John Jordan "Buck" O'Neil
died tonight.
I have one memory of Buck, and he made it count. He called me "friend."
I didn't do anything to earn the title, aside from talking to him for about 10 minutes. After calling his home for a week trying to interview him for
a story about the final Hall of Fame vote he'd see, he finally answered. He had just gotten back from New York, and was just about set to go to another appointment, but he said he could make a little time.
It was enough time for the questions I needed to ask (though there were plenty more I merely wanted to ask), and he gave me splended answers, punctuating sentences with "you sees" and "mm-hmms." Before I knew it, Buck had to move on to another appearance -- as one of only two living members on the 39-man ballot, he had a lot of representing to do.
He departed with, "Well, friend, I'm sorry, but I have to get going."
Now I'm not sure if Buck would've remembered my name a week from that point, but either way, he chose to call me "friend."
That's what was special about Buck -- everybody was his friend by default. From what I experienced and everything I've heard about the man, somebody would have to do a lot to work his or her way off the list. I don't think there are a lot of people in the world like that, especially those who have so many people seeking them out.
I'd gotten his number from a representative at the Hall of Fame. I found out I didn't need it when I looked him up in the phonebook and saw he was listed, phone and address. Of course his number was listed. Buck wouldn't turn down anybody, and nobody would hurt Buck. Of course, he had millions of friends who would have his back for any reason.
They came to his defense when they found out he wouldn't enter the Hall of Fame. I'd talked to a few of the people who headed the voting committee, learned about the process, asked specifically about Buck, ran through hypotheticals, and before the vote, I thought he'd get in.
He missed by one vote, and nobody really understood why. It even shook up the unflappable Buck a little. But
he rebounded, buoyed by all the support he received, and he said he couldn't have been happier to speak at the institution that didn't let him in at this year's induction ceremony.
Buck, speaking to the thousands gathered in Cooperstown and millions watching on TV,
ended his speech like he was talking to somebody on the phone:
Thank
you. Now, sit down. I could talk to you 10 minutes longer but I got
to go to the bathroom.
That's all I can personally say about Buck O'Neil. There's 94 years of a life well lived to remember, but I'll save the comprehensive memorials for everybody who got to know him for much longer than 10 minutes.