The smell of fresh-cut grass.
A whiff of the “hops” from my Dad’s freshly-opened Hamm’s, and the smell of baked beans coming from the kitchen.
That hot-tar smell you get in small towns on brutally warm days, when the sun’s been beating down all day – hot tar and dust from the alley, mixing with lilacs from the back hedge as the day finally starts to cool down.
And the crackling from Dad’s old portable transistor radio, as Herb Carneal called a Twins game on WCCO (rebroadcast on KEYJ), calling out names I can still practically recite in batting order; Rod Carew, Tony Oliva, Bob Allison, César Tovar, Jim Holt, Greg Nettles, Leo Cardeñas…
…and of course Harmon Killebrew.
All, each of them inseparably, are part of remembering summer when I was a little kid.
Killebrew, the Twins’ first Hall-of-Famer, as you’ve heard, passed away this morning at age 74.
A man of class who passed with the dignity he lived his life. He will be missed. “Is this Heaven?” “No, it’s Iowa.”
Rest in peace Mr. Killebrew…
When I was a kid, my Dad took me to a Twins game at the old stadium in Bloomington. I got all the teams autographs on a baseball including Harmon Killebrew’s. The players just stood around signing balls for kids for free. Still have that baseball.
Don’t remember a thing about the game except Dad ordering a beer from the beer man lugging his cooler up the stands, passing a one-dollar bill down the row of about 20 people, and having each of them pass him back his glass bottle of Grain Belt, a paper cup upside-down over the lip, and his dime in change!
Harmon Killebrew belonged to that era of gentlemanly civilized society, where 20 strangers would cheerfully pass along a guy’s dime. I miss him.
“And the crackling from Dad’s old portable transistor radio.” Spent many a summer day at the lake playing catch for hours on end and listening to the Twins on the radio. Many, many fond memories of those days.
We also went to a ton of games at the old Met. My dad or uncle would take me and my brother gloves in hand, right field bleacher seats by the bull pen. We always got there early so we could watch warm-ups. I remember most all the players would come out and sign autographs, balls, etc, EVERY kid wanted Killebrews signature, and he’d always cheerfully accomodate. Harmon was truly a class act.
RIP Killer!!! We’re gonna miss you!!
My favorite story from Harmon concerned his youth. It illustrates a larger lesson:
His mother was complaining that Harmon and his brother were tearing up the front lawn at their Idaho home by playing ball all day long. His father said “well, what are we raising? – grass or boys?”
I’ve told that story many times to fellow parents. Harmon was a kind and gentle and honest man who always held his name as his foremost possession. He shall be missed. My generation lost a gentle giant today.
Harmon Killebrew will always be remembered as a true gentleman of the game. Like Kirby Puckett, he wouldn’t leave the field until every kid that wanted his autograph got one! MLB is now worse off without him!
He was my first baseball hero and my brother’s was Bob Allison. Consequently, when we were on school or BAA teams, we always tried to get their numbers on our shirts.
I recall a story told by an umpire about what a nice guy Killer was. He related that he called a pitch that was eye level on him a strike. He knew he blew it immediately and waited for Harmon’s wrath. He said that Harmon just looked at him and smiled. Of course, the umpire continued, made me feel about four inches tall.
RIP #3. The Field of Dreams just got another power hitter!
“well, what are we raising? – grass or boys?”
Words that should be emblazoned on the halls of power.
My husband and I took the Junior to Chicago the year the Sox hosted the All Star game. He got to meet both Tony Oliva and Harmon Killebrew that day. Two of the kindest gentlemen there. They spent hours with the kids. Shoot, I could have sat there all day listening to them.
Killer represented the Twins well. He (as is the organization he represented) was a class act all the way and he will be missed greatly.
Cindy