Kirby and Barry

The past two days have been sad days for baseball. Kirby Puckett died yesterday and today it appears that everything may have finally caught up with America’s sweetheart, Barry Bonds.
I first really got into baseball in 1991 when the Braves and Twins met in the World Series. I was partial to the Braves since they were technically my hometown team…although they were a state and a few hours away. Even though the Braves lost, I came out that series liking Kirby Puckett. He was one of a kind, one of the rare players couldn’t root against, even if he was playing your team. Tragically he left the game too early and after that it just seemed that part of him died. His problems after baseball are well-documented, but I remember him for Game six and seven of that series. Goodbye Kirby, the game won’t see another one like you.

And then there’s Barry Bonds. It’s something everyone’s thought at one point, I know I have. It’s a stark contrast with Kirby Puckett. You could tell Kirby wasn’t on steriods. He had the build of a barrel. Over the past few seasons Barry went from the skinny guy who played for the pirates who could steal bases. Now he’s a homerun machine with the mobility of a tank. Now it’s all come on Barry. I’ll post more on this later, but now Kirby has his time.

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