Oct. 27, 1991: Puckett paints a masterpiece in his finest hour

This was before the game-winning homer, before the catch, before the first-inning triple, the fifth-inning sacrifice fly RBI, the eighth-inning single, the stolen base.

This was before anyone knew there'd be a Game 7 tonight, which there will be, mostly because of Kirby Puckett.

He's the guy who did it all to save the game that pushed the Twins and Braves to this wonderful ledge at the end of a glorious season: the breathless final game of the World Series.

"Before the game he said, `Get on board, I'm going to carry the load,' " Twins manager Tom Kelly said after Puckett recorded his name boldly in World Series history. "My gosh, that's carrying the load and pulling the truck and everything."

Ninety minutes before Game 6's first pitch, a reporter from the British Broadcasting Co.'s television network had Puckett alone for an interview. Puckett, unshaven, Twins cap perched casually on his head, holding a bat, was to the right and behind home plate, near the Braves dugout. It was a positively global event.

The distinguished man with the distinguished accent held a spiral notebook in his hands. He clumsily asked questions about baseball in a manner similar to the way a man who grew up in the projects of Chicago might ask questions about tea and crumpets.

"What kind of psychic effect is your slump having on you?" the Brit asked Puckett.

"Well, man, it's not like I'm trying to make an out, man," Puckett said, politely. "Just because I'm not hitting, man, doesn't mean I'm a bad guy or anything, man."

It was a lovely slice of the Series, of aliens coming to the Metrodome and talking to a member of Minnesota's royalty, the king of swing and minister of defense who made so much happen last night.

First, let's talk catch. It was the stuff that has always been a part of Puckett highlights.

"It's something you can't practice on," he said after the game. "When Ron Gant hit the ball, I knew it wasn't out. I said, `Just get back. Just get back.' "

He leaped. It was in his glove. Patented Puckett. He was in the midst of carving a masterpiece.

Second, let's talk hitting. Puckett came into Game 6 with a .167 Series average, one RBI, two singles, one homer, five strikeouts in 18 at-bats. Struggling.

"You guys said I struggled," Puckett said, a bit testily, afterward. "I haven't been struggling. I've been hitting the ball right at people."

Not last night. In the first, a triple down the third base line drove in the Twins' first run and then he scored the second.

In the fifth, he did sock the ball directly at a fielder, but it was at Gant in center field, and it was far and it was a sacrifice fly that scored the Twins' third run, a go-ahead run at that point.

Then came his homer in the 11th. No one came close to that cookie. The count was 2-1 and lefty Charlie Leibrandt, a changeup artist, was brought in to - ahem - keep the Braves alive. Puckett was the first man he faced.

Overanxious all series, Puckett, a habitual first-ball hitter, had to contain himself from going right after Leibrandt. Teammate and on-deck hitter Chili Davis gave him words of advice.

"Make him get the ball up," Davis told Puckett.

"He's told me that so many time this season," Puckett said. "And I've said, OK.' "

And then he chased balls down low.

Not this time. Not in this extra inning stomach-churner.

So, Puckett waited for a high one. On Leibrandt's fourth pitch he got it. Up high. Off-speed.

"I couldn't believe it," Puckett said. "I finally did something I said I was going to do. I'm proud of myself."

He swung. He didn't know it was out. He ran hard, hoping to leg out a double, knowing Davis was behind him. The ball sailed over the fence, just feet from the area where Puckett made the catch of the day.

"It was awesome," Puckett said.

He rounded first. Left fielder Brian Hunter's back was turned and his head was down. The ball was gone.

Puckett pumped his arms. He started shouting to himself, "Yeah, yeah." His mantra continued as he turned second base. His teammates were jumping in unison at home plate, awaiting him.

He turned third and before he got to home plate to make it official, Junior Ortiz was high-fiving him halfway up the line. There was tonight's starting pitcher, Jack Morris, 10 feet up the line. Then the rest of the mob.

"My teammates killed me," Puckett said. "I've got a headache. I feel like I went 15 rounds with Evander Holyfield."

Out of the fray, he jogged to the dugout, where he embraced Kelly, placing his head on the manager's shoulder affectionately. Kelly shouted in his ear over the deafening Dome dim.

"I just said, `That was beautiful,' " Kelly reported. "He took care of business."

And Puckett had a Carlton Fisk, Bill Mazeroski, Kirk Gibson kind of World Series homer. And the Twins and Braves had a Game 7.

A place in history, Kirby?

"I don't care about that," Puckett said. "I just want to win."

Last night, the Twins did, almost singlehandedly. They were Puckett's hands.

"Where's the script?" asked Kelly. "What's it say for Game 7? "Somebody's got the storybook. I wish they'd let us in on the ending."

Maybe Kirby knows.

"This is a game I'll never forget," Puckett said.

He is not alone on that score.