Mike Lynn rose from helping Max Winter with contracts to being all-powerful during his 15 years (1975-1990) with the Vikings.
Remarkable Mike’s gone now, and yet always will rank among my favorite characters, perhaps because he remains the only person to receive the Turkey of the Year and call the Turkey Chairman on Thanksgiving morning to say, “It’s about time.”
Lynn would end all conversations — long or short — by saying, “You’re my guy.”
There were thousands of people who received this parting salutation, I’m sure, but I still felt honored to be in Lynn’s “my guy” club.
I’ve come to realize I have my own such club, based mostly on folks that were interviewed and wound up to be responsible for what were deemed (by me) to be good columns.
For instance: I find myself cringing while watching the struggles of Twins reliever Aaron Thompson, not because of the result it might cause but rather a clubhouse interview in April that turned into a far better column than imagined.
Same way with Mark Hamburger, another reliever now assigned to Class AAA Rochester. I wrote a column on Hamburger at spring training, decided he was “my guy,” and cringed when I looked at Friday’s boxscore and saw that he gave up seven runs while getting four outs for the Red Wings.
The latest gent in the My Guy Club is Dr. Seth Hawkins, a k a Dr. Fan, the subject of Saturday’s column.
John Rosengren, a local fellow who writes excellent historical pieces, wrote a blog on Dr. Fan for the website of the New Yorker magazine. Rosengren then sent me a note, suggesting a visit to Dr. Fan’s home — the Julian H. Sleeper House and Museum — in St. Paul.
For this suggestion, Rosengren has gained official status as a member of the My Guy Club.
One item not squeezed into Saturday’s column:
Dr. Fan became transfixed with Ichiro Suzuki as he put together a record 10 consecutive seasons with 200 hits — so much so that he traveled to see Ichiro’s 200th hit in the last four seasons (2007-10) of the streak.