By Don Jacobson
As a Minnesotan, a lifelong Twins fan, and a former sportswriter who had the great privilege of covering the Twins in their 1991 World Championship season, I can tell you one thing: We may never see another Kirby Puckett in our lifetimes. Not in baseball or in any other sport.
He lived life hard–so hard it was like he was operating at a different level than anyone else. The energy just flew off him. Your eyes were drawn to him even in a crowded, noisy locker room. But it was a positive energy, unlike so many other intense pro athletes I have encountered. Kirby Puckett was an elite super-athlete who had a special something that enabled him to never succumb to the immense pressure of stardom and turn into an asshole. And I loved him for that.
And if reserved, cerebral Minnesotans have ever dared to give it up completely, get down on their knees and worship somebody, they did it for Kirby. It doesn’t happen often here. We’re just not the types to let ourselves go like that. Might look foolish. Garrison Keillor is more “Minnesota” than Kirby (who grew up in a Chicago housing project) ever was, with his prickly intellectual wit and his obvious passive-aggressive streak. But then Puckett came along and he had us from the start. He was the exact opposite of us–loud, confident, constantly chattering, constantly needling, poking fun, laughing hard, wearing his emotions on his sleeve. And we loved him for that.
Minnesota has never been a baseball hotbed, but Puckett, through the sheer force of his bat and his personality, almost singlehandedly revived the state’s interest in a Twins franchise that in the 1980s was headed for the ash heap of baseball history. It was quite an accomplishment. Even though he led the Twins to two World Series wins, people here were always more interested in him as a person than in the game he played. This, I think, is demonstrated by the fact that the team has never been able to convince the community that it’s worth building a new ballpark to keep them here. We are not a baseball-hungry people here. But we were Kirby-hungry. We couldn’t get enough of him.
Kids loved him because he was like a big teddy bear. Parents loved him because he was respectful and stayed out of trouble. Baseball fans loved him because he played the game with total abandon–he changed from a singles hitter into the most clutch power hitter the Twins have ever seen, and played the outfield like a dream. He was a force in the clubhouse, a joker who provided much-needed relief from a sourpuss manager, Tom Kelly. Kirby was the guy who made sure the younger players were integrated into the team. He was everything to the Twins, and hence to Twins fans.
Much has been made of his bubbling personality, his mile-a-minute patter. But it’s justified. Every time I knew I would have to get a quote from Kirby, I’d make sure to bring the tape recorder because there would be no way I could write fast enough to keep up with him. Or to keep from laughing and missing jotting down the key words. I can’t tell you how rare it was for me to actually look forward to interviewing baseball stars, who are generally a mighty surly bunch, especially after a loss. But not Puck. Win or lose, he was up. He was Mr. Personality. He treated you like a person, even if you were a lowly media jackal.
When we later found out that he was indeed human, that he had emotional and sexual problems, it was a profound shock, even though there had been warning signs along the way. It was confirmed that Kirby had his victims and we recoiled. Our feelings became more complicated. But still, we couldn’t write him off because he was also a victim himself–of poor health, and, ultimately, of fate. He was also a victim of our worship; his decision to stay away from the team in his final years was a tragedy which I think was based on his disappointment in himself for not living up to his impossible legend.
What I don’t think he understood was that even though his transgressions were serious, they weren’t enough to erase all the love we had built up for him. We were ready to forgive. I get the feeling he couldn’t forgive himself.
– Originally posted March 6, 2006
Posted on March 9, 2006