Sad Day for Baseball
Hall of Famer Kirby Puckett, who played outfield for the Minnesota Twins for 12 years, died yesterday at the age of 45. Puckett suffered a stroke on Sunday and never recovered after surgery.
Kirby seemed like a joy to be around. It's easy to remember his short legs churning in the outfield as he rocketed toward a deep fly ball, then jumping almost his height to rob someone of a homerun. He would jog in expressionless and toss the ball to an umpire as if someone made that kind of play everyday. His big smile would erupt, though, once he got in the dugout and someone called him a showoff or asked how he did it. You could easily tell he loved life and made it fun for those around him.
From Jayson Stark at espn.com:
Stark also recalls this story:In the 12 seasons Kirby Puckett brightened the big leagues with his magical presence, 96 different men made it to home plate wearing the uniform of the Minnesota Twins.
But 95 of those men merely played for the Twins.
Kirby Puckett was the Twins.
As we think back now on The Puck Years, we kind of remember Jack Morris as a Twin. And Kent Hrbek, Gary Gaetti, Frank Viola -- they were all in there somewhere, too.
But they were just best-supporting actor nominees to that 5-foot-8 leading pudgeball who made those Twins go. And made them laugh. And, most of all, made them win.
It was Kirby Puckett's world. Everyone else in town was just grateful he handed out plenty of tickets for the ride.
When you thought of the Twins of the late 1980s and early '90s, the same image seemed to be stuck in your head.
You thought of that little chubmeister center fielder of theirs, making all those plays he had no business making, cranking out 200-hit seasons as though he was Ty Cobb.
In the top of the 11th inning of a tie game with Toronto, he singled off Blue Jays closer Duane Ward. A moment later, Ward wheeled and fired a quick pickoff attempt that sailed right by startled first baseman John Olerud, kicking off a game-winning four-run inning.
So why, you ask, did Olerud not notice that pickoff throw flying in his direction? He was too busy talking to his good buddy, Kirby Puckett. Why else?
Then again, of course he was. There was no greater treat in the life of any player than to get to spend a moment, however brief, chatting it up with Puck. Because you always walked away with a grin the size of Lake Minnetonka.
