| Dear Kirby,
When you get around to reading this, you'll be in a better place than the rest of us who mourn your death will be. We wanted you to stick around a bit longer. I think a lot of always held out hope that the clouds that surrounded your post-Metrodome life would somehow magically disappear. But you laid low in Arizona, away from the hassles and the press. I can't say I blame you. What you did, what you didn't do... I don't know. Nobody really does except for you.
I do know a few things, though, because you were gracious enough to let me into your life for a little peek.
Do you remember the first day you brought Catherine to school? I was a couple of people behind you in line to get some forms and my boy wanted to meet you. I told him quietly that you were just there to be Catherine's dad and that we should just let you be. He had other ideas and went up to you and shook your hand and introduced himself. You acted like you'd known him all his young life and it was the start of his hero worship for you.
I remember the time you came to school again for some function and we were both sitting outside watching the kids play during recess. We talked about a lot of stuff, baseball and growing up in Chicago and New York. Remember what you told me about going to Puerto Rico and playing softball? How you could hit a softball further than a baseball. I said "Hey, some of those fast pitch pitchers are pretty quick, man". "You looked at me and said in your trademark "I'll tell you what..." preface you'd always start your sentences when you really, really meant something. "...you put that pitcher 60 feet, six inches away and I'm taking that ball for a ride." I laughed because I loved the confidence you had. That confidece was always real. I loved that about you.
Then there was the time Catherine asked my boy to celebrate her birthday with her at Camp Snoopy at the Mall of America. I think I met your whole family or actually it was mostly Tonya's because she was from here. It was like jumping back about thirty years because of how old fashioned the setting was. The kids were all jumping around and playing and all the parents were sitting in chairs conversing but always facing the kids, making sure everything was okay and no one was getting hurt. Your kids were number one with you and I loved that about you, too.
Your post Metrodome life had started and there was a lot of crap. I'm sorry about that, I really am. You grew up in what became a notorious housing project, Cabrini Green. I grew up in a housing project, too. I guess you can make it out of those places, yeah? I think you liked that about me, too. That we were both a couple of kids that wreren't supposed to amount to much but we did. So, you were used to dealing with crap. This got to be too much and that's when you left Dodge.
I kept informed by asking some of the other Twins that had also retired about you. They always said you were okay but that you missed your kids but you couldn't see them anyway and that's why you left. I was sad to hear that. But you know what? With all the crap, my son still thought the world of you. He still does. You and he had a little something special and he loved seeing you at school. That book you aytographed and gave him? He still loves that. The ball too. It's in a special display case and it means a bit more than it did, I'm sorry to say.
I was never happier for you than when you hit that shot in the 6th game of the series. Everything changed for you that day. It's like you used that bat to sign your name into a special baseball museum forever, man. THE museum. Hall of Fame. You worked for that all your life and you got in. The kid from Cabrini Green, the basketball star, the spelling champ got in to the hall of Friggin' Fame, bro. Damn, I was happy for you that day!
I'll see you again one day and maybe you can tell me what it felt like to hit that thing and give 54,000 people hope with one swing of that bat. I'll miss you 'til then, Puck. I really will.
ML |