Joe Buck, "Lucky Bastard" and the Perfect Start to the SABR Long Island Ralph Kiner Chapter Book Club

Joe Buck,the legendary broadcaster joined the chapter for an unforgettable conversation about his father, insecurity, criticism, hair plugs, Brockmire—and what really matters when the red light comes on.

There are probably easier ways to launch a book club than beginning with one of the most recognizable voices in the history of American sports.

But then again, the SABR Long Island Ralph Kiner Chapter was never planning to ease into anything.

Our inaugural SABR Long Island Ralph Kiner Chapter Book Club meeting featured legendary broadcaster Joe Buck, whose memoir, "Lucky Bastard: My Life, My Dad, and the Things I'm Not Allowed to Say on TV", gave us plenty to talk about.

And talk we did.

Buck, who somehow managed to carve time out of his schedule while covering the Senior LPGA Skins Game—yes, Brockmire fans immediately understood the reference—joined us for a wide-ranging Zoom conversation that covered broadcasting, family, criticism, insecurity, his famous father, Jack Buck, social media, Matthew McConaughey, hair plugs and one of television's greatest fictional baseball announcers.

Unfortunately, technology decided it wanted to be part of the program.

The first 20 minutes of the session experienced recording issues, meaning part of what was a terrific opening conversation was lost to the digital equivalent of a rain delay. Fortunately, the remaining 40 minutes were preserved—and they provided more than enough Joe Buck stories, humor and insight to make the inaugural Book Club meeting one to remember.

One of the strongest themes running through "Lucky Bastard" is the complicated reality of growing up as the son of a broadcasting legend.

Joe Buck had the ultimate advantage and, in some ways, the ultimate pressure.

His father was Jack Buck.

But when asked about the lessons he learned from his father, Joe's answer wasn't about how to call a home run, describe a double play or wrap up a broadcast.

It was about something much bigger.

"It's how you go through life, and how you walk the earth, and who you touch along the way, and how you treat people."

Buck described his father as an "egoless good guy" who treated people well, and said those were the most important lessons he took from growing up around one of the greatest broadcasters who ever lived.

That theme would resurface throughout the afternoon.

Because while Joe Buck's career has included Super Bowls, World Series, historic home runs and championship moments, "Lucky Bastard" is at its best when it reminds readers that the biggest influence Jack Buck had on his son may have had very little to do with broadcasting.

Perhaps the most fascinating revelation in the book is that someone who has spent decades at the very top of his profession still battles insecurity.

Buck was remarkably candid about it.

He acknowledged feeling guilt about the advantages he received early in his career, including what he called a "fast track pass" toward the major leagues of broadcasting. He compared his path with broadcasters who spent years grinding their way through minor league cities and smaller markets.

"I think for me, I'm at least aware," Buck said. "I'm aware that I was lucky that way."

That awareness, he believes, may be part of what keeps him working.

Even after calling 24 World Series, Buck said he still sees himself as the young broadcaster trying to prove himself every time the red light comes on.

And perhaps that is the secret.

The insecurity that could have crippled someone else has instead become part of his preparation.

It keeps him working.

It keeps him preparing.

And, as Buck joked, perhaps it keeps him from becoming "an insufferable asshole."

That combination of honesty and self-deprecating humor was on display throughout the entire conversation.

For someone who has spent his career being evaluated by millions of viewers, Buck has developed a surprisingly healthy relationship with criticism.

That doesn't mean he enjoys all of it.

But he has learned to separate useful criticism from noise.

Buck specifically discussed longtime New York sports columnist Phil Mushnick, whose criticism of him over the years has occasionally been, shall we say, less than gentle.

Yet Buck admitted that some of those critiques actually made him better.

Sometimes, he said, criticism caused him to rethink whether he was trying too hard to be funny, cute or clever when the better approach was simply to call the game.

The key, Buck explained, is being honest enough with yourself to recognize criticism that has value.

Of course, that was before we even got to social media.

Joe Buck's father worked in an era when a broadcaster could say something controversial and perhaps receive a few angry letters.

Joe Buck works in an era when saying the wrong thing can result in approximately 47,000 people informing you within six seconds that you hate their team.

Buck described the challenge of being a national broadcaster, particularly in baseball.

Every fan base has its own beloved announcers. Every fan base believes those announcers are the proper soundtrack for baseball.

And when the national broadcast replaces them?

Well, good luck.

Buck specifically pointed to the Mets broadcast booth—Gary Cohen, Ron Darling and Keith Hernandez—as an example of why fans naturally prefer their own voices.

Mets fans don't necessarily want the national announcer.

They want Gary, Ron and Keith.

And Buck understands why.

The voices we grow up with become part of the experience. They trigger memories and emotions in ways that even the best national broadcaster cannot replicate. Buck compared the connection fans have with their hometown announcers to something deeply psychological—and completely understandable.

The result for a national broadcaster?

As Buck put it, after enough World Series, you've probably managed to annoy every fan base—including your hometown.

Then came one of the funniest—and most frightening—stories in "Lucky Bastard".

Buck underwent hair transplant procedures.

Unfortunately, one of them led to a nerve problem that left one of his vocal cords essentially paralyzed.

For most people, losing their voice would be inconvenient.

For Joe Buck, it threatened his livelihood.

Buck described going through an incredibly difficult period that coincided with a divorce and the frightening realization that the voice he depended upon professionally might not return.

Then, in the middle of all of it, he encountered Matthew McConaughey.

Buck, who had apparently spent some time wondering whether McConaughey might also have had some assistance in the hair department, told him what had happened.

McConaughey immediately delivered what may be the greatest medical diagnosis in Hollywood history.

Buck had fixed his video...

...but messed up his audio.

The line became even funnier because, as Buck explained, McConaughey delivered it instantly.

But behind the humor was a genuinely terrifying experience.

Buck spent an entire regular season struggling with his voice before eventually recovering enough to sound like himself again. He said the experience changed his perspective, particularly because he went from worrying about what he was going to say to worrying about what sound would actually come out of his mouth.

It also changed the way he broadcast.

After fighting to regain his ability to make a loud, energetic sound, Buck realized he no longer wanted to take that ability for granted.

Sometimes it takes losing something—or nearly losing it—to understand how much it means.

Of course, no conversation with Joe Buck was going to be completely serious.

Especially when Brockmire entered the discussion.

For those unfamiliar with the brilliant comedy series, Hank Azaria's Jim Brockmire considers Joe Buck something of a broadcasting nemesis—the Biggie and Tupac of the baseball-announcing world.

Buck didn't run away from the joke.

He embraced it.

And when asked whether appearing as an exaggerated and ridiculous version of himself worried him—particularly considering that some people already think Joe Buck is a jerk—Buck had the perfect response.

His eight-year-old son understood the joke.

So hopefully everyone else could too.

Buck explained that he loves making fun of himself and credited the show's writers and Azaria for creating something he considers genuinely brilliant. What began as an appearance eventually expanded, with Buck returning in later seasons.

And yes, for anyone wondering:

The Senior LPGA Skins Game reference in our opening was absolutely intentional.

https://youtu.be/Dv3uAOXF9a0?si=wxOFdr7w7ShVjhZA

Perhaps the most moving portion of the conversation involved Jack Buck's relationship with John O'Leary.

O'Leary suffered devastating burns as a nine-year-old boy and survived against extraordinary odds. Jack Buck became an important part of his life and recovery—a story that would eventually inspire the film "Soul on Fire".

What made the story even more remarkable was that Joe didn't fully understand the extent of his father's involvement at the time.

Jack Buck didn't come home and announce what he had done.

He didn't seek recognition.

He simply did what he believed was right.

"He didn't do it to take credit for it," Joe said.

That, perhaps, is the ultimate lesson in character.

What someone does when nobody is watching often tells you far more than what they do when everyone is.

The SABR audience was given an opportunity to ask questions, and one SABR member posed a fascinating one.

"Lucky Bastard" ends roughly a decade before the present. What would Joe Buck add if he were writing another chapter today?

His answer centered around what he called his "second life."

There has been a new marriage, young children, a move from St. Louis to Denver and a major professional transition from Fox to ESPN.

Buck said putting himself into unfamiliar situations—whether joining a new network or moving to a new city—has forced him to grow.

After spending the first 57 years of his life in St. Louis, he now finds himself raising young children in Denver while his adult daughters live their own lives in New York.

Life, Buck reminded everyone, can change quickly.

And sometimes forcing yourself out of your routine is exactly what helps you grow.

Not a bad lesson for any of us.

Another audience question asked Buck to consider the most historically significant events of his career.

The answers were what you might expect from someone who has had a front-row seat to baseball history.

The Red Sox breaking the Curse of the Bambino.

The White Sox winning in 2005.

The Cubs finally winning the World Series in 2016.

Mark McGwire's home run chase.

Buck spoke about the extraordinary responsibility of understanding history while also staying in the moment.

You know something significant may be happening.

You think about it before the game.

You prepare yourself.

And then, ultimately, you have to stop thinking.

Trust yourself.

Watch what happens.

And react.

Buck admitted that the McGwire home run chase was the rare time he prepared something he might say in advance.

But when the moment arrived, the game didn't follow the script.

Fortunately, neither did Buck.

He never looked down at his prepared words.

He watched.

And what he saw became the call.

The final question brought the conversation back to something that seemed to define the entire afternoon.

What does Joe Buck want people to remember when his broadcasting career is eventually over?

The calls?

The championships?

The historic moments?

The humor?

Buck's answer came back to the essence of his craft.

Rise to the moment.

Deliver it.

Then get out of the way.

Let the pictures speak.

Let the natural sound take over.

And remember something his father once told him:

If you get hit by a bus walking into the stadium, they're still going to play the game.

Someone else will call it.

They're not cancelling the game.

So act accordingly.

For someone who has spent decades in some of the biggest moments in sports history, it was perhaps the perfect perspective.

Joe Buck understands the importance of the moment.

He understands the responsibility of being the voice that millions of people will associate with history.

But he also understands that the game is bigger than the announcer.

And maybe that is one of the reasons he has been so good at what he does for so long.

The SABR Long Island Ralph Kiner Chapter could not have asked for a better guest—or a better conversation—to launch its Book Club.

Even if technology did manage to steal the first 20 minutes.

Joe Buck, fortunately, gave us plenty more to remember.

And somewhere, we suspect, Jim Brockmire is still furious.

The SABR Long Island Ralph Kiner Chapter Book Club is officially underway.

And if this was the beginning, we can't wait to see where the next chapter takes us.

Here is the recording of the last portion of our zoom :

https://youtu.be/EcmRFdxWrdo