Thinking about Harmon
by Bruce MarkusenMay 14, 2011
Based on the courageous comments from Harmon Killebrew regarding the end of his fight with esophageal cancer, we can assume that it is just a matter of weeks, or perhaps even days, before we lose him entirely. This is sad news for any baseball fan, but especially for those who have had the pleasure of meeting a most gracious man.
Not surprisingly, Harmon was never thrown out of a game during his career. He never threw his helmet in anger. If he had a temper, it was never evident, either on the ballfield or in the clubhouse. He was this kind of guy: If someone had tried to attack him with a knife, Harmon would have thanked him for being kind enough to lend him a kitchen utensil.
My favorite card of Killebrew is his 1973 Topps issue, shown here. Unlike most card photos that show hitters at the plate, this card give us a different perspective because we see the catcher in full view. From this angle, the Cleveland Indians’ catcher (I believe it’s backup receiver Jerry Moses) appears to be so close to Killebrew that he’d be charged with catcher’s interference if “Killer” took a swing at the next pitch.
It’s a great shot of Killebrew, too. He looks so balanced, so firmly entrenched in the batter’s box with those tree-trunk legs, that it would take a forklift to move him off the plate. He looks much bigger, and far more powerful, than his listed dimensions of 5-foot-11 and 195 pounds would indicate.
When I first learned about Killebrew as a young fan in the early 1970s, I was captivated by his name. Harmon Killebrew. That just seemed like a great name, especially for a slugger. Given his power and his build, I had always assumed that Killebrew was a tough, nasty ogre of a guy. With that name, and given the way that he crushed fastballs, I just figured that he had to be.
I could not have been more wrong. Just ask any Hall of Fame employee who ever encountered him, ever had a chance to talk to him. Like me, they’ll all miss seeing him at Induction Weekend.
I don’t know how much longer Harmon Killebrew has. What I do know is this: for 74 years, he’s made people feel better, just by being around him.
Bruce Markusen is the author of seven books on baseball, including the award-winning A Baseball Dynasty: Charlie Finley’s Swingin’ A’s, the recipient of the Seymour Medal from the Society for American Baseball Research. He has also written The Team That Changed Baseball: Roberto Clemente and the 1971 Pittsburgh Pirates, Tales From The Mets Dugout, and The Orlando Cepeda Story.
I have to admit. Growing up, I was not a big Harmon Killebrew fan. The Impossible Dream year of 1967 is still a pivotal year in my life. I was a kid – and a Red Sox fan. But that year turned me from just a fan into a diehard fan. The kind that is a foundation of Red Sox Nation. Now in ’67, the Red Sox and Twins were rivals (you can add in the Tigers too). I will always remember the slugger Harmon Killebrew battling Carl Yastrzemski in AL HR race. Killebrew and Yaz ended up tying for home runs but the Triple Crown belonged to Yaz. Fast forward to a few years ago. I was at Spring Training in Ft. Myers. The Twins were on the road that day but I decided to go over to their park to watch minor leaguers. The main stadium’s gates were open so I went in to walk around. And who is sitting in a chair next to the dugout – in full uniform – but Harmon Killebrew. Now picture – there is nothing happening on the field. But there’s Harmon talking about baseball with a small audience of fans. You could feel how he just loved the game and talking about it. And that Harmon enjoyed conversing with fans who felt the same way. The conversation reminded me of how I became a life-long fan in the first place. From that day forward, I became a huge Harmon Killebrew fan.