Bill Buckner getting a standing ovation at Fenway.
If you're not a Red Sox fan and have no clue who Buckner is, he's the guy that blew the '86 series for us. A routine ground ball went right through his legs, costing us the series. He was hated in Beantown. That was the closest we'd come to a championship in a loooong time and it was pretty simple to dump those years of frustration and agony solely on the shoulders of that one man and is fielding error.
And yet today, at our home opener, celebrating last year's big win, here comes Billy to the mound to throw the first pitch. And he is cheered. And cheered. And cheered.
There's something so beautiful about that moment. I cannot imagine the pain and ridicule that this guy faced for years. The jokes, the putdowns. Sure, he blew a pretty simple play that cost us the game, but we as fans (and a city) were not about to let him off the hook for it - ever. I can't imagine an entire city putting me on their "most hated" list (for decades).
Yet it seems we have finally let it go(although interestingly it took TWO championships, not one).
Bill Buckner is vindicated.
It really is beautiful.
I couldn't help but think, in all that emotion of that touching scene of how much like Billy I am. I've had some pretty big screw-ups in life. And if God were the Boston Red Sox (superfans, notice I said IF), I've let Him down a lot worse; He knows and I know it. Yet Jesus is standing there in the crowd, ready to take me back. Ready to reinstate me. Ready to say "Welcome home, John".
I'm just glad Jesus didn't make me wait 20 years to forgive me.
