Touch 'em all, Kirby Puckett!

He gave me hope. He showed me that you don't have to be a cookie cutter of everyone else to excel. He lead by example, and was always an ambassador of the game.

I've been a Twins fan as long as I can remember. I went to my first game when I was three with my Grampa Bowen. We watched as Harmon Killibrew parked one out of the old Met Stadium that day, and I watched as Rod Carew stole second and third on consecutive pitches. And Tony Oliva...such a sweet, sweet swing.

I was hooked.

I even cheered the Twins in the late 70's when there were basically a farm team for the Yankees (fuck you, Steinbrenner).

But, then, there was 80's. Herbie and Kirby and Gaetti and Gagne and Chili and Dan "The Man" Gladden and Sweet Music Frankie Viola...watching as they came together and started putting their magic together...

I use to love hearing the announcer say "Up to bat for the Minnesota Twins, Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirby Puckett!"

1987 was my last year in the Corps. I was on the way home that September night when the Twins clinched the division, hearing the news in a motel in West Layfette, Indiana. Then...watching the team beat the Cards in seven games in the two weeks after Mom died. They were a welcome distraction for the family after losing Mom.

Kirby was my favorite. Watching those legs pump, coil, and leap, stealing homeruns the way Torii Hunter does now. He was an everyman with a boyish smile.

I got to meet him one year on the Twin's Caravan; an event where they travel around Minnesota and the surronding areas, giving back to the fans. I got to tell him how much I enjoyed watching him, and he was very modest as he said 'thank you.'

I remember one interview he gave where, when asked what he was going to do after he retired, and he said that he wanted to move back to Chicago and open a custom car wash.

Part of me believes he was serious. Another part of me says...well...he was funnin' all of us.

Touch 'em all, Kirby, touch 'em all.