I grew up in a baseball loving family. My grandmother followed the Cincinnati Reds faithfully, attending as many games as she could and listening to the others on the radio. Her son, my father, wasn't quite as devoted, but even so, when I got my first radio I joined them. I can't count the number of times I fell asleep listening to the game, always enjoying the easy banter of Al Michaels and Joe Nuxhall, and always hoping I'd make it to hear Joe say, "This is the old lefthander, rounding third and heading for home", at the close of his post-game wrapup. With a few exceptions, baseball teams were like families then.
When the strikes began, and I began to see that dollars were more important than people and relationships, my interest declined. Yes, it was a myth that I'd loved, but even so it hurt to see it so callously punctured in the sports and business pages.
One person sparked a small resurgence of interest. That was Kirby Puckett. A short, squat man, he played the game beautifully despite having such an improbable physique for it. It wasn't how well he played that captured my attention, however—it was his way of being. He seemed to always have a smile on his face, was always positive and upbeat. And he seemed to genuinely love playing the game. He was gracious in victory as well as defeat. I began watching the Minnesota Twins just to see him. He became an inspiration, an unlikely role model for me.
Then the Twins discarded him, and I stopped following baseball altogether.
I did hear that he was voted into the Hall of Fame. But my disgust with baseball overshadowed my interest in individuals, and my memories of Kirby faded. Until today.
Kirby Puckett died yesterday after having a stroke Sunday. He was just 45 years old. It may seem silly to many of you, that I'm devoting so much time to an athlete, and struggling to see this screen through a blur of tears, but Mr. Puckett was much more than an athlete to me. His love of the game and his can-do attitude were both singular attributes in these cynical times; that he possessed both elevated him to top-notch status in my mind. My world is a little darker today ... but I'm happy to have had a wealth of memories returned to me; and I hope I can inspire just one person the way Kirby Puckett inspired me.
A Truly Great One Passes
Pagan says:
Thanks for that. As another fan of Kirby Puckett, I remember he was not only a talented and upbeat baseball player, but was also a very gracious and compassionate man.
In an era when big egos went looking for bigger dollars, he let his worth speak on the field. During a time of racial anger and some vindictiveness, he never allowed himself to take the low road and join the melee. While others shined the light on themselves for good works, he quietly let his actions do his speaking for him.
He was a true gentleman.
Billy Beck says:
I played centerfield as a kid. Many years later, Kirby showed me what a serious effort in the game would have aspired to, although the fact is that I never would have had the arm for it. I never in my life saw anyone better out there, and he was a big, big deal in making the 1991 World Series the best I ever saw, and arguably the best of all time.
It's a blessing that he played in my lifetime.
Well done, Kirby.
Moni(ka) says:
The first live baseball game I ever saw was at the opening of the European Center of Little League in Kutno, Poland, about 6 years ago. Steve was writing a piece on that. I instantly became fascinated with the game, and now we live about 100 yards from the OU baseball stadium and watch the game from a nearby hill.
At the opening of Little League Center Steve and I had the chance to meet Stan "The Man" Musial. He even knew a little Polish, having roots in that country.
I'm sorry to hear your idol has passed on, Sunni.
Garry Reed says:
I was a rabid baseball fan as a kid and knew all the star players on all of the (then) 16 major league teams. The first big league games I ever went to in person were to see the almost brand new (moved from Washington the year before) Minnesota Twins in the old Met stadium in Bloomington. In California I went to Dodgers and Angels games but cheered mightily for the Twins in their 7-game 1965 World Series loss to the Dodgers. I slowly lost interest in baseball in general until the Twins suddenly returned to pennant contention. I watched every playoff and series game that I could in both their World Series winning years. I especially remember the end of the 87 series, when the TV announcer noted in wonderment that nobody would leave the stadium after the final out. They, along with me on my couch in Texas, were savoring that moment, waiting as we had for 22 years to avenge the championship that had gotten away. The 91 series was just as exciting, proving that the previous one hadn’t been a fluke. And there was never any doubt in my mind that the difference-maker was Kirby Puckett. When he left Minnesota I left baseball. For 27 years I’ve lived within pop fly distance of the Texas Rangers ballpark (first the old and now the new) and never felt like attending a game. Kirby was my last tie to my boyhood love affair with the game.
Endervidual says:
Like Garry and Billy, I was a ball player when younger. I followed the Milwaukee Braves when I was small and later played little league. When I was playing my best, I played outfield. Even after I stopped playing baseball, I still played softball. (I know, it's not the same, but it was better than nothing.)
I stopped regularly following the pro game long ago, but -- like you -- I did notice Kirby Puckett. He was a great player and seemed to exude a different sort of charisma than most other players of his era.
Although I don't follow baseball at all anymore (or even play softball now), the game and world may seem a little less bright knowing he's gone. However, like many other people -- both athletes and not -- it is a better place for him having been here.
Scott H. says:
Don't know if you would be interested in this, but I have a possible meditation technique for you. Its one that I use myself. It involves runes, which are the ancient Germanic writing alphabets. I seem to get a "Norse" vibe from you whenever I look at your sight, so I felt I should suggest this.
Put simply, when you are meditating, visualize in your mind one of the runes. You might even try chanting the name of the rune on a long exhale. My favorite futharc, or alphabet, is the Elder futharc, but there are others to choose from, as you can see here:
http://www.omniglot.com/writing/runic.htm
Hold the visualized rune image as steady and solid as you can. You might notice that the rune wants to change shape, or other images or whatever want to blot it out. Even if you don't feel a particular affinity with ancient Germanic or Scandinavian culture or history, visualizing and holding an image in your mind's eye is still a good meditation technique.
Good luck!
Sunni says:
Hi Scott, and thanks for the suggestion. It's curious that you see a Norse vibe here; I am half Scandinavian but don't see that expressed in the blog design. I like your idea and will try it!
Oh, I also enjoyed this link I discovered after following yours: Runes through time, which has a nifty "see your name in runes" gizmo at the top.