The story of a McMaster legend ends too soon
Jason Buckle was ‘devastating’ on the wrestling mat. It’s the same word being used to describe his death at age 27
He signed up for every sport in high school. Baseball, basketball, soccer, volleyball. Even football. If it involved competing, he was interested.
But my goodness he was tiny.
“Oh, he was so small it was comical,” says Matt Fortuna, who coached a couple of those teams at St. Jean de Brébeuf.
The kid wasn’t deterred. No matter how small Jason Buckle was and how much those pads draped off him like an oversized suit of armour, he played hard. And he was tougher than year-old beef jerky. His high school football coach recalls a moment early on when he fearlessly tackled a player a foot taller and 100 pounds heavier than Buckle himself.
But it was when he stripped off all the equipment and found his way onto the wrestling mat that he really shone. All five-foot-two and 100 pounds of him.
That’s where Ahmed Shamiya first saw him. The kid who looked like everyone’s little brother was destroying anyone unfortunate enough to draw him at that
high school tournament. A few weeks later, the larger Shamiya (who became a star at McMaster and is now the school’s coach) ended up at a wrestling camp with Buckle where he was pretty confident he’d manhandle the undersized kid when given the chance.
“He kicked my ass,” he laughs. Out of his singlet, the guy those in wrestling simply called Buckle — to everyone else he was Jay — didn’t look like whatever you might expect an elite wrestler to look like. Many say that. He always had a smile, was lighthearted, gregarious, selfdeprecating, joked around, knew some magic tricks, got himself qualified in SCUBA and even played a bit of guitar. He even felt badly for opponents he beat.
By the time he got to Mac, he’d grown a few inches from those Grade 9 days and put on 50 pounds. Yet when he stood alongside football and rugby and basketball players for the 2012 athletic award winners’ group photo (he was the top male rookie for all sports), he still looked like the guy who’d just been named manager of the year.
But once you put another man in front of him and blew a whistle to start a match?
“He turned into an animal,” Shamiya says.
“He was terribly devastating on the mat,” says longtime Mac coach Nick Cipriano.
“A lot of people said, ‘I don’t know if I want to go on the mat with Buckle,’” his mom, Jackie, says.
By the time his five years were up, he’d claimed an astonishing five provincial championships in addition to three national silver medals and a bronze. Three times he was named Ontario university male wrestler of the year, something only one other person has ever done.
Cipriano says the secret was a work ethic that allowed him to push himself to the point of discomfort in training and then stay there. Few could keep up. Others talk about that, too. Nobody worked harder. Nobody was fitter. Nobody was more focused or driven. Nobody expected more of himself.
So it was really no surprise that once the east Mountain kid’s athletic career ended, he figured out the next step of his life rather quickly. The 27-yearold graduated with a degree in kinesiology, went to teachers’ college and this past fall, started substitute teaching at elementary schools in Ottawa.
Which is where the call came from earlier this month.
The Ottawa police officer who was on the phone had to repeat his message a couple times. Maybe more. Because the words he was saying — that Buckle had collapsed and died — made no sense. There had to be a mistake.
No. An autopsy would determine he’d suffered a sudden and fatal brain aneurysm.
Jackie and her partner rushed to Buckle’s dad’s place to tell him the awful news. Then to their other son’s home to let him know. Meanwhile, word was getting out to friends and former teammates. Soon most of the local wrestling community was sharing the shock.
He’d never had a head injury that anyone could remember. He was healthy. He was young. C’mon, he was Jason Buckle. You don’t expect anyone his age to go this way. But him of all people?
“It’s a fluke,” Jackie says. “It’s just a fluke.”
No doubt. But what a terrible one.