"Hey - We Didn't Get Kirby's Autograph!"

Let's face it - how could you not love the name? Kirby. Puckett. Kirby Puckett. So it started there, with the catchy americana name, and then you saw the omnipresent smile attached to that bowling ball of a body. Then you loved him. And boy could he hit.

Kirby Puckett died yesterday at only 45, the result of a stroke he suffered the day before. I read a report where another former Twins great, Tony Oliva, had recently become concerned about Kirby's growing weight probelm. I suppose that says it all.

Kirby died far too young and his playing days ended far too soon. Perhaps the latter is part of the reason for the former as his playing career was cut short by injury and physical problems. I don't think Kirby ever really got over the abrupt ending of this career. Twelve years in the major leagues is a hell of a deal but Kirby might have played at least another five. He was an All-Star in 1995 and by the end of the next season it was all over.

Trouble followed. Kirby was hired by ABC to do color commentary for the Little League World Series and I recall that he struggled to get into the flow of the broadcast. It was not smooth and everybody knew it and I wasn't surprised when Kirby wasn't asked back the following year. In retrospect maybe it was unfair to toss him into that role that quickly without adequate training. I remember feeling sorry for him.

And then the real trouble followed: reports of spousal abuse and alledgedly groping a woman in a bar. It was shocking and disturbing news. The image of Kirby the pac-man with the big smile and sparkling eyes, the kids's cartoon character jetting around with bat and glove, got hammered. And in the back of my mind I wondered if this was all connected to the frustration and lonliness he felt from losing his way in life. Not that this is an excuse for anything but I still couldn't help but wonder. Again, I felt sorry for him. Here was the man who had brought me so much joy over the years, a contemporary really, and now he was floundering, a center fielder without a center field. He was caught in a rain delay that would never end.

I've been a Minnesota Twins fan my entire life and I have passed that along to my sons. Despite the fact that they are both older now the truth is Kirby meant a lot to them and his passing hurts. All families have little catch-phrases that resound with them forever and mean absolutely nothing to a stranger but I can't help but mention one now. Some time around 1993 we were walking back to the car after watching the Twins play the Texas Rangers. This was back when the Rangers were still playing at the old crappy stadium in Arlington. Benjamin turns to my dad and me and says, "hey, we didn't get Kirby's autograph" (which I had told him we would try to do) with as much earnestness as any six year old could muster, as if we should all just turn around and somehow go back and get Kirby's autograph. We all cracked up and we still do to this day whenever that phrase is uttered.

I hope Kirby found some peace over these last years of his life. The obituary stated that he had a fiance and I'll take that as a good sign. Well, this is the end and I suppose I should write something like hey Kirby, "rest in peace" which is better I guess than "not resting in peace" or "resting in turmoil." But somehow I just can't escape the image of a loud rustling within a corn field and the sudden appearance of the unmistakable image of one Kirby Puckett, pounding his glove with his fist as he trots onto his very own field of dreams, head tilted slightly back and with that eternal smile spreading across his face.