isn’t the fame, the money, the gifts, the groupies, the notoriety, the power, the influence, the excuse to talk to yourself and answer back, no.
the best part of having a blog is that if you run across a picture of the ever lovable kirby puckett, you can put it up and not have to explain shit to anybody.
saps like bob costas are going to get on the tv and tell the millions of viewers that this is the perfect time for us to appreciate kirby puckett, but costas is a short little condescending fire hydrant ripe for a dog’s hind leg. we don’t need costas to tell us when to love kirby. any time is a perfect time to appreciate the hall of famer.
costas will get on his soap box and try to tell us something we don’t know about the former twin who rejected wheelbarrows full of cash to pull a giambi and sign up with the bronx bombers, and instead stayed where he belonged, where he was adored, in the twin cities and helped win the world series for minnesota in seven games back in ’91, the year that punk broke.
old bob will go on and on and they might even play the music from “the natural” or “field of dreams” or some made for tv tear jerker starring the blue eyed golden boy and his game winning moon shot over the old wooden fence advertisizing a shaving creame and the slow motion cameras and the cheers and the fanfare and his ma in the stands in her straw hat and his best girl.
too bad hollywood baseball movies don’t star big fat round black guys who stand five foot nine going blind on one eye youngest child of nine who sign autographs and go to hospitals for the kids and really do end game six with one swing of the bat. not in the bottom of the ninth. but in the bottom of the eleventh, sucka. because if they did make those sorts of movies you could get kirby back in those slimming pinstripes and theatre-goers would finally have someone they could root for again.
it’s good to have kirby puckett back in the spotlight again in this series between the never-say-die angels against the team that selig wanted to kill, the twins, because kirby reminds us that good guys don’t always finish last. kirby was part of two championships for the twins during his days. costas will show you the numbers. he’ll get the words out right. he’ll hammer home the old standby that with guys like latrell sprewell and randy moss and john rocker and influencing kids, we could use a few more kirbys. but costas had great role models growing up himself, and he still turned out to be a pudtz.
kirby didnt have a willie mays or a bobby bonds around like barry did. kirby had all the pressures that bonds had, a town that relied on him, all the cameras all the time, and not only did kirby smile when he was underpressure, but that smile was geniune. there was love there. there was a man who loved playing baseball and loved to win, and was mighty good with the glove too, jack.
but i just like having kirby back cuz he makes me happy when i see him. theres your next governor, minnesota.
she knocked on the front door. always looking good. slightly ridiculous because she loves to show off her belly at any expense. she looked around the place, saw there were no fresh flowers in the vase near the fireplace and smiled to herself. flowers meant that ashley had been there.