In honor of Buck O’Neil's 100th birthday on Sunday, the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum had a group of writers submit reflections on Buck to display in the museum's archives for future visitors to read and enjoy. I was honored when my friend Justice B. Hill asked me last month to participate in the project. This is my submission. This post first appeared on my blog at NeedISayMoore.com.
The last time I saw Buck O'Neil was in Minnesota. My friend Ryan and I were visiting our buddy Thor, and we decided to go to a Twins game. Unbeknownst to us, Buck was there that day to throw out the first pitch.
Buck stood on the mound and began to wind up, then as he was about to throw the ball, he held on and ran a few steps closer to home plate. He wound up again, held on again and ran a few steps closer. He continued to do so until, finally, he got to the catcher and handed him the ball. Ryan and I stood in the upper deck, probably 500 feet from Buck, and we cheered wildly. Buck was our guy, a Kansas City guy. We felt as if we knew him personally.
Buck O'Neil had that effect on people. Anyone who crossed paths with Buck has a Buck story. He took the time to talk to everyone, to smile, to share one (or many) of his great stories.
I was introduced to Buck in middle school. My favorite teacher, Mrs. Winkler, taught a lesson on heroes. Middle school is a weird time. We were trying to figure out the world, figure out ourselves, figure out why our bodies were changing, and the only thing that really mattered was that our peers thought we were "cool."
Mrs. Winkler had a way of making her students dream — to dream like they dreamed when they were little kids. And she wanted us to have heroes — heroes who would inspire us to dream.
Mrs. Winkler's hero was Buck O'Neil. I'm not sure why she loved Buck so much. Well, I take that back. Buck was a lovable man. Baseball was what he was known for, but what made him famous — what made him a hero — was his spirit, his passion and his constant pursuit of giving back.
As long as the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum is still around, Buck will never be forgotten in Kansas City. The museum was Buck's creation, a reminder of how much loved baseball, the Negro Leagues and this town. The museum was him giving back to others. The stories that fill that museum are the stories Buck loved to tell, and he wanted to make sure those stories lived on forever.
Mrs. Winkler wrote to Buck that year and asked if he would talk to our class about heroes. Buck did what he always did: He accepted her invitation. He spent an afternoon at my school telling us about the Negro Leagues, signing autographs and giving hugs. As Joe Posnanski wrote in his book, The Soul of Baseball: A Road Trip Through Buck O'Neil's America, Buck loved to give hugs, especially to women. I'm sure it was one of his hugs that made Mrs. Winkler a fan for life.
Those two occasions were the only times I saw Buck in person. Yet when Buck died, I felt as if I knew him personally. I remember reading Buck's obituary in The Kansas City Star. I cried, along with many of my fellow Kansas Citians.
Buck was our guy. Buck was our hero.
