It is with deep sadness that I devote my space today on the passing of Kirby Puckett. I was a teammate of Kirby’s with the Twins from 1986-1990. As I have told many people over the last 24 hours, Kirby was the real deal. What you saw on TV is what you got. He never forgot where he came from which was the projects in Chicago. He treated the clubhouse kids, the front office people and media as if they were all longtime friends. He was generous to a fault. I can talk all day about what a great ballplayer he was, but it was the enthusiasm and little boy’s joy that he brought to the game that set him apart and made him the revered figure that he is. He is the guy that I will always hold up as an example of everything that you want in a player and a teammate.

I always tell this story about how one night the alarm went off in my brand new car. I ran out of my apartment looking for something to grab in case there was someone trying to break into my car. It turned out to be nothing. I told the story in the clubhouse the next day and Kirby, who was standing nearby, offered me an old bat. He told me he always kept a bat near his bed since he was a little boy in case someone broke into his house when he lived in the projects. Even though he had electronic security now, he never got out of the habit. I took the bat home with me and said to myself, "I can’t use this bat, this is Kirby’s." I still have that bat and will cherish it the rest of my life. It reminds me of this great guy and ballplayer who never forgot what it was like to be poor. And THAT, more than his Hall of Fame numbers, is what made him special.