Thank you Kirby.....

The first week my wife and I dated was the week of the 1987 World Series.

Whenever we were together during a game, the Minnesota Twins won. When we weren't, the St. Louis Cardinals won. Neither of us were Twins' fans, but we "fell into" rooting for them.

There was this one guy playing for them. I didn't take much notice of him then, but would a few years later as my sports-card collecting alter ego resurrected itself.

I liked this guy. He didn't play on my team, but he's the prototype of how a great baseball player is NOT supposed to look like.

He's stubby.
He's chubby.
He's short.
The LAST place he could play is centerfield.

But he could, and he did.

He hit the biggest blast in, my estimation, the best World Series ever, in Game 6, 1991, against Atlanta. I was rooting for the Braves......but you couldn't fault him.

He's not supposed to leap a wall to make catches like that!!

In him, I saw me. I wasn't born to play ball. But he was. First in his heart, then mentally, then physically.

He'd tell you he was always the first to get to the ballpark and the last to leave, he loved it so much.

I guess that's why my collection of his baseball cards is around 200.

For your passion and love for your craft, and for bringing out the Hall-of-Famer in us all....

Thank you, Kirby Puckett.