Kirby was walking across the parking lot by himself from the Adam’s Mark Hotel to Royals Stadium. He was kind of down and didn’t have much to say, but he was good about signing a picture and talking a little bit about the season and being in the race.

I probably saw Kirby play more in KC than in Minnesota. A thing I will always remember is the Kansas City fans loved Kirby. As players jogged to centerfield from the foul lines before the game, Royals players, particularly young guys, would time their run so they could have a chance to meet Kirby as he ran to centerfield in his pre-game. Guys like Frank White, Willie Wilson and George Brett were always joking with Kirby…fans loved the way he played the game and he put on a show during batting practice and stretching exercises…the joking was constant and the smile was from ear to ear. Kirby, Gladden, Hrbek and Newman kept fans around the Twins dugout entertained during the pre-game warmups.

Kirby defined Twins baseball and still does. You could sense a culture and feeling around the Twins in the late 80s and early 90s that other American League teams didn’t have because I saw them all in Kansas City and only one team had Puckett - his approach to the game was embraced by the entire 25 man roster…he was the best.

Afer moving to Los Angeles in Feburary, 1984, most of my friends were also Minnesota expatriates. One of them called me that afternoon to tell me that they had managed to score his bank’s Angel tickets, and the Twins were in town.

We had terrific seats, just behind the Twins’ dugout. The story of the long cab ride was already making the rounds, and ouur group had a bit of fun heckling the funny-looking little Mud Hen.

The frist at-bat didn’t go so well, but by the middle of the game, it was obvious that Kirby was something special.

At about the seventh inning, I recall saying to my friend, “This is like watching Lou Gehrig’s first game. Where’s Wally Pipp?”

I’ve often thought about how prophetic that comment was-one of the greatest of all time, who would be felled in his prime by a disease.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kirby_Puckett

The cab driver had stopped for gas on Aviation Blvd and a patrol car had run either the plates on the cab or something, but had discovered that the driver had about 50 parking or traffic tickets that had not been handled… and they only let him go because I was in the back seat.

So, anyway, when I was given the shocking news about the cab fare, and realized I didn’t have it all - this must have before they took plastic - the driver said (and this was midnight) “Why don’t you go to one of those apartments and borrow some money?” Sure, at midnight, I’m going to knock on someone’s door and ask for $5? So, I said, “Look. The only reason you’re not in jail right now is me. I had to wait an extra half hour at the gas station because of your tickets. Here’s the $55… take it or leave it.”

He took it.

Ahhh, man, Puckett was a joy to watch. He arrived seven years after I had left Minnesota for SoCal, but when I returned to Minnesota in 1991 (from a software development position in Chicago) it was the day that the Twins won their last World Series (and right before a tremendously rude re-introduction to Minnesota winter: The Halloween Blizzard.

As the saying goes: “It’s a long road that has no turns.”