One day, when Bobby Korecky is old and gray, he will put his grandson on his knee.

“Grandpa,” the boy will begin.

“Yes, Juanie?” Korecky will say to the boy who was named for the teammate who put Korecky in position (through utter and ongoing failure) to create the legend of May 19, 2008.

Korecky knows what’s coming. but he plays along with little Juanie, a normal kid in every way — except for his own trouble finding the plate (at mealtime)

“Tell me about the time you beat Texas,” Juanie will ask.

“OK, grandson. But please, please, please stop driving your Mommy and Daddy crazy with your inability to find…”

“I promise, Grandpa Bobby,” young Juanie says, impatiently cutting off his elder because he wants to hear the story again!

“Well, Juanie. We were in the process of throwing away another game to a team that wasn’t very good. It was 5-2 our lead when a pitcher named Boof messed up a double play with a bad throw and Delmon Young hit a runner with a throw right after…”

“Delmon Young?” Juanie interrupted. “He was supposed to hit home runs and remind everyone of Hall of Famer Frank Robinson, wasn’t he?”

“Good boy, Juanie. You certainly do a good job of reading those history blogs on the internet.”

“Thanks, Grandpa Bobby.”

“Well, it was 6-5 them and then it was 6-6 and then the manager Ron Gardenhire…”

“Bathroom caulk!” Juanie shouted with a giggle, thumping the chest of his My Local Hardware Store jammies.

“…brought in Juan Rincon in the 11th inning. Other than me and a guy named Barney Bass, or something like that, he didn’t have any other relief pitchers left. And I hadn’t been around long enough for Mr. Gardenhire to trust me.”

“That was after Juan was having trouble finding the plate, just like me,” Juanie said proudly.

“Right,” Bobby Korecky continued, trying to ignore the incredible coincidence of his old teammate and his grandson’s problems, and wondering if the shared name had something to do with it. “He gave up a double and then walked a guy and, while that was happening, the telephone in the bullpen rang and they finally had no choice but to allow me to warm up. I threw as quickly as I could while Juan Rincon, after walking the eighth man in the Texas order, threw a ball to the No. 9 batter. I could sense the urgency of the situation when Gardy — that’s what we called him — tried to break the rules and go to the mound twice during one batter, which you can’t do in baseball. He was that mad.

“When that didn’t work, Juan Rincon went on and walked the No. 9 batter and then Gardy was able to bring me in. You should have seen the look on Gardy’s face when he walked to the mound.”

“I know, Grandpa Bobby,” Juanie said, knowing his lines from hearing the story so often. “Gardy looked like he’d seen a ghost — or had been listening to Telly Hughes.”

“Such a smart boy you are, Juanie. I saw that Gardy was mad and my teammates were worried and I knew I had to do something. So I told them to hush as we stood on the mound and I reached back into Twins history, all the way back to Game 6 of the 1991 World Series.”

“You mean you pretended you were Kirrrrrbyyyyyyyy Puckett,” Juanie said with a joyful shriek.

“Right you are, Juanie. I looked around at the infielders and the catcher and Gardy and I said to them, ‘Guys, I just have one announcement to make: You guys should jump on my back. I’m going to carry us.’ ”

“You predicted it, Grandpa Bobby?”

“Yes, right then and there, in front of my teammates and the 714 people who were still left at the Dome. And I got Ian Kinsler to hit a pop-up and Michael Young to strike out. And then, because there wasn’t anyone else to bat for me (and Gardy trusted Big Mouth Billy Bass, or whatever his name was, even less than he trusted me), I got to hit. We didn’t have a DH any more because of all the managing that Gardy had to do.”

“And you singled, right, Grandpa?”

“Yes, Juanie, I singled to right and I went to second when Brendan Harris got a single and then Joe Mauer walked and the bases were loaded with Justin Morneau coming up and I imagined myself crossing home plate with the winning run and getting swallowed up in a joyous fit of…

“…celebratory man love,” Juanie interrupted.

“You know this story almost as well as I do,” Bobby Korecky said, glowingly.

“Thanks, Grandpa,” little Juanie Korecky said, shifting into his best Dick Bremer-doing-highlights imitation. “But Morneau struck out and Cuddyer grounded into a force play and then Bobby Korecky went out to pitch a perfect 12th, retiring the three, four and five hitters in the Texas lineup without any of them getting the ball out of the infield. Then, Gogomez (despite a sore wrist) led off with an infield single and, one out later, scored from second when Howie Clark hit a ball over the center fielder’s head and Bobby Korecky had his first career victory and was the star of the game and never went back to the minor leagues again.”

“Exactly,” Bobby Korecky said. “Told like a true champ, Juanie.”

“Grandpa Bobby,” the little boy said. “Whatever happened to Juan Rincon?”

“That, grandson, is a story for when you’re older. Time for bed.”

other people are here too

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