Ode (Owed) to BUZZY

This is a sad story about a dear-dear friend that I LOST along the way, and the last encounter we ever had together.

Circa: Way Back When- I was 31 years old.
Setting: 1986 @ a playground in Phoenix, AZ.
Parties Involved: Buzzy Hetrick, my friend, and I.

BACKGROUND:
Let me tell you about Buzzy as a person:
He was 4 years older, and in my younger years he would come to my house, pick me up in his VW Bug and drive to the Buhl Club (a precursor to 24-Hr Fitness), where extremely competitive pick-up basketball games involved serious-minded athletes from 3 different cities. Man, I can still remember one occasion riding in his car during a blistering cold winter in PA, (like it was yesterday). I can still feel that chill in my bones…

Buzzy followed my brief career and was at every High School B-Ball game my Senior year. Totally oblivious to the onlookers, he would come down from the stands to courtside and chit-chat at my pre-game shoot arounds.  We would talk as if we were the only 2 in the gymnasium. Every now and then, I’d throw him the ball so he could fire up a long-range bomb!  

Let me tell you about Buzzy as a ball player:
Before I ever met him, I remember hearing stories about him biting someone’s nose, as he could be volatile. Buzzy & I were street ball fanatics. He was my height and lightning fast. Although he was a good outside shooter, he mostly played ‘downhill’ (meaning he’d drive like a speed demon to the bucket.)  We would always call him for traveling, as we accused him of takin 2 ½ steps (which the NBA allows today…LOL). Buzzy and I always got along, even though we were ferociously competitive. Despite the fact that we were always on different pick-up teams- there was ALWAYS mutual respect.

I remember one time we were shooting around at a hoop located behind Stefanick Veterinary’s back Parking Lot. The garage door was open, and an unconnected telephone was on the wall. I pretended to speak to someone and proceed to prank Buzzy. I hollered out, “Hey Buz- you got a phone call, man. I think it’s urgent!” Buzzy immediately came over, put the phone to his ear, and began SHOUTING, “Hello? Hello? HELLO?!” Everyone started cracking up, but Buz just ignored the LAUGHTER, immediately threw DOWN the phone, ran towards an errant bouncing ball, and fired it up to the hoop without skipping a beat! Just thinking about it now makes me chuckle…Cuz, Buzzy was a TRIP!

Sidenote: There’s an old Basketball drill called ‘FAST HANDS’. It’s where you hold the ball behind your back (waist high), drop it to the floor, CLAP your hands in front of your stomach, and then try to CATCH the ball before it hits the ground. I learned this drill from an ole B-Ball coach who told me that I was one of only a handful of players that could catch the ball….Well, Buzzy can do it too!  

Our last encounter:
After a decade, we re-connected at his Phoenix Apt. Looking back at it now, I saw signposts (but I purposefully ignored them). One, was Buzzy throwing a rubber ball to his son (around 8 years of age at the time) as hard as he could within 10 feet! I mean, those throws were BLISTERING! His son, surprisingly, was catching most of them with his baseball glove, but he was struggling and naturally, frightened. This went on for about 5 minutes…Afterwards, we somehow ENDED UP on a playground court.

I thought we were just going to shoot around and talk about old times, but Buzzy kept challenging me to play one-on-one. I graciously REFUSED his offer several times but Buzzy kept INSISTING. I told him that I haven’t pick up a ball in several years and am rusty. But Buzzy kept FORCING the issue (another signpost!). It was as if he had something to prove! Looking back at it, he was looking for self-validation, and I was the guineapig he wanted to SLAUGHTER that day.

I told him again and again, that I wasn’t in B-Ball shape, as I was training seriously with weights at that time. But, Buzzy wasn’t taking NO for an answer and kept PRESSING and pressing (another signpost!) He started getting verbally aggressive and TESTY with me…next thing I knew, my fiercely competitive side KICKED-IN, and we were in a serious combative game up to 10 buckets…Damn! (I did NOT want that, Buz!)

After Buzzy missed his first shot, I rebounded and took my time…backed him down, then SPUN for an easy bucket. Both of us were going back & forth, talking trash in between the action. It was Make-it Take-it, so as long as I didn’t miss, I had the ball. Knowing my stamina was a weak point, I strategically SLOWED DOWN the momentum of the game to my favor (as I was much heavier). I knew I had to preserve my energy, so I was not wasting it on any fancy handle moves. Luckily my touch came back to me, and I made several open shots. Not given the opportunity to score, Buz became RESTLESS.

Seeing that, I used his negative energy to my advantage and heightened his frustration by continually asking him ‘what the score was’. I did this after every bucket, playing stupid- PRETENDING to forget, when I knew all along that he hasn’t scored and was being shut out. (I deeply regret that…not proud of that).

I was eventually up 9-0 and rubbed the SHUT-OUT in (a little too much…another regret). Needless to say, the spirit of the game took a deep SOUR NOTE between us, and we left splitting company on IFFY TERMS…We never did finish that  game. We parted company and got into our respective cars, leaving our once close relationship injured.

Our last conversation:
I was stopped at a red light and Buz pulled up next to me, ROLLED DOWN his window and spouted, “Hey, Sin-Check, you still talk’n shit?” Without hesitation, I immediately retorted, “Hey Buzzy, you STILL TAK’N IT?” …We both drove off and I never heard from him again….EVER!

P.S.
2 Months later, I got a phone call from Chrissy, his wife, and she told me Buzzy committed suicide…(Come on, man…Please…No! No!....NO!!! Please!) Apparently, Buz wrote a 10-page suicide note, trimmed his beard, folded the laundry meticulously, and then hung himself in the closet with a rope! Crissy told me, she came home and had to cut him down…OH, MY, MY…This can’t be real.

B.P.S.
In October, it will be 40 years since Buzzy took his own life and it haunts me to this very day. Such guilt…such remorse…such regret…I have carried ‘all of that’ for all these years. If only I could go back in time and relive just 1 moment (at the red light)…

I would simply respond, “I’m sorry Buz, you’re a good friend, and I love you, Bro.” …If only Buzzy could hear the GROANS of my heart ☹. If only I told him how much he meant to me, how he was a mentor, in many ways. If only I had validated him…but I didn’t…That’s on me…R.I.P., my old friend, R.I.P - may one day we meet again (on the Other Side).

When grief morphs into confession…From the Lookout Post  

https://azcentral.newspapers.com/article/the-arizona-republic-obituary-for-ray-he/37808854/