View Full Version : Final Goodbyes of 2006

01-02-2007, 02:14 AM
Steve Irwin
February 22, 1962 - September 4, 2006

Gerald Ford
July 14, 1913 - December 26, 2006

James Brown
May 3, 1933 - December 25, 2006

Dana Reeve
March 17, 1961 - March 6, 2006

Coretta Scott King
April 27, 1927 - January 30, 2006

Don Knotts
July 21, 1924 - February 24, 2006

June Allyson
October 7, 1917 - July 8, 2006

Ed Bradley
June 22, 1941 - November 9, 2006

Peter Boyle
October 18, 1935 - December 12, 2006

Floyd Patterson
January 4, 1935 - May 11, 2006

Ann Richards
September 1, 1933 - September 13, 2006

Shelley Winters
August 18, 1920 - January 14, 2006

Syd Barrett
January 6, 1946 - July 7, 2006

Betty Friedan
February 4, 1921 - February 4, 2006

Bruno Kirby
April 28, 1949 - August 14, 2006

Kirby Puckett
March 14, 1960 - March 6, 2006

Patricia Kennedy Lawford
May 6, 1924 - September 17, 2006

Robert Altman
February 20, 1925 - November 20, 2006

Red Auerbach
September 20, 1917 - October 28, 2006

Maureen Stapleton
June 21, 1925 - March 13, 2006

Lloyd Bentsen
February 11, 1921 - May 23, 2006

Paul Gleason
May 4, 1939 - May 27, 2006

Aaron Spelling
April 22, 1923 - June 23, 2006

Buck O'Neill
November 13, 1911 - October 6, 2006

Chris Penn
October 10, 1965 - January 24, 2006

Gordon Parks
November 30, 1912 - March 7, 2006

Curt Gowdy
July 31, 1919 - February 20, 2006

Louis Rukeyser
January 30, 1933 - May 2, 2006

Wilson Pickett
March 18, 1941 - January 19, 2006

Byron Nelson
February 4, 1912 - September 26, 2006

Jack Warden
September 18, 1920 - July 19, 2006

Mike Douglas
August 11, 1925 - August 11, 2006

Jack Palance
February 18, 1919 - November 10, 2006

Bo Schembechler
April 1, 1929 - November 17, 2006

Joe Barbera
March 24, 1911 - December 18, 2006

Cory Lidle
March 22, 1972 - October 11, 2006

01-02-2007, 03:12 AM
So many people that brought so much into our lives along the trail.

01-02-2007, 10:47 AM
Wow, I didn't know that Bruno Kirby died! That one got past me.

01-02-2007, 10:54 AM
Sam Chapman died the other day too, he played for Cal in the Rose Bowl and the A's.



01-02-2007, 11:08 AM
Johnny Sain as well.


01-02-2007, 03:41 PM
These were my thoughts (from my blog) on Puckett's passing:

“And we’ll see you tomorrow night!”

--Jack Buck calling Kirby Puckett’s game-winning home run in Game 6 of the 1991 World Series

The moment Jack Buck said those words across the television airwaves, the Minnesota Twins forced a game seven in what would become arguably the greatest world series ever played. More importantly for me, that singular moment started a love affair with baseball that will last a lifetime. All thanks to Kirby.

Growing up, baseball was always a distant third place finisher in my heart behind football and basketball. I rooted for the Cincinnati Reds, but not with the same passion that I cheered for my favorite teams in the other sports. Baseball just didn’t engage me when I was a youngster. I didn’t fully understand the game, and I wasn’t sure if baseball was capable of eliciting the same emotion from me as football and basketball did. The Reds won the World Series in 1990, and I enjoyed it. But something was missing.

Then along comes Kirby Puckett in October of 1991.

Puckett was short and squatty, built like a brick outhouse. When his gigantic, but very short legs got moving as he ran the bases, it reminded me of those old Keystone Cops movies where everything seemed to be in fast-forward, all parties looking ridiculous. If you glanced at Puckett in pre-game warm-ups, you’d be hard pressed to believe that this man would someday grace Cooperstown as a Hall of Famer.

The Braves led the series 3-2, and appeared to have the title in their sights as the games shifted back to the Metrodome in Minneapolis. Game six was a whirlwind of emotions, each inning bringing more drama, and planting the seed of love for the game deeper in my heart and mind. Then Kirby sealed the deal. He blasted a shot to deep left center field. For a moment, it appeared as if the Braves outfielder may have had a chance to catch it, but the ball soared into the stands, lost amidst the white sea of Twins fans waving towels, and then Buck made that glorious homerun call, signifying all that is right with America’s game. Not only had we just witnessed a three-hour emotional roller coaster, but we got to do it all again tomorrow night!

The next night was even better, as fingernails dwindled, and the score remained 0-0 headed into the late innings. The Twins eventually won 1-0, capturing their second championship in five years. Pitcher Jack Morris was the hero of game seven, but Kirby Puckett was the hero of the city, the face of a franchise, and will always hold a special place with me as the man who opened the doors of passion for a game I didn’t quite understand until I watched this little fireplug of man light up my television screen.

Puckett was not only always smiling, he was always out-right lauging. He gave new meaning to the term infectious personality. The only problem with his personality, was that it consumed you so much that you sometimes forgot that he was an incredible baseball player. His clutch moments over the years are what’s embedded in our heads, but Puckett delivered consistently for twelve season in Minnesota, earning his spot in Cooperstown both statistically and emotionally. I think I would have enjoyed watching Puckett file taxes, take a nap, or talk on the phone—that’s how engaging and gregarious he was.

Now, in the blink of an eye, at age 45, he is gone. Dead of a stroke suffered at his Arizona home.

Things crumbled somewhat for Puckett after his playing days. His career ended when he was hit in the head with a ball and lost sight in one eye. His weight raged out of control, and there were reports that Puckett had a volatile temper away from the diamond. A Sports Illustrated article a few years ago painted a picture that wasn’t quite as sunny as the one he left on the field. While I don’t excuse any bad behavior, I choose not to dwell on those reports because I neither know about their accuracy, nor care to hold a man in such regard that I view him as flawless.

What I do know is that Puckett fueled a passion for baseball that lives inside of me today. One that I hope to pass on to my children. And when that day comes, I will show them a tape of Game six of the 1991 World Series, point out Kirby Puckett and tell them that’s how you play the game.

Thanks for the memories Kirby. In my mind, I’ll always be seeing you tomorrow night.

01-02-2007, 06:03 PM
Wow, I didn't know that Bruno Kirby died! That one got past me.

Neither did I, wow.

I think Don Knotts hurt the worst.