With Bucky, there was never any question where he stood. What you saw was what you got. At work, as well as in the real world. My son and I were at Wilson of Tacoma for ODP tryouts, along with several hundred other Beckham want-a-be’s and their proud parents. So here I’m am, walking across this complex of fields, little Steven in tow, cleats on his feet and a soccer ball under his arm, and out of nowhere I hear “Hey Dahl” followed by a number of descriptive adjectives that aren’t appropriate for this forum (or a soccer field full of early teens and their parents). There is no mistaking for whom I was receiving this verbal abuse. I scanned the horizon, and there, over two fields a way, is our good old friend Bucky Buchanan. Trying to ignore him or pretend I didn’t hear him was out of the question, so Steven and I started walking toward the mound of sound. We get within about 30 yards and Mike reaches down, grabs the bottom of his tee shirt and lifts it up over his head, flashing me and several hundred young men and their shocked and bewildered parents. Parents shielded their little kiddies eyes and tried their best to scurry them away from Namu of the North as others shrieked in horror. I’m sure there were many kids sleeping with the lights on after that sight. Of course all Mike was doing was showing off his zipper chest.
Few in VM received as much grief, and nobody dished out anymore then Bucky. However, it was never meant to offend. Never meant to be mean or spiteful. Always meant to be funny. Always an expression of endearment. Bucky was easily in my top 10 Metrodite. And I have no doubt that Bucky made the top 10 list of many others. Both in and away from Metro.
Bruce Dahl
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