Missing my friend Troy Siade

Every August 14th, I remember my good friend Troy. He would have been 50 today.

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I don’t get sentimental here often. I try to post 50 regular articles for every semi sentimental or personal piece. However, today I am going to talk about my late friend Troy Siade.

Manual Scoreboard
Manual Scoreboard- Manual scoreboard operators Troy Siade, left, and Danny Buffa take in the Cardinals-Giants game from their favorite spot behind the manual scoreboard at Busch Stadium Wednesday night.

Troy Siade would have been 50 years old today. He was an Italian prince in a white t-shirt and short blue jean shorts that made the manual scoreboard a place to be. You could have been as cold as the North Pole, and Troy would make you laugh. He had a way of cutting though the bullshit in life and made you happy to be around him. He would bust my chops because I was like a younger brother to him. I took it in spades and with a fair measure of pride. There were days where an hour would go by on the board and we would just give each other shit or bust each other’s balls while mixing in serious things to talk about. With Troy, it all came free and easy. 

I’ll never forget him driving our supervisor Joe Graman crazy by hitting on his pretty daughter when she came to visit the board. Joe was a military veteran so Troy would go all the way down to the National League or a decent distance from Joe and say something like, “Man, I just want to settle down, marry a girl, whose dad has a boat.” Yes, Joe had a boat. Troy would cut the tension in the room like a knife would slice through a warm slab of butter. He was fearless, hilarious and treated his friends like family.

I’ll never forget him getting sensual with a picture of Art Holliday in a suite at Busch after a game. He gave cocky flamboyance a brand new name every night downtown. Troy would walk down the ramp at Busch and say out loud, “Hey ladies, I drive a JAGUAARRRRR!” and “Man it sucks being RICH!” All a friend could do was laugh. You had to dig the guy. He was a one of a kind.

I looked up to him like the older brother I was deprived of during those days. Every year since he has been gone I feel this pain some nights when the Cards win big or a Jim Edmonds highlight is shown. Every August 14th I get my ass kicked emotionally and I hide it well because no one needs to see a bearded bald dude cry. I just miss him and wish he was still here.

The saddest thing in life is regret. A little while before he passed, Troy surprised my wife Rachel and I for a dinner. It was out of the blue and caught me off guard. We had previous plans with my parents and you don’t break those off. So we turned him down. I wish I would have brought him along. My dad and the two of us may have been asked to leave the restaurant because of how loud we would have gotten, but it would have been worth the trouble. Troy talked a lot, just like me. Nobody could shut him up. They couldn’t contain him. Only hope to try. That’s why I loved him. There are certain people you meet in life that you can be your 100 percent self around. Troy was one of them.

As humans we always think we have more time. That there will be another time. It’s a flaw. With Troy, there wasn’t. He got sick soon afterwards with Non Hodgkins Lymphoma and was gone soon afterwards. He would die before his 39th birthday on April 23rd, 2004. That shiny black hair gone and that unbreakable spirit somewhat tinted.

I just wish I had more time. I just wish I had more time with my friend. My brother from another mother. Someone who never made me feel the need to change or watch what I say.

Just another reminder that Cancer really fucking sucks.

Rest in peace my good friend. Troy would have loved to watch this moment from his favorite player, Jim Edmonds.

Author: D. Buffa

A regular guy who feels a journalistic hunger to tell the news. I blog because its wired into my brain to write what I think in print. I offer an opinion. A solo tour here. Take regular stories and offer my spin on them. Sports, film, television, music, fatherhood, culture, food, and so on. Commentary on everything. A St. Louis native and Little Rock resident who wants to write just to keep the hands fresh and ready.

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