Restoring Kingdom Builders

Yesterday morning, my step-father stopped by our house to do a couple of projects, and he brought with him an obituary torn out of the newspaper about the death of Harmon Killebrew.  The paper said that his funeral was going to be held this morning at the church my wife and I have been attending (Christ’s Church of the Valley) for nearly a year.

She asked me, “Why not go?”

So I did.  To be honest, I haven’t worn a dress shirt or dress slacks or dress shoes for nearly 18 months, but I did today – but I would only do that for Harmon Killebrew.

Why did he mean something to me?

When I was 13 years old, two of my friends called me on the phone and told me that they had gotten the autographs of Mickey Mantle and Whitey Ford just a few hours before.  I couldn’t believe it.  I grew up collecting baseball cards and could not imagine meeting any baseball player, much less two of the all-time Yankee greats.

My friends told me they got their autographs at the Grand Hotel behind Disneyland.  It was about a three-mile drive from our house.  I didn’t know how I was going to get there, but since the Yankees were still in town, I had to go.

So my mother drove a few of us to the hotel, and when the players came out to go to the ballpark, we got their autographs – even those of Mantle and Ford.

Since the Minnesota Twins were the next team in town, the mother of one of my brother’s friends drove us to the hotel on a Saturday afternoon.  When we entered the lobby, there were three baseball cards come-to-life sitting on the couch: Bob Allison, Harmon Killebrew, and Jim Perry.  There were all cordial, but Killebrew actually talked to us.  He was relaxed, warm, and kind.

Although I don’t have the signature he gave me that day, I still retain a few that I received from him later that year.  And over the years, I saw him in various venues, including spring training, and he was always the same great guy.

So at today’s service, I wept a little.  Country singer Charlie Pride sang three songs on his guitar, including, “Precious Lord, Take My Hand” and “I’ll Fly Away.”  Friends and family members shared tributes about The Killer, including a grandson who played an instrumental version of Don McLean’s “And I Love You So.”  Twins’ announcer and recent Hall of Famer Bert Blyleven shared a heartfelt tribute to Killebrew as well, finally encouraging us to give him a standing ovation.  We did.

And then our pastor spoke.  He had met Killebrew many times and stated that he had received Jesus into his life.  And our pastor presented the gospel in a brief but clear way.

Two of the great loves of my life intersected this morning: Jesus and baseball.

After the service was done, I spotted a lot of ex-ballplayers in the patio area: Don Baylor, Bert Campaneris, Tony Oliva, Fergie Jenkins, Frank Robinson, Robin Yount, and Rod Carew, as well as current Twins Joe Nathan and Justin Morneau.

All at my church!  What a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!

Tony Oliva spent a long time talking to Bert Campaneris, and I wanted to talk to him for just a minute, but I didn’t want to interrupt their conversation.  Tony Oliva was named to the All-Star team in 1967, and a week or so before the game, the Twins came to town and my friend Steve and I obtained autographs from the various players, including Oliva.  Steve had the chicken pox at the time.  A few days later, Tony Oliva got the chicken pox and missed the All-Star game.  Steve was certain that he had given the chicken pox to Oliva.  I wanted to tell Oliva that story.  I’ll bet he never heard that one before!

Not long ago, I had the opportunity to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York.  It was a relatively quiet day in the picturesque town, and I was able to wander around at my leisure.  While I’ve been in the gallery that has all the Hall of Fame plaques before, this time I wasn’t in any hurry.  It gave me the opportunity to think about those guys not just as ballplayers, but as men.

Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of meeting scores of Hall of Famers.  Some have been grouches for forty years.  Some used to be nice and have morphed into grouches.  It’s tough to walk around in public, I guess, when you are constantly bothered for your signature, which has become a commodity to be sold on eBay rather than something to be treasured by a true fan.

But for some reason, Harmon Killebrew never changed.  Of the few hundred pictures displayed this morning, a good deal of them were of Killebrew signing something: for a child, for an elderly man, or for dozens of fans.  For years, I had a signed 1967 Topps baseball card of Killebrew and teammate Bob Allison up on my bulletin board.  To hold it up, I used a push pin.  That little action devalued the worth of the item, but that’s okay.  To me, it’s priceless.

Because I remember the man.  Harmon Killebrew.  Number 3.  Minnesota Twins.  573 home runs.  1969 Most Valuable Player in the American League.  And along with Brooks Robinson, Hall of Fame third baseman for the Baltimore Orioles, the two nicest superstars I ever met.

While there may be more, I only know of a handful of Hall of Famers who have professed to be followers of Jesus: Bobby Doerr, Ernie Banks, Mickey Mantle (who received Jesus in the closing days of his life), Gary Carter (who gave praise to Jesus at his induction ceremony), and Duke Snider (with whom I had a wonderful conversation about his faith more than twenty years ago).  There are a few others who have professed to be Christians who seem to have gone off track a bit – but maybe they’ve come back to the Lord.  I certainly hope so.

But it’s one thing to be a Hall of Famer on the field – it’s another to be an all-time great with people.

Harmon Killebrew was both.

I’m reminded of the words of the Apostle Paul: “If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.”

How about a paraphrase: “If I hit 500-foot home runs, and am recognized everywhere I go, and have been immortalized inside my profession, and made a ton of money, but I’m a selfish twit, I am nothing.”

If love is the measure, then from all I know, Harmon Killebrew was really something.

And that’s the true legacy of the man – and of every man and woman.

Mr. Killebrew – thanks for being so cool to a 13-year-old kid.  I will never ever forget you.