As I pulled into my parking spot at the college yesterday, my phone buzzed with a new text message. Since I was getting into teaching mode, I reacted a bit perturbed with the interruption, until I read the sad news: Hall of Fame centerfielder Kirby Puckett had passed.
Immediately, my thoughts went back, not to the 1991 or 1987 World Series, but to the first half of the 1986 season, and a race that held the interest of baseball fans everywhere. I at the time, as a soon-to-be fifteen-year-old, spent the first three months of the season in Wally World, the fast-growing fan base of California Angels rookie first baseman Wally Joyner. During those months, Joyner, along with Oakland A’s rookie right fielder Jose Canseco and Minnesota Twins third-year centerfielder Kirby Puckett, held the attention of all of baseball, with a spectacular home run race. By the break, not only had all three made the American League All-Star Team, but Joyner was leading the bigs in homers, and was the first rookie elected to start an All-Star Game.
I can hardly believe that was twenty years ago. Of course, we all know of the black mark that Canseco left on baseball with his tell-all steroids book. Joyner, after leaving the Angels following the 1991 season, never regained his offensive form which made him an All-Star in his rookie year. Recently, Joyner admitted to briefly taking steroids for a two-week period in 1998.
As for Kirby Puckett, he went on to be a 10-time All-Star, 6-time Gold Glover, bat a career .318, and win a batting title and two World Series rings to boot. In his 12-year career, cut tragically short by glaucoma, Puckett became the Twins’ all-time leader in hits, doubles, total bases, at-bats, and runs. Described by one sports writer as “a lovable bowling ball of a centerfielder,” Puckett was a hero to many, including this die-hard Angels fan.
During his playing days, Kirby Puckett was built much like myself today–short and stocky, albeit an inch-and-a-half taller than me. In the days before David Eckstein, he made me believe that a little pudgy guy could play centerfield–that a guy like me could make a difference on the field. Kirby always had a smile on his face, and you always knew that he loved playing the game. He had the respect and admiration of teammates and competitors alike. His brand of play elevated that of everyone around him. I find it hard to believe that any true baseball fan could dislike Kirby Puckett.
Concern over Puckett’s health in later years grew as his weight increased. His stroke, and subsequent passing at the young age of 45 served as a wake-up call to me. In reading many of the recent news stories regarding Kirby, I came to the harsh realization that from a health standpoint, I have been headed down the same path that he had travelled. You see, I am currently at the same age that Kirby was when he retired from baseball. Moments after reading the news of Kirby’s death, I made the decision to discard the remainder of my Filet O’Fish sandwich. I have since made the commitment to make healthier choices with my food as well as to exercise regularly. I feel that I can no longer put off getting in shape–my life depends on it.
The game of baseball has lost one of it’s all-time greats. For as much as Puckett accomplished statistically on the field, I feel the greater measure of the man is how he is regarded by his fellow baseball players. In the way he played the game of baseball, Kirby Puckett taught me about how to live life; in his death, he gave me insight into how to sustain it.
I never had the pleasure of meeting you, Kirby, but I am honored and privileged to have had the opportunity to see you play. You will be missed.
