My Memory of Jack Buck

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"Go crazy, folks! Go crazy!"

Jack Buck
Oct. 14, 1985

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When I think of Jack Buck, the legendary St. Louis Cardinals radio announcer who died 10 years ago today, I think of an October day in 1985.

It was a Monday, and the Cardinals were playing my favorite baseball team, the Los Angeles Dodgers, in the National League Championship Series. It was an afternoon game, but that wasn't a problem for me in those days. I was working nights for a metro newspaper, and my regular days off were Monday and Tuesday.

The series was tied, two games to two, and I was looking forward to settling in to watch the game. I was anticipating it all the more because my best friend, Randy, had promised to drive to my apartment after his workday ended and watch the end of the game with me.

Randy was a Cardinals fan — still is, for that matter — and, although I wanted the Dodgers to win, I wanted the score to be close when Randy arrived. If the outcome was already decided when he got there, it would spoil the experience.

It could hardly have worked out any better. The score was 2–2 when he arrived, and the Cardinals were coming to bat in the bottom of the ninth. With one out and no one on base, St. Louis' switch–hitting shortstop Ozzie Smith came to the plate to face Los Angeles' right–handed ace reliever, Tom Niedenfuer.

Mind you, Smith was never a power hitter. He hit a few home runs in his career, but he had never hit a home run when batting on the left side of the plate, and I recall hearing Buck say something about that (whenever I have a choice between the TV and the radio for play by play of a game, I choose the radio) only seconds before Smith connected with Niedenfuer's pitch and drove it over the right–field wall.

I had listened to Buck on the radio many times in my life before that afternoon. Heck, I grew up in Conway, Ark., which was smack dab in the middle of Cardinals territory in those days (it may be different now, with other regional and broadcast options for baseball fans).

When I was a kid, if I wanted to listen to a baseball game on the radio, I could listen to the Cardinals — or no one. And the only televised games in those pre–cable days were NBC's games of the week on Saturday afternoons.

Also, the minor league club that was based in Little Rock — the Travelers — was part of the Cardinals farm organization. The Cardinal influence was all around me.

So I listened to the Cardinals games, and I associated Buck's voice with baseball on the radio on warm summer evenings. No other voice has ever sounded quite right to me for describing the action on a baseball field.

Buck's signature sentence when a Cardinals victory was assured was "That's a winner!" But he sounded emotionally drained after Smith's unexpected blast, and I could imagine him slumping in his seat and urging his listeners to "Go crazy, folks! Go crazy!"

I've heard old–time Dodger fans say that the baseball moment that broke their hearts was in 1951 when the Giants, after overcoming a seemingly insurmountable Dodger advantage in the standings to force a rare playoff, beat the Dodgers to claim a spot in the World Series.

That was before my time. My most painful baseball moment may have been that day in 1985 when Ozzie Smith drilled a walkoff home run to beat the Dodgers. Ultimately, the Cardinals won the league championship and went on to face the Kansas City Royals in the World Series.

But I was happy for Randy. And I was glad that we had shared that experience together. Other than the outcome, it was everything I could have wanted.

In the years ahead, we attended many Dodger–Cardinal games at Busch Stadium. And I always liked knowing that Jack Buck and I had watched the same game in the same place.

It's been many years since I went to a game in St. Louis, but the last one was when Buck was still alive and still calling games for the Cardinals.

Randy and I never took a radio with us when we went to a game so I never had the experience of listening to his play by play of a game I attended.

But I think the knowledge that Buck is no longer in the press box would make it difficult for me to feel the same about being at a game.

Seattle Slew Was Special

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I was very disappointed the other day when I'll Have Another was scratched from the Belmont Stakes, guaranteeing that the drought between Triple Crown winners would go on another year.

But today is a Triple Crown anniversary that may offer the tiniest bit of hope for horse racing enthusiasts that it may end soon.

Seattle Slew capped the 1977 Triple Crown race series 35 years ago today with a four–length win in the Belmont Stakes.

There was no doubt about it. Seattle Slew was a great horse, so great that Blood Horse magazine ranked him ninth in its list of the Top 100 horses of the 20th century — ahead of all but two of the other Triple Crown winners.

Seattle Slew was the first horse to win the Triple Crown while undefeated, and he remains the only horse to accomplish that feat.

But sometimes he seems to get overlooked, perhaps because he came along in a decade that had two other Triple Crown winners — and might well have had more. After all, Canonero II (1971) and Spectacular Bid (1979) both went into the Belmont Stakes with a chance to win a Triple Crown but came up short.

Obviously, Seattle Slew did not come up short in the Belmont.

It would have been wonderful if we could have seen a Triple Crown winner this year. The Triple Crown has always been a rare achievement. The horse that ends the currently 34–year drought since the last one — and make no mistake about it, I do believe it will end someday — may well be appreciated more than most because the wait has been so long.

If I'll Have Another had not been scratched but had lost the Belmont, racing fans probably would have had some wistful thoughts about what might have been, and there would have been a palpable sense of loss — but nothing like what descended upon the world of horse racing on Friday.

At least he would have made the attempt.

And it might have kicked off a wave of nostalgia for those '70s horses — Secretariat, Affirmed and the one that won the Triple Crown 35 years ago today, Seattle Slew.

Back in the Saddle Again?

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Not long ago, I wondered if Maria Sharapova was past her prime at the tender age of 24.

Well, she has observed a birthday since I wrote that — so she is now 25 — and today she won the women's singles title at the French Open for the first time — so she is now one of a handful of pro players to win a career Grand Slam.

I think I may have been a bit hasty in speculating about whether she was over the hill.

Her victory over Sara Errani, who secured a spot in the world's Top 10 rankings with her performance in Paris, showed that concerns about the lingering effects of her shoulder injury were baseless.

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She undoubtedly will go to Wimbledon as one of the favorites.

But her victory in Paris gave her a career Grand Slam — at least one singles title in all four Grand Slam tournaments — and should have erased all doubt.

Errani, also 25, is an up–and–comer. She and Roberta Vinci won the women's doubles title, and she defeated the 2008 and 2009 French Open winners en route to today's match.

Before the match, I heard Errani described as petite. Presumably, that was a reference to her height. At 5–foot–5, she is a few inches shorter than just about everyone she faces, and the height difference is even more pronounced when she stands next to Sharapova, who is nine inches taller.

But Errani is also muscular, and that is something I definitely do not associate with the term petite. I've always thought of petite as being synonymous with dainty — which it is, according to my thesaurus, but it is also listed as synonymous with small.

(I would argue the point to an extent. I have known women who were nearly as tall as Sharapova whom I would characterize as dainty. In fact, before I saw her play, I would have regarded Sharapova herself as dainty. But that is one thing she is not, at least not on the tennis court.)

As I watched Errani futilely, gamely trying to overcome Sharapova, I realized that, barring something completely unexpected, Errani will become a familiar face in tournament finals.

The final score was lopsided. The match was not.

Another Disappointment

Everyone — even the most privileged who walk the earth — must have felt it at some time.

That helpless, vulnerable, rug–pulled–out–from–under–your–feet feeling.

That's how I felt when I heard the news that I'll Have Another, the winner of this year's Kentucky Derby and Preakness Stakes, had been scratched from today's Belmont Stakes.

This is the longest drought between Triple Crown winners in thoroughbred racing history. Those of us who enjoy watching horse racing have grown wary of Triple Crowns. Almost no one ever speaks about the possibility after the Kentucky Derby, preferring to wait and see if its winner is more than a flash in the pan — and there have been nearly two dozen of those since 1978.

But there have also been a dozen horses — including I'll Have Another — that won the first two races and came to the Belmont in search of that elusive Triple Crown. The others came up short, either spectacularly so or, more rarely, by narrow margins.

There is a reason why the Belmont is called the test of champions. The first two races are shorter. They were designed with speed horses in mind. But the Belmont is longer. It favors endurance.

It is a rare horse — a Secretariat — that combines both speed and endurance.

I've enjoyed watching the horses run since I was a child. Nearly 40 years ago, I saw my first Triple Crown winner (on TV, not in person), then two more came along in what was (and still is) rapid–fire succession for thoroughbred racing.

And we have had no more since.

We've had plenty of near misses since Affirmed won the 1978 Triple Crown.

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Perhaps the most colon–tighteningly, tantalizingly, exasperatingly close near miss of them all was the 2004 Belmont Stakes, in which Birdstone overtook Smarty Jones and denied him the Triple Crown by a single length. Smarty Jones seemed to possess both speed and endurance. It was a real disappointment when he failed.

Most of the time, it is a speed horse that comes to the Belmont and loses — big. And that, in itself, answers the question that follows the exceptional horses that win the first two to the third jewel of the Triple Crown: Is this horse more than a speed horse?

Since 1978, all the two–time winners have had their opportunity to answer that question on the track.

But it will never be answered in the case of I'll Have Another. Instead of making a bid for horse racing immortality this afternoon, he was retired.

There was never going to be a shortage of important sports events today. Earlier, Maria Sharapova won the women's final at the French Open. She is now one of a handful of tennis players who won a career Grand Slam — at least one singles title in each of the four Grand Slam events.

Tonight, the Los Angeles Kings will try to win their first–ever Stanley Cup. And the Miami Heat and the Boston Celtics will play for the right to face Oklahoma City in the NBA finals.

But all that would have been overshadowed by far if I'll Have Another had won the Belmont.

Somebody wins the NBA championship, the Stanley Cup and the women's final of the French Open every year.

But it's been 34 years since a horse won the Triple Crown.

More Than Ready for Another

Tim Layden of Sports Illustrated laments the fact that "[a] generation of American adults is approaching middle age without having seen a horse win the Triple Crown."

And, as a horse racing fan, I, too, find that lamentable. But I am still enough of an optimist to believe — unlike many who follow the sport more closely than I — that it still can be done.

In my life, I have known some people who were quite knowledgeable about horse racing, and I have often heard them say that, because the first two races are much shorter than the third, to win a Triple Crown, a horse must possess both speed and endurance.

Such horses have been referred to as "super horses" at least since the time of the great Secretariat — who really was a super horse.

The distances of the Triple Crown races have varied over the years, but the distances have not changed since 1926, and all but one of the 11 Triple Crown winners have accomplished the feat since that time.

So, while it may be that it will take a "super horse" to break the drought between Triple Crown winners (which is currently 34 years), super horses weren't some sort of phenomenon that burst on to the scene, dominated the sport for a period and then disappeared.

Generations of horses have come and gone since Gallant Fox won all three races in 1930 (when it wasn't officially called the Triple Crown).

Affirmed, in 1978, was the last horse to win the Triple Crown, and I'll Have Another will be the 12th horse since that time to enter the Belmont Stakes with victories in both the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness.

The other 11 came up short, but Layden offers hope that, this time, things will be different.

I'll Have Another, Layden reports, "is so formidable because he has a useful combination of natural speed ... and stubborn cardiovascular endurance."

If that is true, the Triple Crown may well be within his grasp.

Meanwhile, I'll Have Another's preparations for his date with destiny appear to be coming along nicely. The Associated Press reports that, after two days of jogging on the Belmont Park oval, he is set to resume galloping tomorrow.

His assistant trainer was enthusiastic. "[H]e gets over the track fantastic," Jack Sisterson said, "he looked super, his energy level is high and he's doing everything we want to see him doing."

Sounds promising.

On the Brink of a Triple Crown

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About midway through the week, I began searching for articles about today's Preakness Stakes in Baltimore.

I wanted to find out if veteran handicappers thought Kentucky Derby winner I'll Have Another had a chance of winning today's race — and, consequently, continuing to contend for the Triple Crown.

I found few articles that spoke of him the way articles in the past have lauded the Kentucky Derby winner.

That's understandable. The last time the Kentucky Derby winner went on to win the Preakness was in 2008. In fact, only 10 times since Affirmed won the 1978 Triple Crown had the Kentucky Derby winner gone on to win the Preakness. That is less than one–third of the time.

With that kind of history, horse racing writers had every reason to be hesitant to build up I'll Have Another until today's race was in the books.

Well, it is in the books now, and my guess is that we'll be hearing a lot about I'll Have Another in the next three weeks.

Because he did win today's Preakness — and it was perhaps the most exciting Preakness I have ever seen.

Once again, Bodemeister, the horse that led the Kentucky Derby most of the way, was the leader in the Preakness — again, most of the way.

And, once again, I'll Have Another overtook him at the end — and won the Preakness by a head. Literally.

Last year, three different horses won the Triple Crown races. And, at the time, I wrote that it was not so much a sign of a mediocre thoroughbred field as it was an indication that horse racing was enjoying a period of parity in which every race was competitive.

Those were exciting races, to be sure.

But anyone who is a fan of horse racing is likely to appreciate the fact that, for only the 11th time in the last 34 years, we can anticipate the possibility of a Triple Crown winner when the Belmont is run three weeks from today.

Even casual fans will know — if they don't already — that this year's Belmont will be something rare and extraordinary. It will be an event — and not, as it has been for the last three years, the anticlimactic conclusion to the Triple Crown season.

As I have mentioned here before, I teach journalism and writing to students in the Dallas County community college system, and nearly all the students with whom I have worked in the last couple of years were born at least a decade after the last Triple Crown winner.

If I'll Have Another does win the Belmont — and, with it, the Triple Crown — it will be the kind of thing that comes along once in a generation — if that.

I know many people who were born in 1979 or after — and, as a consequence, have not seen a Triple Crown winner. Some of them have died — and some may die before the Belmont is run — and will, as a consequence, never see a Triple Crown winner.

There is, of course, that one last hurdle for I'll Have Another, and it has wrecked many potential Triple Crown winners. At 1½ miles, it is the longest of the three, a quarter of a mile longer than the Kentucky Derby and more than one–third of a mile longer than the race that was run today.

After two races that emphasized speed, the Belmont prizes endurance. That is why it is known as the "Test of Champions." And it is quite a test.

We will find out if I'll Have Another is a super horse, one that is fast but can also handle long distances. Most horses are either one or the other. Triple Crown winners tend to be exceptions to the rule.

It should make for an entertaining afternoon three weeks from today.

Will the Cycle Be Broken?

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Affirmed was the last horse to win thoroughbred racing's Triple Crown in 1978.

Thirty–three Triple Crown opportunities have come and gone since then, but no horse has won all three races. It's the longest drought since Sir Barton won the first Triple Crown in 1919, and many people think it is the kind of thing that cannot be done again.

Most decades have had no Triple Crown winners at all. Three — the 1930s, 1940s and 1970s — produced multiple winners, and their names read like the roster of a horse racing's Who's Who or the Top 10 of Blood–Horse magazine's 100 greatest thoroughbreds of the 20th century.

Anyway, history — not to mention common sense — suggests that, if no horse wins a Triple Crown by the middle of a decade, that decade isn't likely to have a Triple Crown winner.

This decade is still relatively young. We can go a couple more years without a Triple Crown winner before — historically speaking — it will be seen as too late.

But we've already waited more than 30 years. Horse racing fans are understandably anxious.

Admittedly, it's a little premature to be asking this question, but what are the chances we'll be anticipating a Triple Crown winner in three weeks when the horses are about to run in the Belmont, the third and last jewel?

For that to happen, I'll Have Another must win in Baltimore.

David Ginsburg of the Associated Press seems to think the chances are pretty good that Kentucky Derby winner I'll Have Another will prevail — even though he is the Morning Line's second choice behind Bodemeister, the horse he overcame to win the Run for the Roses.

Chris Korman of the Baltimore Sun writes that I'll Have Another has been running well in his pre–Preakness training sessions.

Bodemeister does have his supporters, though, like Andrew Beyer of the Washington Post.

Beyer writes that "[w]hen serious bettors evaluate what has happened in a race, they don't necessarily focus on who won and who lost. They understand that outcomes are determined not only by horses' talent but by race dynamics — pace, traffic trouble, ground loss, all the things that constitute a horse's 'trip.' They try to consider all of these factors in order to judge after the fact who ran best because that conclusion may be the key to betting a future race."

Bodemeister had the "toughest trip" of any of the horses in the Kentucky Derby, Beyer writes, because he was forced to run a faster pace from the start than he would have preferred. Yet he still almost won at Churchill Downs.

"Run the Kentucky Derby 100 times in an alternate universe and he'll capture a plurality of them."

At Pimlico on Saturday, Beyer writes, "there is only one reason to question Bodemeister, and it has nothing to do with his talent. The colt has crammed his whole five–race career into the span of four months, and the exertions may have taken a toll on him."

Jay Privman of the Daily Racing Form writes that winning the Derby exposed the many layers of Doug O'Neill, the trainer of I'll Have Another.

"His has been a complicated, multi–dimensional career, alternately praised for winning major races and multiple titles, yet questioned by racing authorities for violations O'Neill disputes," Privman writes.

I suspect the controversies will only intensify if O'Neill's horse wins on Saturday.

The Remarkable Riva Ridge

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Next year will be the 40th anniversary of the great Secretariat's Triple Crown run of 1973.

I expect that all of horse racing will pay homage to that extraordinary champion — and rightfully so.

But today is the 40th anniversary of the emergence of the last super horse before Secretariat came along — his stablemate, Riva Ridge.

There were other links between Secretariat and Riva Ridge. Both were owned and trained by the same stable. Both were ridden by the same jockey. They even faced off in a match race sponsored by the Philip Morris company.

In the 25 years between Citation's Triple Crown in 1948 and Secretariat's in 1973, 15 horses won two of the three races.

By far the most common of the victorious two–race combinations was the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness Stakes (the first two races), and the reason for that is simple. The Derby and the Preakness, although separated by only two weeks, are shorter races that tend to favor speed horses; the much longer Belmont Stakes, which is held three weeks after the Preakness, favors endurance over speed.

Over the years, many a speedster has jumped to a fast lead at the Belmont only to fade and burn out long before reaching the finish line. It is indeed a rare horse that possesses both speed and endurance.

But Riva Ridge, like Secretariat, seems to have been that rare horse. And he might have won the Triple Crown except for what turned out to be his Achilles' heel. He couldn't run well on a sloppy track, and rain at Pimlico prior to the Preakness made the track too sloppy for him.

That cleared the way for Bee Bee Bee, a 19–to–1 shot, to win.

Bee Bee Bee wasn't in the fields for the Kentucky Derby or the Belmont Stakes, and I still hear people arguing that, if he had, he might have been the Triple Crown winner.

That is one of those what–if questions, though. The fact remains that Riva Ridge won two of the Triple Crown races in 1972, and he won the first of those races 40 years ago today.

A moment in thoroughbred racing that is worth remembering today.

Deja Vu All Over Again?

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I had kind of a strange sensation when I watched I'll Have Another win the Kentucky Derby yesterday.

It was something of a flashback to the late spring/early summer of 1973, when Secretariat won the Triple Crown.

Secretariat is probably best remembered for his dominant performance in the third jewel of the Triple Crown, the Belmont Stakes, in which he practically strolled to a 31–length victory.

But most of the folks who were old enough at the time to absorb what it was that they were seeing — and to appreciate that they were witnessing something rare and remarkable, the first Triple Crown winner in a quarter of a century — will tell you that Secretariat came from behind to win the first two races.

That was his M.O. — until that memorable afternoon in June.

While it is entirely possible that I am overlooking something obvious, I don't think I have seen anything quite like it since — at least until yesterday's Derby.

Thirty–nine years ago, it seems to me that Secretariat had to come from dead last — or close to it — to barely win the first two races of the Triple Crown. Clearly, he was a speed horse, like all the other sons of Bold Ruler, but there were doubts that he had the endurance for a truly long race like the Belmont.

Such doubts were erased in the Belmont — and, as impressive as that victory was, there were lingering questions that went unanswered until 16 years later when, after Secretariat's death, a team of veterinarians examined his vital organs and discovered that his heart was twice the size of a normal horse's.

It's still early in this year's Triple Crown campaign. The Preakness is coming up on May 19, followed by the Belmont on June 9, and no horse has won a Triple Crown in nearly 35 years — so I'll Have Another's win yesterday may have no significance in the long run.

But his Derby run reminded me of those Secretariat days.

I honestly don't know anything about I'll Have Another's lineage. Maybe, like Secretariat, he is a descendant of not only a speed horse like Bold Ruler but also a power horse like the 18th–century British horse Eclipse (who was said to have passed along an x factor trait through his daughters that produced such oversized hearts).

Maybe not. I suppose we'll know more in a couple of weeks — or five weeks, if I'll Have Another wins the Preakness.

And he didn't have to come from the back of the pack yesterday — just the middle of it.

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But I'll be damned if there aren't real similarities between yesterday's race and the one that started Secretariat on his Triple Crown–winning run 39 years ago.

In 1973, Secretariat overtook his primary nemesis, Sham. Will Bodemeister — one of yesterday's pre–race favorites and the leader until he was overtaken in the stretch — turn out to be I'll Have Another's arch rival in 2012?

Time will tell.

The Disturbing Death of Junior Seau

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When I became a sports copy editor, I thought it was the best job I could possibly have in journalism.

I had worked as a general assignment reporter prior to that time, and I covered many depressing stories. I figured sports was all fun and games, and I welcomed it. Red Smith wrote that people go to sports events to have fun, and then they pick up the newspaper the next day to read about it and have fun all over again. That was pretty much how I viewed it.

Sure, I knew it wasn't fun for the teams that lost big games, and it wasn't fun for their fans.

But it wasn't the end of the world, either. It wasn't life and death. The sun (as Annie observed in the musical that was named for her) will come up tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar.

I quickly learned, though, that sports isn't all fun and games all the time. It is deadly serious business for some folks. It is a huge, often insatiably ravenous beast, and there are those who become consumed by it.

Wait 'til next year. That has long been the defiant rallying cry of the runners–up. Except for those who were retiring, there would be another opportunity.

And when athletes finally hang it up, there frequently seems to be a second career for them. It is true that some athletes retire to live out their lives in relative obscurity, but others become coaches or commentators. Some become successful businessmen. A few go into politics.

Usually, as I say, there is that encore for the ex–athlete that can partially provide whatever he has lost because of his retirement.

I guess what is needed varies from one individual to another. Some need that adoration of the crowd. Others need the money. For some, it is the camaraderie of their teammates.

And most athletes find some kind of substitute in their post–playing career lives. Most of the time, that substitute probably doesn't come close to making up for what has been lost. Professional sports is a big stage with a bright spotlight and a huge, adoring fan base.

For an athlete like Junior Seau, who played in at least part of 20 pro football seasons and was named All–Pro a dozen times, the financial rewards of an athletic career are like winning the lottery every day, the cheers are loud and unending, and the closeness one feels with one's teammates probably can't be matched in any other occupation, perhaps not even military service.

I gather, from what I have read, that he missed it all. Maybe it had been a part of his life for too long. Maybe he did not know how to function without it.

After all, one does not become a professional athlete without spending many years on the other levels — college, high school, even junior high and middle school.

I don't know how many years Seau played football, but he was only 43 when he apparently shot himself in the chest yesterday. His professional playing career and his college career would have accounted for more than half his life by themselves — and it is reasonable to assume, I think, that Seau must have played the game for at least half a dozen years before that.

He may well have played football for three–quarters of his life.

From what I have been hearing in the last 24 hours, Seau struggled to find his niche in life after football. Apparently, he never found it. In the absence of any other explanations — like issues with drugs or alcohol or overwhelming debts — one must conclude that there was nothing that could meet his needs the way football did.

He may also have suffered from the kind of brain injuries that we hear mentioned so often in connection with football players.

And brain injuries are deceptive because there is still so much about the brain that people do not understand. Outward appearances are often unaffected by brain injuries, and, to a casual observer, Seau looked the same as always — a little older each time we saw him, but that happens to everyone.

My grandmother had a series of what were called at that time mini strokes. She didn't look any different to me, but she often spoke about these things that were in her head.

Perhaps Junior Seau had a similar sensation. He played linebacker, and linebackers are subjected to all kinds of violent hits on the field. It is reasonable to wonder if he, like so many other former athletes, suffered from chronic repetitive brain injury.

In most, if not all, of the 50 states, a suicide is also considered something of a homicide so, by law, an autopsy must be performed on the victim, and an autopsy on Seau can go a long way toward answering the unanswered questions.

Because he shot himself in the chest, Seau's brain can be examined, and perhaps some things can be learned from this tragic chapter in American sports history.

Perhaps something good can come from something so unspeakably bad.