Thanks Bobby

When Bobby Murcer died over the weekend I felt an overwhelming sadness for those who considered him their hero. I admired Bobby greatly, both for his playing skills and for the way he bravely battled cancer. However I can’t say he was my childhood hero. Unfortunately my childhood hero, Tom Seaver, has a lousy rep amongst the fans and it’s only by staying away from him that can I keep my cherished image from being tarnished.

Better writers than I are offering heartfelt tributes to Bobby and anything I say will only rehash what is already being said with great eloquence. However I do want to share my favorite memory of him, one that occurred on August 6, 1979, the day the Yankees buried their captain Thurman Munson.

Everyone knows what Bobby accomplished that day. I vividly recall watching the game and being so caught up in the frenzy surrounding Munson’s death. I was obsessed with it and I remember clipping newspaper articles and scanning the news incessantly for coverage. It was the first time in my little sphere such an awful tragedy occurred and while I was not so much upset by it (I was nine) I was drawn to the event like a moth to a flame.

This all came to a crescendo when the Yankees took the field the night of August 6. The funeral took place earlier that day and heartrending eulogies were offered by Bobby and Lou Piniella, among others. Upon hearing they would postpone that night’s game Munson’s widow Diana told them Thurman would not have any of it and demanded they take the field.

Physically and emotionally drained, the Yankees flew back to New York for their game against the Baltimore Orioles. What happened that night was nothing short of mythical. You couldn’t write a better screenplay for what happened. In fact, if you did, cynics would argue that it was a typical schmaltzy Hollywood style ending.

But it did happen and for my money, it is a moment that rivals Lou Gehrig’s farewell speech in its poignancy. It may even exceed it because that night Bobby Murcer single handedly won the game for his friend, bolstering his team and bolstering an entire city steeped in mourning. Exhausted and emotionally drained, Bobby Murcer reached inside himself and somehow achieved something I consider superhuman.

Down 4-0 he brought the Yankees within striking distance with a three-run homer in the seventh inning that, on its own, would probably be remembered and rehashed endlessly. If he hit the home run and the Yanks lost it still would survive as an indelible moment. However Bobby still had something left in him.

He came to bat in the ninth inning with two men on and on a 0-2 count he sliced the ball to the opposite field driving in both the tying and winning run. Unfortunately iconic ABC broadcaster Howard Cossell didn’t let the moment speak for itself and blathered on, endlessly stating the obvious (whereas Vin Scully would’ve let us soak it all in and write our own script). Even Howard, pompous windbag that he was, doesn’t ruin the moment and it’s wonderful to see Bobby’s teammates envelop him, allowing themselves to release the emotions of the last week in a moment of jubilation.

It’s sad that so few regular season games survive from that era and of all the games to be preserved I am so pleased this one endures. For me it’s like the real-life version of “The Natural” (with goose bump inducing music replaced by Howard’s mouth). Bobby Murcer achieved mythic status that night for me and an enduring admiration for who he was as a person. Through strength of will as much as the considerable baseball skills he possessed, did he allow the events of August 6, 1979 to take place, giving me my greatest baseball memory. Thanks Bobby.