Death of a Childhood Hero

As children, we all had our heroes, the people we wanted to be when we grew up. When I was young, I was in love with baseball. I remember being so angry with my mom when she wouldn't let me stay up and watch game 6 of the 1991 World Series (I was even angrier the day after when I found out they won).

Growing up in the Twin Cities, there was one person who epitomized everything I loved about the game: great talent, a friendly face, heroic moments, and a genuine love of the game. When Kirby Puckett turned down more money from the Boston Red Sox in 1992 to re-sign with the Twins, my friend Andy and I went running down the streets hooting and hollering because our favorite player was staying on our team.

When famous people die, we often hear the news and say "aw, that's too bad." Two minutes later, our thoughts are drawn elsewhere. Because we didn't know the person, it didn't really matter. In this case it's different...yes I know, he was just a baseball player, but he was someone I looked up to.




















Kirby Puckett: 1960-2006