Kirby Puckett's Legacy

Posted: 03/07/2006 - by

Kirby Puckett By Ken Rosenthal, senior baseball writer for FOXSports.com.

A good friend of mine, a colleague I greatly respect, insists that we — the Baseball Writers Association of America — blew it by electing Kirby Puckett to the Hall of Fame on the first ballot in 2001.

Over the years, I've grown to understand my friend's position, if not completely agree with it. But as I write this after Puckett's passing Monday night, smiling at all my warm memories of him, I feel once more, with conviction, that the BBWAA made the right call.

 

I was on the phone Monday with a former Twins player, and he explained to me that Puckett wasn't simply a great teammate, but the best teammate. Always positive. A true leader. Great with veterans. Great with youngsters.

That's the Kirby Puckett who will be remembered, the Kirby Puckett who should be remembered, at least for those of us who knew him only as a baseball player. After he retired, it became evident that the man did not necessarily match the image, as is so often the case with celebrities. But as a ballplayer, my goodness, Puckett was something to behold.

"Kir-beeeeee, PUCK-it!" — that's how the Twins' late public address announcer, Bob Casey, would introduce him, and Puckett's determined walk to the plate always got the Metrodome stirring. No player was built like Puckett, a 5-foot-9 weeble. Few radiated such energy and joy. Kids absolutely loved him. He was one of them, or so it seemed.

Puckett made 10 straight All-Star teams. Won six Gold Gloves in center field. Led the Twins to two improbable World Series titles. How can such a player not be in the Hall of Fame? Well, my friend's argument is that Puckett's career numbers — 2,304 hits, 207 homers, 1,085 RBIs — fell short of Cooperstown standards.

Glaucoma ended Puckett's career at age 34; otherwise, he surely would have reached 3,000 hits. Yet, as my friend points out, it's a slippery slope to project what might have been. Don Mattingly had nearly identical numbers to Puckett. His career ended prematurely due to injuries. What about him? What about all the other great players who met similar fates? My friend's argument is not unreasonable. But in the end, it misses the point.

Some players, well, they just transcend rational analysis. Puckett was one, and lest anyone forget, he had the most hits of any 20th-century player in the first 10 calendar years of his career. The Hall instructs voters to consider a player's character, sportsmanship and integrity. Those criteria, too, form a slippery slope, leaving room for subjectivity. Would a player with Puckett's career stats but a less engaging personality received the same support? Maybe not. But Puckett is a baseball immortal not just for his playing ability, but for the vibe he created in the park, for what he meant to his teams.

Two personal memories stand out. The first occurred early during the 1996 season, after Puckett had been diagnosed with glaucoma in his right eye, but before he announced his retirement. I was working for The Baltimore Sun at the time, and the Orioles were visiting the Twins. Another reporter and I approached Puckett in the Twins' clubhouse, somewhat nervous about talking to him about the likely end of his career.

Not to worry; Puckett was his usual jovial self.

"What," he asked, "do you want with the one-eyed jack?"

We all laughed, and Puckett spoke much as he did when he made his retirement announcement a few months later, saying that no one should feel sorry for him, that he had enjoyed a terrific career. The interview did not go uninterrupted, of course. Puckett, true to form, would pause to playfully insult any teammates who passed in front of his locker.

The other memory is from perhaps Puckett's greatest moment, his 11th-inning homer off Charlie Leibrandt in Game 6 of the 1991 World Series. I covered the Series for the now-defunct Baltimore Evening Sun, a paper that did not publish on weekends. I returned home the day after Game 5, a Friday, with the Twins trailing three games to two. The thinking was this: If the Series ended Saturday, it would be old news by Monday. But if the Twins won Saturday to force a Game 7, I would fly to Minnesota on Sunday morning to cover the deciding game.

Well, you know the rest. I was lying in bed watching television when Puckett hit his home run, prompting the memorable call from the late Jack Buck: "See you tomorrow night!" I couldn't wait to get up the next day and hop on that plane. The '91 Series was the best I have covered. Game 7 — Jack Morris' 10-inning shutout to defeat a 24-year-old John Smoltz, 1-0 — turned out to be the best game I have seen.

I remember sitting in bed, shaking my head at what Puckett had done, chuckling to myself as my wife and 5-month-old son remained asleep.

That was Puck. He always left you smiling.

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