Marc Buoniconti - Undefeated: From Tragedy to Triumph

A POST HILL PRESS BOOK

Undefeated:

From Tragedy to Triumph

2017 by Marc Buoniconti

All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 978-1-68261-457-0

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-68261-458-7

Cover Design by Ryan Truso

Interior Design and Composition by Greg Johnson/Textbook Perfect

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

Post Hill Press

New York Nashville

posthillpress.com

Published in the United States of America

Chapter 2

The Sweet Life

MOM: Nick and I were high school sweethearts. We grew up in Springfield, Massachusetts, in the 1950s. Both of our grandparents were immigrants, so our parents were first-generation Americans. Since my father was Italian and my mother was Polish, we were considered to live in the American neighborhood. Everyone in Nicks neighborhood was Italian.

It was funny because Nicks mom noted that I wasnt all Italian. But I was 100 percent Catholic and that went a long way. I sold Nick a raffle ticket in ninth grade, and he still says its the most expensive ticket he has ever bought. We were fourteen years old at the time. He grew up in the south end, right behind the Mt. Carmel Church. Nick was an altar boy.

All of his family, which included thirteen aunts, would come over every Sunday for dinner. I couldnt tell them apart for a long time. His grandfather was sweet, and all his aunts were nice. Nick had a nice upbringing, just like I did.

My dad worked twenty-five years in circulation for the Springfield Union newspaper. Then he sold Ruppert Knickerbocker beer. My mother was a tough lady who worked in a factory. My parents worked hard and so did Nicks. His family owned a modest Italian bakery called Mercolinos on Columbus Avenue, which still exists today. His mom worked there too. There were a lot of houses where both parents had jobs. These werent career jobs like today. Those people had to work. My mother worked 3 p.m. to 11 p.m. in a coil factory. And she never stopped working because she never forgot the pain of the Depression.

During the 1930s, she was the only one in her family who had a job. Her brother and parents werent able to find work during the Depression and they struggled. She worked for Westinghouse in a huge factory in Springfield. There were a lot of factories in the area back then. She finished high school and went right to work. My mother couldnt imagine leaving her family because she was the only one making any money. She didnt marry my father until she was twenty-six, which at the time was considered old to be just getting married. When my grandfather died, my moms mother came to live with us. She never learned English, so my brother and I grew up speaking Polish. When my grandmother died, my mother stopped speaking to us in Polish. My father never spoke Italian around the house. His mother said, I came all the way to America and I am going to speak English. It was just the opposite in Nicks house, where everyone spoke Italian.

My mother wouldnt consider working anywhere other than the factory out of fear of being without a job. She didnt make much money, but she worked hard. And she was strict. We called it the Polish Training Camp, which eventually is how my kids referred to our home. My dad had a nice job, but my parents couldnt get married until the economic situation of their families became better established.

Nick and I had a little fight our senior year and it was over between us for a while. He finished high school and waved goodbye on his way to college. Then at Easter of our freshman year, he called and we got back together. Three years later we married right around Easter time of his senior year at Notre Dame. We were twenty-one years old. I was working as a registered nurse. I had completed a three-year program, so I had a job and a car, a little Falcon. It was nice. We were two kids growing up quickly, and we had three babies right away.

The first two, Gina and Nicky, are a year and two weeks apart. Then I had Marc. I had a three-year-old, a two-year-old, and a newborn. I wanted a fourth child, but I found out I was RH positive, which is an incompatibility in blood type. These days its not a big deal, but back then it was an issue. My body essentially rejected the baby, and based on what was to come, things probably worked out for the best. Soon after, Nick was traded from Boston to Miami. He had just finished law school at Suffolk, going to class at night. There was one tall building in Miami when we moved there in 1969, the courthouse downtown on Flagler Street. The Biltmore hotel in Coral Gables was used as a navigational aid to boaters so they could find their way home. Miami was a much different place then.

Nick not only played professional football, but he had a job in the offseason too. I was very proud of him. Both of us were from very modest backgrounds, and we were thrilled with whatever came our way. There was one swimming pool for 150,000 people in Springfield when we were kids. In Miami, we had a swimming pool in our back yard.

Marc was still in diapers when we came to Miami. We arrived in June and he didnt turn three until September. He was a late bloomer when it came to getting out of diapers. I remember saying, You know, Marc, they dont have diapers in Miami so what are we going to do? He got out of diapers right away after that.

Nick would take Marc and Nicky to the Orange Bowl for walkthroughs on Saturdays before Sunday NFL games. Thats what Marc loved to do. He was thrilled. The kids would run all over the Orange Bowl. They would run the steps and play all over the field. Marc would only occasionally go to the games because he was so young, but Nicky went. When we were still in Boston, I took Gina to one game. They actually played at Fenway Park in those days. She was so cute. A fan screamed and she started crying, so that was her last game. You forget that this little baby probably isnt going to like all the screaming and yelling.

As the boys grew up, the fact that their father played professional football was just part of their experience, no big deal. The Dolphins quarterback, Bob Griese, was at our house one day and the boys and their friends were so excited. Then someone said something about their father, Nick, being a Dolphins player, too, but about that they were unimpressed. One of the kids said, Oh, thats just Nickys dad. They didnt make the connection.

Later on, when the boys grew up and started playing football, they would have their teammates over to the house before a game to watch a video of the Dolphins undefeated 1972 season, which is still an NFL record. They would sit in the family room and watch the video to get fired up for the game. Marc was born in 1966, so he was only six years old that season.

I was a strict mother. I would throw the kids out in the morning so they could play. When they came home for dinner, even with their friends, everyone had to wear a shirt with sleeves, no tank tops allowed. If their friends didnt have proper attire, then I provided it for them. My rules were non-negotiable and I expected them to be followed. Everyone had to be home at 6 oclock for dinner. No excuses, no exceptions. There were two other big rules: Get good grades and dont lie. I always told them they didnt have to get all As. Just do your best.

Only one of the three, Nicky, took an Advanced Placement class in high school. I had two kids who worked hard for the good grades they received. Ironically, Marc might have been the smartest one, but he never studied. Nothing about school worked for Marc. The other two did pretty well.