Buckner Got My Vote

"You blew the Series!" they decided. They threatened Buckner, cursed him, tormented him. It got so bad that he moved permanently to a ranch in Idaho.

He hunted. He fished. He bought pieces of a few car dealerships. He tried to go on with his life.

But the world wouldn't have it. It wanted to ask about how that One Ground Ball turned his legs into wickets and extended the Curse.

This is a guy who hit .289 lifetime. This is a guy who played 22 seasons. This is a guy who set the alltime record for most assists by a first baseman (184), in 1985.

"We would've got nowhere near the World Series without Billy," says his old teammate Oil Can Boyd. "He's had 18 years of hell for nothin'."

And lest ye forget: Buckner's Boot wouldn't exist had Red Sox manager John McNamara made his usual late-inning defensive switch, replacing Buckner with the more nimble Dave Stapleton. And Buckner's Boot didn't come until after Sox reliever Calvin Schiraldi had given up three straight singles and McNamara had brought in Bob Stanley to try to get that last out.

Buckner's Boot didn't blow the three-run lead that the Sox had in Game 7, either.

But you'd never know it. Buckner's name went on the list with Typhoid Mary and Mrs. O'Leary's Cow.

Score it e-life. It's the single most unfair thing to happen to an athlete since Vinko Bogataj's fall during a ski jump became "the agony of defeat" for Wide World of Sports.

"I got the raw end of the deal, and I'll always get the raw end of the deal," Buckner says.