The Best World Series Ever-Games 6 and 7

In 1991 Major League Baseball's World Series pitted two teams which had finished last in their respective divisions in the previous season. The National League's Atlanta Braves had won only 65 of their 162 games in 1990 and then improved by winning 29 more games in 1991 to finish with a 94-68 record.

The American League representative, the Minnesota Twins, had gone 74-88 in 1990 and then improved by 21 games, finishing with a 95-67 record in 1991, finishing 8 games ahead of the second-place Chicago White Sox.

I moved to Minneapolis in the fall of 1988. I got a job as an usher at Twins games in the spring of 1989. I enjoyed the heck out of being at a major league ballpark for the first time in my life. It was kind of a dream come true. I grew up loving baseball more than anything other than my mother, so this was the thrill of a lifetime.  

I once recall when I was working the "late night ticket office" position after a home game in 1989, sitting in section 129 at the Metrodome with most of the lights off in the empty Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome. I looked at the banner commemorating the 1987 World Championship team and thought, "Man, I missed being here for the one championship they're ever gonna win." 

Fast forward to October 1991. The Twins put together an amazing season, winning the Western division title by eight games over the Chicago White Sox. They dismissed the Eastern division champions from Toronto in five games and prepared to meet the Braves who topped the Pittsburgh Pirates in seven games, including three games which they won by shutout.  

In keeping with the pattern of their appearance against the St. Louis Cardinals in the 1987 series, in which the home team won each of the seven games, the home team won each of the first five games in this one. At the end of game two I received a call on the radio. The person on the other end told me they needed me to go to a suite on the third base side of the ballpark and escort Ted Turner and Jane Fonda through the crowd and out to street level. I did just that. They were extremely cordial, given the fact that their team had just lost the second consecutive game of the World Series. A surreal moment that just happened to fall into my lap to be sure. 

The hometown 9 did not fare well in Atlanta, losing two straight nail-biters and then getting beaten down in game 5 to put the Braves up three games to two. We needed to win game six just to have the opportunity to win the whole thing in seven games. The game was tied after seven innings and remained that way until the bottom of the eleventh. I had made my way down to the area just behind the Braves bullpen. There's a padded fence which can be opened by lifting a pin, about 3 foot long with a curve at the top for easy gripping. I positioned myself right behind that pin as the rest of the fan relations staff along with local law enforcement prepared for the remainder of the game, not knowing how much longer it would continue.  

The leadoff batter in the bottom of the eleventh was Kirby Puckett. Puckett had already made a great catch to rob Ron Gant of a double and a run batted in in the third inning. Charlie Leibrandt came in to pitch for Atlanta and on a 2-1 pitch Puckett hit a high fly ball to left center field. Having been around this game for the vast majority of my life my ears told me immediately that this would be a game-winning homer. I reached down and without looking pulled the pin that opened the padded gate. As the gate slowly opened I had a split-second of panic as I thought "what if it doesn't clear the plexiglas wall?" By not looking back I was unaware if anyone had followed me onto the field or if I would be the only fool running onto the field during game 6 of a World Series. But, luckily, the ball made it to row 5, section 101 and all was good.

I ran to the third base bag as we on the staff had all chosen a place to view the crowd and hear the noise which followed the game-winning hit. I was standing on the third base bag when a grounds crew member nudged me gently and removed the base. The feeling of disbelief was truly amazing. Fans were cheering, hugging, applauding and mouthing the word "Wow!" all over the place. Slowly but surely the ballpark began to empty.  The only thing left was to repeat the feat the next night.

Game 7 brought the pitching matchup of Atlanta's John Smoltz and St. Paul's own Jack Morris. Morris had won a World Series championship in 1984 with the Tigers and would be looking to win his second ring. The game would prove to be everything a true baseball purist like myself could have wanted. During the pregame I was working at the press gate and we once again sacrificed a baseball card by burning it at the turnstiles. I wish I could remember the players who's cards we torched before each game. We slowly started the chant of "Owaah-ta-shmuhh-kiam.  Owaah-ta-shmuhh-kiam. Owaa-tash-muhh-kiam."  Now, if you say it a little faster each time, you will quickly get the joke. We even had a celebrity appearance by actor Charlie Sheen at the gate.

Around about the bottom of the eighth inning I was making my way down to the same area I had been in for the end of game 6. I was standing at the top of the section directly behind home plate when the Twins completed the 3-2-3 double play to get out of a huge jam in the top of the inning. Downing the right field tunnel area we tried our best to be in exactly the same places as we had been roughly 24 hours earlier in an attempt to satisfy our baseball superstition and bring a win and a championship to the Twins. 

My nerves were such that I was unable to watch the Braves batters, so I turned away and listened to the crowd's reaction to the events on the field to know what was going on. I was okay watching the Twins hit in the eighth and ninth. In the tenth Dan Gladden led off with a broken-bat double. It was at that point that I got the thought that this would be the last inning of baseball in 1991. Atlanta intentionally walked both Kirby Puckett and Kent Hrbek in order to pitch to (and this is the answer to one of my favorite Twins trivia questions) Jarvis Brown. Many fans forget that Brown had pinch-run for Chili Davis, who was the designated hitter, one inning earlier. Tom Kelly went to his bench again for Gene Larkin. Larkin came to the plate with Alejandro Pena on the mound for the Braves. Larkin was not in the best of health with a slight leg injury, so a clean base hit or a sacrifice fly would be what he was looking for. The Braves were no doubt looking for a ground ball which might allow them to cut down the lead runner at home and possibly turn a double play of their own. 

But at 11:01, on the first pitch Alejandro Pena threw, Larkin lifted a fly ball over the drawn-in outfield and when the ball landed on the turf the Twins were champions of the baseball world "for the second time in five years" as Twins announcer Herb Carneal was saying on the radio. I quickly pulled the pin on the gate, opened the door and sprinted out onto the astroturf, head down and moving quickly toward the third base bag which Dan Gladden had tagged up from less than a minute earlier.  En route I glanced up just as I was getting to the line which simulates the infield from the outfield. It was at this moment that I came within 6-8 inches from just running over Atlanta second baseman Mark Lemke who had his head down in dejection and never saw me. Talk about adding insult to injury, right?

I took my place on top of third base and listened to the crowd which, amazingly, was even louder than the night before. You literally could not hear yourself think, and it was a great sensation.  

We were on the field for about 30 minutes or so. After leaving the field I made my way through various parts of the stadium. I remember walking past the door of the office which would become my own office some 5 1/2 years in the future. I also encountered front office personnel who would become my future co-workers in various levels of happiness. I ran into team president Jerry Bell who had a bottle of champagne in one hand a huge cigar in his mouth. Jerry gave me a big hug for no other reason than I was the only person nearby whom he hadn't given one to yet.  Many of them were carrying champagne bottles and lit cigars. I walked outside to the scoreboard sign which stood at the corner of 5th and Chicago Avenues and there was a guy who was running into it at full speed and slamming his body into the side of it. I guess he was hoping to hit it hard enough to knock out some of the lights on it.  A few minutes later though he was successful in his quest. He hit the side of this metal storage area and the lights on the smaller dot matrix board went completely dark. It was misting by this time and the crowd, some of whom had tried to actually climb the light poles, applauded in appreciation of the effort. 

I went back inside and I was standing at the top of a stairwell in the concourse near gate D at about 2 am when the players started to make their way to the parking lot.  The first player up the stairs was Gene Larkin, who had delivered the game-winning hit. I said to him, "Does it feel real yet?" His  reply was, "Rod, NOTHING feels real right now!" I shook his hand and sent him out to the damp, loud and adoring fans in the parking lot.

I actually ran into Gene Larkin about a year ago at the airport while I was at work. We greeted each other with about the same enthusiasm as we did after game 7 in 1991. He still recalls that feeling and so do I. 

I got into my 1989 Hyundai Excel, rolled the windows down an opened up the sunroof to attempt to clear out some to the champagne and cigar smell which had permeated my uniform. Nearly every local FM station was playing "We Are The Champions" by Queen and it was blaring on the stereo.

I arrived home to find the newspaper waiting in front of my garage door. I got out of the car and opened it up. The headline confirmed that what I had just experienced had indeed happened. My wife Bryn was waiting upstairs as I entered my townhome. She said, What's that smell?" I told her it was the smell of a word championship. She asked me kindly to go down and change into something less odiferous. Keeping in mind that we'd been married just 15 days, I thought, "Don't screw this up already." and so I did just that. It must've worked because that marriage  lasted some 30 more years.

It is referred to by many as the greatest World Series ever, I might have to agree.  
The dateline on the Star Tribune was Monday, October 28, 1991. It was now my 30th birthday.

Not a bad gift for this lifetime baseball fan. Not a bad gift at all.


I'm just sayin

The Vampires and Me

Okay, there aren't any vampires in this story.  But there IS blood.  Now that I have your attention......

     I donated blood yesterday. It wasn't any different from the numerous times I had done it in the past.  But it was significant in one sense.  It marked my 120th donation in the state of Minnesota.  With that, I picked up my "15-Gallon Club" pin with Memorial Blood Centers.  I had gotten a call last week from MBC.  I knew it was them because in my contacts list I have them listed as "Dr. Acula".  (Not original with me- I lifted it from an episode of "Scrubs").  

I say Minnesota donations because I actually donated one gallon during my time as a resident of the state of Florida. But like a few, not all mind you, things that I did in the Sunshine State, I look into my rear view mirror only when necessary or when it brings back pleasant memories. So, physically, I have had sixteen gallons drained from my veins in my lifetime.

For those of you who are regulars at the donation process, I thank you on behalf of those who have been helped by your time investment and willingness to do so.  For those of you who have never donated I would like to take this moment to berate you for not having done so......but I won't. I realize that some of you may be limited in your own physical ability to do so. For those of you who fall into that category, you get a pass. Otherwise, your excuses are not worth all that much.

I know that some of you may be needle-phobic. I admit that even I can't watch the needle go into my arm during the process. Heck, the finger prick is not enjoyable to me either. When I first started donating they would bring out this little rubber band-powered contraption which would act like a miniature machete and you would take your chances that you didn't draw back a nub before you got back in your car for the drive home. That system is far more advanced today to the point now where even though I don't enjoy it, I no longer fear the existence of my middle fingertip on my left hand.

The process, which takes approximately one hour, is pretty smooth. I often go in on a walk-in basis, but they are always glad to see me nonetheless. I walk in, sign the register and have a seat. They hand me the customary reading materials, which don't change very often. They basically ask if you've been to certain countries over the last ten years or so, and they update the materials as necessary. The newest update has to do with the covid-19. Then you see the technician who takes your blood pressure, pulse and temperature. You answer a battery of questions about your current and former health status, about 40 questions, and then you head out to lay on one of the contoured chair/recliners for the actual donation. These questions can also be answered online prior to your arrival at the blood center.

Next, another technician continues the donation by asking you to state your full name once again. It's kinda odd when you are not used to stating it on a regular basis. I will sometimes ask, when I sense that my tech has a glimmer of a sense of humor, "What did you do with the last pint I gave you? Lose it in a card game?"

At some point in our lives all of us or someone we care about will need blood for one reason or another.  I have been lucky enough to have not needed any under those circumstances, but I have family and loved ones who have needed some.  My mother nearly bled to death in her late 40s because of a sesame seed puncturing her intestine. The donated blood that was on-hand at the hospital was the only thing that kept me from losing my mother while I was in high school. It was then that I realized how important blood was in an emergency situation.  My late wife Bryn on occasion would need blood for her different operations. Science and technology have yet to produce a replacement fluid and probably never will.

It is an amazing feeling to walk out of the MBC with a sense that in the near future what you just did is going to allow someone you will never meet to possibly do more in their life. Hold a loved one, go to a ballgame, cuddle with their dogs, visit grandma, catch the latest episode of Big Brother, who knows? (I don't watch that program, but I just wonder who this Vito person is, why does he have the power that everyone wants yet I've never seen him? What's up with that?)  But just knowing that I may have helped make that possible in some small way is a very cool feeling. Bryn was always very proud of me for donating as often as I do. She felt badly that she couldn't participate herself given her health issues, but she always told me that she felt it was a great way to give back. Even though she has passed I know that she encourages me to continue the donations as often as I am allowed to do so.

I have also been enrolled in the Sickle Cell program for about 20 years now.  Sickle Cell disease is a blood disorder that effects about 1 of every 500 African Americans.  I was actually matched up with a set of twins brothers back in the late 90s so I only donated when I was called in.  It meant that my blood would be used for their frequent blood transfusions.  I stopped getting calls after about two years, so I hope that it was because the boys no longer needed my blood and that they were getting along just fine without it.

The minimum time between whole blood donations is about every 56 days or so. 

So this blog isn't so much about MY accomplishment as it is to let you know that YOU TOO have the ability to accomplish a similar thing and get the same feeling that I do every couple of months.

There are plenty of mobile donation vehicles which can be found throughout your city.  I implore you to check it out and be a part of something that you make you feel better on the inside. Given the times that we are currently going through, the need for blood is higher than it has ever been. I've also started donating platelets which are also in high demand during the pandemic. So even if YOU or some close to you hasn’t had the need for this precious fluid, someone you know just might need some in the near future. If we've all learned anything through all of this is that we’re all now familiar with how incredibly uncertain life can be. 

One of my mother's favorite quotes to me was, "Leave more behind than you take in life".  

This is just one of the ways I try to do that.  Why else are we HERE, anyway?

.....I'm just sayin'

Harmon Killebrew

May 16, 2021 marked the tenth anniversary of the passing of the one of the finest human beings I have ever known, one Harmon Clayton Killebrew.  I first learned of Harmon Killebrew while watching him play for the Minnesota Twins in the 1970 American League Championship Series against the Baltimore Orioles.  The New York Mets had not qualified for the playoffs and thus I didn't really care all that much about who made the World Series. I sensed that the Twins were definite underdogs to the Orioles who were loaded with talent from top to bottom and I liked that aspect of their game.  

As a kid I had learned what the logo of each team looked like as I would see them on the baseball cards which I collected for many years.  I knew them all upon immediate sight except for one.  What was with the interlocking T and C?  How did they get "Minnesota" from that?  But I followed the instructions and eventually came to recognize it without hesitation after a short period of time.  I could never have imagined that I would actually be in the employ of said organization and only 21 years later I would find myself on the field celebrating a world championship wearing that exact TC logo on my head.  

Life is like that, I guess.

Fast forward to 2001.  

I had the chance to go on the Minnesota Twins Winter Caravan.  On January 14th I set forth in a new Dodge Caravan for Winnipeg in a snowstorm that intensified as I drove further north.  Before the drive I was kinda bummed in that the NFC Championship game was being played that day.  One of the participants was my favorite team, the Minnesota Vikings.  They were on the road in New York against the Giants in the game which would decide one participant in the Super Bowl, against either the Ravens or the Raiders.

Well, the Vikings were trailing 34-0 at the half, so the decision to hit I-35 earlier than planned was a virtual "no-brainer".  I was to meet the Twins group at a restaurant in Winnipeg the following morning but the road conditions were such that I decided to stop for the night at the Super 8 in a little town called Hallock.  

After a good night's sleep I made my way into Winnipeg and met up with the group.  The active players on this leg of Caravan were local hero Corey Koskie and AJ Pierzynski.  Also along with us were television play-by-play man Dick Bremer and Twins legend Harmon Killebrew.  I hadn't had the pleasure of spending much time with Harmon to this point but he soon had me as a huge fan just from his incredible kindness towards others and his humble personality about who he was to so many upper midwesterners.  

After the restaurant appearance which kicked off the week's activities we moved to a school which third baseman Corey Koskie had attended as a younger man.  Following the school visit we were scheduled to be at our hotel for a dinner where all involved would participate in a Q&A.  This is where I made my first appearance of the trip in my appointed role.  

My role?  Oh yeah, I hadn't filled you in on that yet.  You see, I was T.C. Bear.  Now, those who already knew this are merely nodding your heads.  Those of you who did NOT know this are rubbing your eyes and re-reading that sentence.  But it is true.  I was T.C. Bear.  Cheerful, fun-loving, power-hitting bear from the land of 10,000 lakes.  (12,000 is more accurate, but I digress).  I entered the lobby near the banquet room and met Goldy, the Winnipeg Goldyeye.  The Goldyeyes are a professional baseball team who played in the Northern League at the time and are now in the American Association.  A goldeye is actually a fish.  Goldy and I, both in full costume, met and for the first time and without being able to exchange greetings verbally worked our ways into a card game which we played WITHOUT ANY CARDS.  When it was time for the dinner to begin we both got up from the floor and made our way to the elevator where we revealed our true identities.  Turns out Goldy Goldeye was actually Justin Timberlake.

No, that's not true.  Not true at all.

The next morning we all arose to head toward the border.  In my car were Dick Bremer and Harmon himself.  We arrived at the U.S. border around 11 a.m. or so.  When I rolled the window down the agent asked where we were going and who was in the car along with me.  When I mentioned the name Harmon Killebrew, he sprung to attentiveness and said, "Really?".  I leaned forward and turned to Harmon and told him to say hello.  Harmon leans forward and graciously says, "Hi there".  The agent is now speechless.  His day had been made and he would have stories to tell his fellow agents for weeks to come. He probably talks about it to this day.

Life is like that, I guess.

My "down time" with Harmon was  so cool.  Humble to a fault and incredibly gracious he was as kind to everyone he encountered as anyone I've ever seen.  I remember saying to him, "You're the Major League Baseball logo aren't you?" He told me that it wasn't him and I rolled my eyes in mild disbelief. I told him that everyone knows that the NBA logo is Jerry West and he's the MLB guy.  Harmon says supposedly a designer came up with it but that he saw a photo of himself in the MLB offices around the time it was released in the late 1960s.  He actually IS the model for the MLB Players Association Alumni.  

Through the week we made numerous stops on our trek back toward the twin cities.  Stops in places like Thief River Falls and the mining town of Iron Mountain were on the agenda for the next couple of days.  It was sufficiently cold to where being in a bear suit was a very advantageous.  Mid-week Dick Bremer returned to the cities and was replaced by Jim Cunningham.  I hadn't spent much time around Jim prior to the trip but he is also a class act.  An incredibly loving father and husband who I am so lucky to have met and to this day I value his friendship.  

With our final night of Caravan behind us we were on our way south and hungry. I had the luck to be in the Dodge Caravan with AJ Pierzynski, Jim Cunningham and Harmon himself. We decided upon Tobies's Restaurant in Hinckley.  Not having grown up in the Minnesota I was unaware of the legendary status that Tobie's held, but it was our choice for the evening.  The four of us found a table and we chatted about the week that had just passed and the game of baseball in general.  Dozens of patrons looked at our table and wondered if it really was Harmon in the flesh.  I just nodded and slowly and sheepishly people stopped by and chatted and got the occasional autograph, which Harmon signed graciously.

On our drive home we discussed many things about the game, but most of the time was spent discussing superstitions on and off the field.  While I don't believe Harmon had many, AJ has a litany of them, which we all chuckled at.  

Over time I grew to appreciate my time with Harmon more and more, especially after I left the Twins organization only 12 months later, just prior to the 2002 Caravan began.  

I feel incredibly fortunate to have known Harmon as much as I did.  The photo which appeared on my Facebook page on the 5th anniversary of his passing was actually taken by one of our season ticket holders and I never even knew of its existence for weeks when I received it in the mail at the ballpark.  It is one of my all-time favorite photos of my collection.  

Sometimes it's all about timing.  

Life is like that, I guess.

.......I'm just sayin'.

Kirby and Me

Kirby Puckett would have been 63 years old today. I was fortunate enough to become a personal friend of the man himself. I think about his homer in game 6 of the 1991 World Series. I was actually on the field, literally, when the ball cleared the fence. I was working on the security team during the series and was the person closest to the door opening behind the Atlanta bullpen. The sound of the ball off the bat told me all I needed to know as I pulled up the door pin and hit the field in full stride. One split second of "what if it doesn't clear the plexiglass?" ran through my mind, but I need not have worried. The cacophony of sound following that hit and the end of game 7 still rings faintly in my ears from time to time. It was an amazing experience. One which I could never have dreamt of as a kid growing up and loving the greatest game ever invented.

My career with the Minnesota Twins, in the front office, began in February of 1996. This followed my having start as an usher in 1989 and topping out as a supervisor in the 1992-95 seasons. The team was four seasons removed from their second world series championship. But hopes were were high as the team looked forward with newly-arrived hometown hero Paul Molitor joining the lineup along with Kirby.  We'd struck gold with St. Paul's Jack Morris returning home for one season in 1991, so why not have it happen again? We were also debuting a new red home jersey. A short-lived fashion statement which went the way of the dodo after the team lost nearly every game in which they wore them and ESPN often referred to them as "the Dairy Queen uniforms".

  

Kirby had been hit in the jaw by a pitch delivered by Cleveland's Dennis Martinez on September 28th of the 1995 season. I remember the moment well. I was standing at the top row if section 102 in the center field seats when he was hit. It was already pretty quiet in the dome as it was the final weekday afternoon game of the season and was not well-attended. But it got even quieter when he hit the ground after being hit. Throughout the offseason there was not much to worry about to be sure. He even batted .344 in the Grapefruit League spring training games in the March of 1996.  But then, darkness fell. Literally.

On March 28th Kirby awoke without the ability to see out if his right eye.  He was diagnosed with glaucoma and was placed on the disabled list for the first time in his career. Three different surgeries over the next few months could not restore vision in the eye.

Each day we in the front office hoped that the leader of our team would be able to come back to the lineup. But as time went on our optimism began to wane. 

On the afternoon of Friday, July 12th, while seated in my office I learned of a press conference which would take place wherein Kirby was going to announce his retirement. Our opponents that night, oddly enough, were the Cleveland Indians. I remember the sad walk that we all took down to the meeting room located just off the loading dock at the Metrodome that afternoon. It was like walking to a funeral. Everyone in the front office was in attendance, as well as many of the players. Kirby tried to make light of it, but we all knew that we were witnessing one of the saddest moments in Minnesota sports history.

Kirby then took a job as an executive vice-president for the team. This is when I got to know the man who meant so much to the state of Minnesota. We'd only chatted in passing from time to time up to that point. I was the office services coordinator at the time, a position which had a number of duties which included designing the team's business cards, letterhead and envelopes to be used in day-to-day operations. My duties also included delivering the daily mail to all of the front office personnel. I would deliver large quantities of items of Kirby's office on a daily basis. Most of them were requests for autographs and the like.  

Many were the days that I would walk into his office and he would be signing various items from fans and would usually be on his phone when I did. If he wasn't on the phone our conversation would start by me entering the office, raising my hand and saying, "No, don't get up." and he would laugh at that nearly every time it happened. "I'm not gettin' up for you, man!", would be his usual rebuttal. 

One thing he taught me was one of the long-winded handshakes that he and some of his teammates would perform in celebration of something good on the field. I have passed it onto a number of people including  one co-worker with whom I share a "shake" the first time we see each other on a given day. We've been doing it for years and he's even taught it to his daughter. 

One thing Kirby loved was bowling. He was quite a good bowler at that. I figured that only having eyesight in one eye would make keggling difficult, but he made it look easy. I asked him how he could average 220 or so with just one eye. We all tried simulating it and failed miserably. He said, “Well, I’m just a natural athlete”. Which caused us all to laugh uproariously. I told him he was 5’8” and 225 pounds, so just stop with that talk. He called me one morning in February 1998 and invited me to join him when he went to buy a new bowling ball at an alley in St. Paul. He needed a new ball before he took off to Ft. Myers, Florida and spring training.The bowling competition on the coaching staff was intense. Most notably with Ron Gardenhire with whom sharing an alley is an absolute comedy treat. So we hopped into his Chevy Suburban (he always loved a big ol' new Chevy Suburban) and made our way to St. Paul. I do not recall the name of the bowling center, but we entered the pro shop and he got fitted for a new ball. The pro shop owner drilled his new ball for him and I thought we were ready to get out and on the road again.  But he paused and looked at me. "I've seen that piece of crap ball you roll, Hot Rod. Let me get you a real ball, son!" So he asked the salesman to find something for me, get it fitted to my hand and drill it while we waited.  

I got my new bowling ball in a few minutes, and once again assumed that we were on our way out the door. But now he insisted that we try out our new acquisitions on an alley. Luckily, lanes 1 and 2 were available and the owner lit them up for us to use. As we got ready to square off in a game against each other we noticed a gentleman on the next lane over wearing a UPS uniform. Kirby invited the guy over to join us in our game.  The look on his face, when realizing who it was, was priceless. His name was Scott and he was on his lunch break. The three of us rolled three games each and then we went finally departed the bowling center. Somehow I won two of those games and still have the scoresheet to this day. Puck and I speculated about how our guest was going to explain his lunch hour spent bowling with Minnesota's most famous athlete and some other guy. Keep in mind that this event predates cell phones, so he wasn't able to take a picture to verify his story to his co-workers.   

We hit I-94 on the way back to the dome at a fast rate of speed. He was tailgating the heck out of what I referred to as a two-door Subaru Snirk and I asked him to slow down a bit. He asked me why I was so worried about his driving. At first I said, "Look, man, you've only got one working eye, pal." He laughed hysterically at that. I also told him that no one remembers the name of the guy who died next to Billy Martin when he crashed in his fatal accident. I told him that I just didn't want to become the question to a Jeopardy answer.

He was always great about introducing me to fellow players who were friends of his. He'd call me in my office and say come up and meet whomever was in town that day. Players like Jim Rice, and Eddie Murray  would be there and I got to meet them and get autographed balls at the same time. He introduced me to Cal Ripken, Jr. while at his annual 8-ball pool tournament for charity. Cal has such a great memory that on the night he got his 3,000th hit at the Metrodome he not only remembered my name and where we'd met but we talked for about 30 minutes outside the visiting locker room after the game and on the walk to street level where he caught a cab to meet up with his family. (That whole story is in a different blog entry which will show up on Facebook in early April). So he was often very generous to me in giving me great moments to share after his playing days were over.

I asked him about his ability to deliver in the clutch situations over is illustrious career. He said that sometimes before he’d head to the plate he’d remember what the Cowardly Lion said and he’d imitate him by telling himself to have “c-c-c-c-courage”. 

Kirby and I did have some serious talks too.

One thing he told me was that in life one needs to make a "life roster". What he meant was that you need to have people in your life who have your best interest in mind when you deal with them. To remember that there will always be people who merely want to take from you and not give back anything in return. He said there was no need to call these people and tell that they no longer have a prominent place in your life.  Simply let those relationships fade away. Those people will go on to take away from others, but not you. Get to the point where you don't have to think about answering your phone because you don't want to talk to someone. And even if some of the people whom you send off to "free agency" are members of your family, so be it. Those were draft choices that you didn't make in the first place, fate did. It's amazing how much I have used that since he told me and how many people I've passed this philosophy on to. He also told me that "tomorrow isn't promised to any of us" on more than one occasion. How right he was.

One of our most laugh-filled mornings was shortly after his appearance on "The Late Show with David Letterman" in May of 1997. For the next couple of weeks I would refer to him by some of the names which appeared in the Top Ten list which he read on the show that consisted of mispronunciations of his name. My favorites were Koobey Pickett, Creepy Pockets, The Puckett Formerly Known As Kirby and the ever-popular Turkey Bucket.  Every day I would change it up just to see his reaction.  I think Turkey Bucket got the best reaction. I know the switchboard phone changed his name for a short time to Turkey Bucket.  

One day we somehow got onto the subject of mortality. There was a copy of a magazine which was delivered to him. I believe it was Vanity Fair, but the main cover story was "101 Things To Do Before You Die". He told me, more than once, that he didn't expect to live past age 50, as many males in his family passed away short of that number.  He unfortunately predicted that one correctly as he passed away just days shy of his 46th birthday.  

On the day he passed in Scottsdale, AZ in March 2006 I was bowling in a Tuesday night league in Lakeville, Minnesota. My teammates and I were watching ESPN on the television above our lane while they discussed his passing. That night I was actually using that same ball which he had purchased for me back in 1998. A surreal moment to be sure. That ball still occupies a spot in my bowling bag to this day.

I was an attendee at his private memorial in Wayzata. As I looked around the church it was like a who's who of Major League baseball and Minnesota sports. I chatted with the likes of Cal Ripken, Jr., Harmon Killebrew, Eddie Murray and Dave Winfield. Seated directly behind me were Bob Costas and Kevin Garnett. I was in the line to walk up to the casket and when I reached it I looked down and said, "No, don't get up." I had a bit of a smile on my face when I looked at A.J. Pierzynski who was standing behind me. He said, "A good memory?", he asked. I nodded in the affirmative and moved on to my seat. 

I'd instantly heard his infectious laugh while standing there.  I miss that laugh. And if you knew him, I know you do too.  

Thanks, K.P.

I'm just sayin'.