I can't believe the news today. I can't close my eyes and make it go away... Kirby Puckett, the greatest Minnesota Twin of all time, our hero growing up, a World Series champion, the little engine that could, did, and then would do again, is gone. The keys on my computer can't type words fast enough to explain my thoughts. The keys are crying as my emotions are scattered. I look for words that could possibly explain the loss to the Minnesota Sports World, but all I find is "Where have you gone Kirby Puckett?"
You see Puck was more than just an icon, Kirby was Minnesota baseball, he was the standard that all fans in the Midwest aspired to be. He was a great character, a fire plug. The Yankees had solution Joe and the Mick, the Red Sox had Yaz, and the Twins had the Puck. We had the Puck.
Today I showed up for work with the heaviest heart since the loss of Vikings Offensive Tackle Korey Stringer. Kirby was in dire state, suffering from a stroke. By all accounts, the man who gave us "See yah Tomorrow Night" had met his final "Yesterday."My morning coffee buddy could tell that I was not the same, and asked what was wrong. When I told her of my sorrow, she just sort of scoffed and said, "You mean you are sad for that wife beater?" I don't recall any court of law EVER convicting Kirby of any sort of thing.
I was shocked. Words avoided me all day. To hear that this was someone's only impression of Mr. Puckett a such a dire time, was as crass as it could get. It saddens me to think that this great baseball man could only be thought of in those terms, by many who would easily put him in the same category as O.J. Simpson. The man was fighting for his life.
I am sure the beating he took by the Minnesota court of public opinion after an acquittal of sexual harassment charges took its toll on the man. I am very sad about that. Kirby has always been one of my favorite sports guys of all-time. He brought Minnesota it's only REAL World Titles, and the community shunned him when they thought he was a fake, when he needed them most. The alledged wife beatings, and cheatings and all that, to me are just that. It's sad to see how his private life (what is true, what is not, what can be proven, what cannot) is ultimately what people will remember.
But I will always remember "Puck" as that dude who came over to a college student sitting alone by the Twins bullpen. He was jogging in from leftfield after shagging flies, and I called out, "Hey Puck!"
He nodded, and turned direction, catching me off guard as he ran right to where I was sitting.
"What's up big guy?" He asked now just a few feet away from me. I had nothing, I was just flabbergasted by the unexpected friendliness, "What do you want me to sign?"
I was wearing a Watertown, SD VFW hat, so I quickly pulled it off my head and offered it up.
"You got a pen?"
I was busted, and had to confess that I really didn't have anything. He started laughing, and clearly sensing my nervousnes quickly calmed me down like he would do for so many fans who he treated as equals.
"That's okay man, I'll just hang out here for awhile and there will a ton of kids with sharpies and stuff."
"So VFW huh? Do you play?"
"No, I was a coach."
"How did you guys do this season?"
We struck up a nice little 15 second or so conversation about VFW baseball, and soon enough, as predicted, a crowd of kids had migrated to us.
"See, I told you! Do any of you kids have a pen, so I can sign this guys VFW hat?"
I will never forget that whole short conversation. How it was that he ended up signing my hat and laughed with me about how funny it was that I didn't have a pen. It was that same guy, with that same disposition that put all of his teammates at ease when they needed it most; that clutch hit, the south side slang, a joke, a rub on the bald head, that intangible leadership, the home run stealing catch over the hefty bag, that rare thing called poise. You can't teach it, you can't acquire it, you just have it.
Kirby had it and needed more than anybody. He needed that adoring Minnesota Public, the fans he once called, "The Greatest fans in the World" more than life itself. Minnesota was Kirby's state, he earned the right, but guess what? When he needed it most, the land of 10,000 lakes turned its back on him.
He left his job in the Twins front office and moved to Arizona, to the land of retired baseball players. He had his rings, and Hall of Fame plaque and commnity awards, but he did not have his adoring public. Instead, Kirby must of felt as if his World had eaten him away.
In rare public appearances at Timberwolves games, or celebrity charity events, people were noticing that Kirby was growing in physical stature. As his body ballooned, his prominence as a baseball icon shrunk to nearly nothing. He was invited to Twins baseball events like Twinfest and the Winter Caravan tours, but he chose to stay out of the public eye.
Tonight, tomorrow and for the next week, local TV stations and dorky radio talk show hosts who publicly despise the game of baseball, will attempt to eulogize Kirby Puckett. I don't need them to remind me of how great Kirby was to all of us in this state, I need them to just shut up and let the baseball world speak for the Puck.
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