Watertown, South Dakota one of the coldest cities in America, will be hosting comedian Pauly Shore on December 16 at a local place there called Minervas.

To commemorate the event, sort of, my brother sent me a list of the America’s Coldest Cities Read more…

This is a story about Kirby Puckett. I wrote this back in 2001, and it’s one of many reasons why “The Puck” was so beloved by Twins fans and the baseball world.

We all have that one special hat in our collection. Baseball fans know. It’s the odd one with all the sweat marks in it, the hat that you would never wear in public.  For some sentimental reason, you keep it on your shelf because it’s the one that reminds you most of why you love the game.

Mine is an old, red trucker’s style hat from the 1986 Watertown SD VFW team. This is that hat’s s story.

It was toward the end of 1986 baseball season. I just returned back to the Twin Cities for my senior year of college, after a summer of coaching baseball and delivering pizzas.

True to form, the first thing I would do after checking into the dorms, was get to the Metrodome for my fix of Major League baseball.

I put on that VFW had, threw on a Twins t-shirt, and drove my 1971 Pontiac Catalina to the 5^th & Chicago in downtown Minneapolis to watch batting practice as soon as the gates opened up.

I loved sitting in an almost empty dome, listening to the crack and echoes of the bats hitting the balls. I would always try to get in the first row right by the Twins bullpen in Section 134.

The Twins were just finishing up with their pre-game batting practice and I was in earshot of the players as they strolled around the left field area, stretching and doing wind sprints.

Most of the players had already worked their way back to the Twins 3rd base dugout, but as I looked straight ahead, I saw Kirby Puckett walking slowly toward me. Our eyes met, and I couldn’t hold back the urge to bark out,

“Hey PUCK!”

He gave me a quick head nod of affirmation, smiled, and then much to my shock, started walking right up to me.

“Hey! Hey! What’s UP my man?”

Was this really happening?  I was caught off guard. After all the years of waving and yelling salutations to Major League players from the stands, this was the first time that one had actually acknowledged me, and was now walking up to come chat. Oh and did I tell you it was it was KIRBY?

“Where are you from with that hat on?” he asked in reference to the red VFW baseball cap that I was wearing.

“Oh this hat?” I questioned, taking it off to verify that it was in fact the red hat of the team that I had coached that summer.

“This is from my VFW team that I coached in Watertown South Dakota,” I nervously responded, not knowing what to do or say next.

“Well, do you want me to sign it?” Kirby suggested as he reached towards me expecting that it was an autograph for which I had beckoned him. In fact, that thought had not crossed my mind. I was caught completely off guard by this young Twin’s willingness to come over to just say “hi.”

“Ah, sure… ah ya…here!”

I handed him my hat, absent of having anything else for him to sign. Being a poor college student on a restricted budget it was all I could do to afford the Twins ticket, gas money and parking for the trip from my St. Paul campus. I did not have the money to buy a game day scorecard, yearbook, media guide or new Twins hat.

Puck looked over my sweaty hat for a split second and then nailed me with this ultimate stumper question.

“Ah, man, you got a PEN or sharpie or something?”

I was embarrassed to admit to this potential MVP candidate, who was on the verge of finishing the season with over a .320 average and 30 plus homers, that I did not have a writing utensil.

“No, I ah… actually don’t have anything that writes on me.”

For some reason, I turned flush red with inadequacy. It felt like I was taking a math test that I hadn’t studied for. I wasn’t prepared, and didn’t know what to do next. I could just feel this awkward situation getting weirder. I was sure in my mind that Puck would just walk away, leaving me with no proof of this brief and completely unexpected moment. I think Kirby sensed my uneasiness.

“Hey, that’s okay man!  Just wait it out a few seconds here and this area will be full of kids wanting autographs. AND THEY WILL HAVE PENS!”   Puck laughed, roaring that boisterous giggle that all Twins fans would grow to love over the next decade.

“We’ll just steal one of their pens okay?” he joked.  I laughed with him.  The tension was broke, and Kirby proceeded to strike up a conversation as if we were old friends from his home in Chicago.

“So how did OUR VFW in Watertown do this year?”

It felt like he genuinely cared. I felt humble, and could not believe that I was participating in a baseball chat with Kirby Puckett. This guy was going out of his way to make sure that, not only would I get an autograph, but he was going to chat about my baseball team with me too! I don’t even remember what I told him about the team, but with just those few words and interaction, this man had won a fan for life. In my book, from this point in 1986, Puck could do no wrong in his baseball career.

Within a few minutes, just as he predicted, several kids were all over the area and they did indeed have pens. Kirby jokingly taunted me as he inked his signature onto that ratted out VFW hat,

“See, I told you they would have a pen for you, and it’s even a good one… A SHARPIE!”  He laughed again, in that trademarked bubbly Hall of Fame laugh. He handed my hat back to me, grinned, nodded, and started working the crowd of adoring kids.

It made me feel like that kid in the Mean Joe Green, Coca Cola commercial.  As I walked away with my new autograph, I could see #34 smiling and laughing and teasing the kids as signed what looked like thousands of autographs. I could hear high-pitched screams of delight from the kids as he made each and every one of them feel special.

Kirby signed for every single person he saw, laughing and smiling the whole time. The entire scene fascinated me and it all started when I yelled, “Hey Puck!”

I realize of course that it really wasn’t me that started that autograph session. It was Kirby.  I saw him repeat that ritual every time I went to a Twins game, realizing how truly special this ballplayer was.

Kirby IS, WAS and ALWAYS WILL BE baseball in Minnesota. His accolades on the field, and induction to Cooperstown are just confirmation of what we Twins fans knew all along, he loved the game, and the people who watched it.

Kirby had many VFW hat days with many fans over the years. Each time, Puck added a more important stat to his resume, “Fans Won Over!”  This stat is more important than any baseball achievement on the field.

My hat now resides on my trophy case in my little sports bar basement. The autograph on the bottom of the lid is barely visible these days, but the hat remains, and will passed on to my son. It represents something that both Kirby and I share, a love of the game. That cannot ever be replaced.

“He fakes a bluff.”
-Ron Fairly

Really? Was he bluffing with this quote? Not likely.

Ron Fairly was one of those players who made the best out of his days in Major Leagues. He was an All-Star twice, and batted just above .250 for his entire career. He played in 4 World Series, including 1965, where he launched 2 bombs for the Dodgers over the Twins. He was never a household name or baseball legend, but 90% of the league can say the same thing.

I remember getting several of his baseball cards in the wax packs of TOPPS bubble gum back in the 70′s. For some reason, I always seemed top open up a pack, hoping for a Bert Blyleven, Harmon Killerbrew or Rod Carew, and ending up getting a Ralph Garr, Ron Fairly or Ken McMullen. “Commons” is what we would call these cards, and they were of little value to us, the kids on the streets in Watertown, SD.

I find Fairly’s quote entertaining, because in a way it too, sums up my entire career wrapped into a life of ups and downs. I am not a star, corporate executive or upper class. I am a plain old WASP (White Angle Saxon Male) from the midwest, with a college education, a wife, 2 kids and a Ford-150. I vote my conscience, don’t like conflicts, pay my taxes and go to church. I am not a boat rocker. I learned along time ago that the higher up the ladder you climb, the more of your ass is exposed to those looking up at it.

That being said, I can’t help that the ills of history all seem to be blamed on people just like me; the commons, the grunts of society, the Norms.

Am I just faking my bluff?