THE WALK OF LIFE

You weren't here that long

near the end of a career

that wasn't quite Hall of Fame.

We knew you through the box scores

and the car radio.
 

And I remember as that fateful season neared its end

almost hearing tears in the announcer's voice

as he tried to describe the sight of you

careering around second on your two

terribly damaged legs

stretching a double into a triple.

"Gallant" was the word he used

and gallant is how I remember you.
 

But we live in a time

when Nike erects a billboard

in sight of the Olympic athletes:

"You Don't Win Silver,

You Lose Gold,"

and so it is that some remember only

the nightmare tenth inning of Game Six

the big bouncing grounder

that found its way

between those gallant legs, condemning you

to the underworld of those who made it to

within a whisker of the top,

who beat all the competition

except one.

The inmost circle of that underworld's reserved

for the Fred Merkles, and Roy Reigelses

Denny Galehouses, and Mike Dukakises

for those second-place finishers

destined to be remembered particularly

for their hammartia

that one error in judgment

the base untouched

the photo-op in the tank

Oh, Billy Buck,

why did it have to happen to you?

I once saw a music video

that began with a long string of clips

of athletes looking foolish-

stone-fingered tight end

juggles ball five times

before linebacker demolishes him

and ball drops harmless out of bounds;

runner trips over second base as though

surprised that it was there;

tall Caucasian butchers slam dunk,

comes away bleeding.

Then suddenly it changes-

wide receiver soars in the end zone

gets one hand on the ball

but it sticks

and he cradles it to his belly

surrendering his body to the furious crash

of the cornerback he just burned

in a moment of such violent airborne beauty

such conspicuous gallantry

that you thank God videotape exists

and you pray that long after we've destroyed ourselves

aliens will land and find this tape

and wonder at the mad grace

of such a race.

And the soundtrack sings

"You do the walk,

you do the walk of li-hi-hife..."

I was surrounded by children

when I saw that video

my daughters and their cousins

and like someone suddenly filled with the spirit

I stood up and began to preach

the brilliance of what they were watching:

that if you want to achieve

anything spectacular in life

you have to risk humiliation

and this one time they all listened to me

fascinated like...

pigeons in Assisi.

And I can still see you

standing stiff and tall,

the ball bouncing toward you big and slow

and I know you're thinking,

"Thank God, at least we're out of the inning,"

but then it's a little too slow

and the batter is tearassing down the line toward you

faster than anyone named Mookie has a right to move

so you reach deep into

the gallant center of your soul

and you will the ball to get there

a little quicker

because now it has to

and there is one tired instant in there

when you believe that you can do this,

that you can will the ball there-

it's believing in yourself too much...

[long sigh]


I guess what bothers me most is our dishonesty.

We know this happens to a thousand people

one way or another every hour of every day.

But we can't live with that knowledge.

So we joke, we say,

"Like Bill Buckner, ho ho ho"

fostering the pretense we're too good

for this too happen to us

when what is spectacularly obvious

is we're not even close to being good enough

ever to be exposed to anything this bad

our errors go unnoticed

because we go unnoticed

and we like it that way....

If we were honest, your name would be spoken

only after the lights were out

and then only between two persons

who had achieved the deepest intimacy

who knew that they could turn to one another

in the darkness

when the fear was on them

one of them might gently brush

the shoulder of the other

and the other one might

swim up from the depths of sleep and whisper

"What is it, my darling?"

and the one might sigh,

"Bill Buckner,"

and the other might

caress the one and whisper

"Shhh. It's all right.

Sleep will come,

when you're not looking.

Morning will come, and breakfast,

and things that should be easy

will be easy once more.

It's the Walk of Life.

You've walked it before

and you will walk it again.

Shhh now beloved."