Lucky Bastard by Joe Buck

Author:Joe Buck
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2017-02-17T15:34:48+00:00

Part 4

Good-bye, Dad

Chapter 10

The Last Fight

Ann and I were down in the Florida Keys when we missed the call from my dad. I called him back and heard the voice of a younger Jack Buck. I had not heard his voice that strong in ten years.

He said, “Well, Buck, I went to the doctor today, and I want to let you know that I got diagnosed with lung cancer. It’s contained in the bottom part of my lung, in one of the lobes of my lung. We’re going to fight it. Everything will be well.”

My dad, who cried so easily that we used to tease him about it, wasn’t weepy about having cancer. He said, “We’re going to be fine. I’m going to battle it and we’ll get it taken out and we’ll move on. Enjoy your vacation.”

I hung up the phone.

Ann said, “What was that about?”

I said, “Well, my dad just told me he’s got lung cancer.”

He was seventy-seven, and he’d been struggling with Parkinson’s disease and diabetes. When he called a game, he used every ounce of energy he had that day. But it kept him young. The clubhouse speakers would play Nelly, Run-D.M.C., Eminem—all these different rappers that he tolerated through the years. He loved being around the players. He loved introducing himself to new players on both teams.

And when he was out, nothing slowed him down. He wanted to sign every autograph and do every interview. His hand would shake, but he wasn’t self-conscious. He told me that when you have Parkinson’s, at some point you have to decide, “Screw it, I’m going to do what I do. Let them worry about the shaking.” He would joke about it, too. It all disguised the reality, which is that he was nearing the end of his life.

In the Keys, I thought about his words to me when I was fifteen: When I die, you’ll be ready for it. You’ll handle it. I hoped he was right. I would do my best. But I would also have to deal with all the people who thought he was family—and a few who thought he wasn’t family enough.

—

Shortly after the diagnosis, I was in a waiting room at Barnes-Jewish Hospital with most of my half brothers and half sisters. A doctor came out and said an issue had come up during surgery.

“We’re going back in,” he said.

My mom was crying. I was nervous. And that’s when I heard my half siblings muttering, loud enough for my mom to hear it: “I knew this was wrong.” . . . “We shouldn’t have done it this way.” . . . “This is the wrong doctor. . . .”

I stood up, and for the first time, thirty-two years of tension bubbled over. I was so mad they were questioning my mom.

“How dare you?” I said. “How dare you after all these years?! You missed birthdays! You missed everything! And you sit here and armchair-quarterback the only person who has always done everything she can to protect our father!”

It got heated.

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