Saying goodbye to a friend
The Jack Buck Memorial Service was everything I thought it would be

(Writer’s Note: I realize that there have been numerous articles dedicated to former broadcaster Jack Buck, but I felt compelled to write this piece after attending a moving memorial service. This piece is written largely in first person and originally appeared in the June 21, 2002 edition of NationalPastimes.net’s The Daily.)

On a bright, sun-shiny 90+-degree day in downtown St. Louis — and America — said goodbye to a friend.

That friend being one John Francis Buck.

I headed to downtown St. Louis shortly after 9 p.m Central Daylight Time. Going through my mind were a number of things: how will I react once I step foot on that field; how will I deal with being right in front of Mr. Buck’s casket behind home plate; what will I say to him; and, how in the world am I going to keep cool!

I finally reached the Busch Stadium shortly before 10, parking in my usual spot some three blocks away from the park. Taking in downtown St. Louis this fine morning was simply moving. All the people milling around, heads hanging low and silent, as if they lost a family friend, a long lost uncle, or a brother.

Indeed, the atmosphere was somber as I passed the statue and the makeshift homage to the legend. People snapping pictures, laying roses, cards and notes in remembrance.

I walked into the ballpark through the Spruce Street wagon gate not knowing what to expect. The line formed all the way to the street from behind home plate, full of people paying their respects to the “Voice of St. Louis”. It took some ten minutes to reach the playing surface, aka the ‘warning track’, where we were shepherded around the field.

Moving along the gravel and sand exterior, I began to collect my thoughts, thinking about what I was going to say, listening to people behind me chatting about their favorite Jack Buck memories.

At 10:12 a.m., on this steamy Thursday, I arrived at home plate, looking upon the beautiful wooden casket that held Mr. Buck. I gingerly stepped forward, much like I did when I first met him nearly four years ago.

The moment clearly moved me, a moment that seemed like an eternity. Standing next to the casket was the symbol of Anheuser-Busch, a saddle-less Clydesdale representing the fallen soldier (Buck was a World War II vet and a Purple Heart recipient after being wounded at the Remagen Bridge), standing at attention, along with several members of the fire and police departments.

I bowed my head, and uttered these words I will never forget, paraphrasing an old Irish toast and his memorable broadcast wrap-up line: “May the road rise up to me you, Mr. Buck . . . so long for just awhile.” With that, I turned and headed along the warning track towards the field’s exit, my eyes welling up with tears.

And all of this took place in under minute.

After walking towards a position behind home plate, I stood for over an hour, thinking of the times I listened to Mr. Buck on the radio and watching him on television. I went over the many of the memorable calls in my head: the Kirk Gibson homerun, the Ozzie Smith homerun, Tommy Herr’s grand slam in 1987 off Jesse Orosco of the New York Mets (seat cushion night!) and his last call on the national baseball stage, his call of Kirby Puckett’s homerun in the 1991 World Series, Game 6: “And we’ll see you tomorrow night!!!”

After the hour or so was up, I went to my seat where I would watch the memorial.

And I just stared at that casket and that stage, baking in the mid-afternoon sun.

12:35 pm finally arrives and so does the Buck family.

Joe Buck emceed the ceremonies, showing remarkable strength in handling those chores. He even managed a joke after the family priest spoke to gathering (I’m paraphrasing): “I just got a call before coming out here from the Montreal Expos. They wanted me to inform you all that they would like to fly all of you for tonight’s contest against the Kansas City Royals.”

With that, everyone felt comfortable. And Joe is a chip off the old block.

Friends spoke lovingly of Mr. Buck: twenty-time All-Star and Hall of Famer Stan “The Man” Musial, (who was quickly ushered off due to the heat); Mike Matheny (representing the Cardinals); long-time broadcast partner (30 years) Mike Shannon; Cardinal manager Tony LaRussa; former Cardinal OF and Hall of Famer Lou Brock; long-time football Cardinal and ‘Monday Night Football’ analyst Dan Dierdorf; and long-time friend and former Executive Vice-President of Anheuser-Busch, Michael Roarty.

Following a moving musical salute to one of Mr. Buck’s favorite songs, Joe Buck made some closing comments, thanking all of the fans for “allowing us to share our father with all of you.” The dais then turned their eyes toward the sky to a twenty-one-gun salute performed by the Missouri National Guard.

With that, the memorial came to a stirring and emotional conclusion. The Buck family shook some people hands and walked off the field, leaving their father’s casket and a silent crowd.

Shortly thereafter, the stage was dismantled in time for the afternoon game against the Anaheim Angels.

As the casket was loaded inside the hearse and taken away, a number of people started to applaud, knowing that one John Francis “Jack” Buck’s body was leaving Busch Stadium for the last time. With tears in my eyes (for the umpteenth time), I saluted and continued to applaud, saying to myself, “So long for just awhile.”