Several years ago my friends warned me not to wear this shirt to Yankee Stadium. I ignored their pleas and wore everything I had. I rode to 161st on the D. A Yankee fan from VA told me that I was brave. His wife said I was stupid. We spoke about Bucky Dent. Exiting from the subway a group of yankee fans yelled that they should burn my shirt. They were young and drunk. There was only two ways out and my fighting days were over, so I shouted, “Bucky Dent had a corked bat.”
“Really?” They respected my age and I related a story about Mickie Rivers having given Bucky Dent a corked bat to hit that fateful home run.
“You’re all right, man.” We said goodbye with pumped fists.
Several minutes later a young man shouted, “Burn that shirt.”
It was the young man from before. He recognized me with a laugh and apologized before hugging me.
“Bucky Dent, Bucky Dent, Bucky Dent.”
I laughed but truthfully that homer still hurts.
Bucky Fuckin’ Dent.