Tuesday, March 07, 2006
When we lived in Minnesota, I was still pretty little but I managed to somehow, on some level, understand what baseball meant to people in the Twin Cities. When we'd go to the Metrodome in the late 80s (an overwhelming structure for a 7-year old, anyway) and the insanely loud roar of the fans would equalize into a kind of white noise in my head, it was clear that this was something that was really, really important to a lot of Minnesotans.
And down there, in the diamond, was a short guy, shaped a bit like a prairie chicken, who could knock the ball out of the park if not for the pillowy canopy that covered it.
RIP, Kirby . . . we'll miss you.
Posted by Cassie Schoon at 9:21 AM