October 25, 1986 – Game 6 of the World Series, Red Sox vs. Plates
On May 2, 1986, Americans mourned the loss of Fall Guy. Colt Seavers (sometimes known as Lee Majors), utilizing his dual role as Hollywood stuntman and bounty hunter, shut down a morality-eroding nightclub and sent his corrupt owner to jail for selling PCP to impressionable kids. After making our neighborhoods safer and our Friday nights on ABC a little brighter, Colt said goodbye to us forever.
No more cheesy car stunts, no more GMC 4x4s, and sadly no more Heather Thomas.
The same night we lost Colt, the Boston Red Sox lost 4-1 to the Oakland Athletics, leaving them in third place in the American League East. In that game, first baseman Bill Buckner went 0-4 and stranded three baserunners.
But in May, Buckner was far from Boston’s scapegoat. In fact, thanks to 102 RBIs and 59 extra base hits, Buckner was doing very well with the Bostonians through October. He was a key cog in the wheel that brought the Red Sox from third place in May to one out of beating the Mets in the World Series, ending 68 years of postseason misery and bringing baseball good times back to Beantown.
But in what stands as one of the most famous half-innings in baseball history, the bottom of the 10th of Game 6, after Wally Backman and Keith Hernandez had recorded the first two outs, those gears began to break. Gary Carter singled to left. Kevin Mitchell singled to center field. And when Ray Knight followed that up with a single to center, New York had the tying run just 90 feet away.
Relief pitcher Calvin Schiraldi had been solid for the Sox all season, finishing the year with a 1.41 ERA. And in his only previous World Series appearance, he pitched a scoreless ninth inning to earn the save in Game 1. But he had already pitched the eighth and ninth innings, and perhaps coupled with a little fatigue, the nerves were they were taking over. the 24 year old.
Bob Stanley was the veteran in the bullpen for Boston manager John McNamara. And Stanley was having a great series. He earned the save in Game 2 and pitched three scoreless innings in Games 3 and 4. However, it wasn’t until after Schiraldi was tagged for three straight hits that McNamara made the pitching switch. That was mistake #1.
Stanley, a two-time All-Star in his career and a former starting pitcher with as many as nine complete games in a single season, was given the most important assignment of his life: retiring Mookie Wilson. But with the count 2-2, and the Red Sox just one strike away from the champagne, as they had been with Knight, Stanley buried a wild pitch in the dirt, scored on Mitchell to tie the game, 5-5, and moved to Knight, the winning run, in scoring position.
Very few people talk about that wild pitch. Or the three blows in a row that preceded it. Or McNamara’s decision to stick with Schiraldi for a disastrous third inning after he had already blown the save in the eighth. But everyone knows what happened next.
After fouling out on several more pitches from Stanley, keeping his at-bat alive with a 3-2 count, Wilson hit a soft ground ball down the first-base line that seemed to send Game 6 into the 11th inning. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was through the Buckner legacy and into right field, scoring Knight from second base. Game over. Red Sox choke. Put win.
And after an 8-5 Mets win in Game 7 two nights later (rain delayed it a day), the World Series ribbon parade was scheduled for New York’s “Canyon of Heroes.” Plans for the city of Boston’s October parade would have to wait another eighteen years.
The conviction was swift, complete and direct. Buckner was to blame for the loss. He was an easy grounder, he was a Major League Baseball player, and with everything on the line, an error on such a play was inexcusable. Why didn’t he crouch down with the ball, at least keep it in front of him? Why, Buckner, why?
But I have a question. Why don’t those same people ask why Buckner was in the game in the first place?
In Games 1, 2 and 5, the three games won by Boston, Buckner was benched in the final inning. He was playing on seriously injured legs, having torn much of his ankle muscle. And because they limited his mobility so much, McNamara has used Dave Stapleton as a defensive replacement when the Red Sox had a late lead. So what was different in Game 6? Why was Buckner still inside? Extra innings, up by a couple of races, with chances to close out the season; surely that is the time to tip all possible percentages in his favor.
There are two possibilities as to why McNamara didn’t make the defensive switch he had been making all series. Some people blame sentiment. McNamara liked Buckner. He was a team player nearing the end of his career. And the manager wanted to let Buckner win his first World Series on the field and not on the bench. Possible and plausible, but not how you manage to get to a World Series ring, which McNamara never did.
The second possibility is that McNamara simply forgot. Considering the way he watched Schiraldi get tagged for three straight hits, losing the lead for the second time in three innings, McNamara looked more like a 10th-inning spectator than the actual patron. Also, not how you run a team in the World Series. Or softball beer leagues, for that matter.
Somehow, though, McNamara escaped the hammering of the Boston media. Buckner stayed out of town the following season, released by the Red Sox in July. But McNamara managed to finish an entire season in fifth place in 1987. In 1988, with the Red Sox still stuck in fifth place at the All-Star break, McNamara was finally replaced by third base coach Joe Morgan. (Not to be confused with the Hall of Fame second baseman who scored the winning run in Game 3 of the 1975 World Series against Boston after Cincinnati received a huge assist from umpire Larry Barnett. Read the book The Worst Call Ever for that full info). history.)
Buckner finished his playing career with 2,715 hits. That’s more than Ted Williams, Jim Rice and Carlton Fisk. Yet those three men are Red Sox heroes. Buckner is unabashedly the best goat on the Red Sox.
It’s time the weights of that designation shifted to the man who doomed the frail first baseman: manager John McNamara.