Kirby Puckett: on a new mission - former baseball star crusades against glaucoma

Ebony, Oct, 1997 by Walter Leavy

Kirby Puckett had no idea that day by day, little by little, he was losing the sight in his right eye. Even with several physical examinations a year, including vision tests, there was no indication that he was slowly becoming partially blind -- forcing, at 35, an abrupt and premature end to a Hall of Fame career.

What Puckett didn't know was that glaucoma, a vicious disease that strikes without warning and disproportionately affects African-Americans, had sneaked upon him like a thief in the night and stole one of his most precious possessions. "Here's a guy who was taking about five physicals a year for the team and to meet the requirements for my personal insurance," says the former Minnesota Twins center fielder who is now the team's executive vice president. "I'm a .318 career hitter, so why would I think I had a problem with my eyes? I mean I got 2,300 hits with these eyes. That's the last thing I would have thought, something being wrong with my eyes."

The career that Puckett dreamed about when he was 5 years old and one that he describes as "a 12-year fairy tale" fell victim to a disease he was only vaguely familiar with. When he was growing up in Chicago's Robert Taylor Homes, some of his friends talked about their parents or grandparents having problems with their eyes because of glaucoma. Puckett didn't know exactly what it was then, but he knew it was something bad. And it is that lack of knowledge, he says, that greatly contributed to his condition. That's why, as national spokesman for the prevention of glaucoma, he is on a personal, nationwide crusade to inform as many people as possible about the dangers of glaucoma and the importance of thorough, complete eye examinations. "I'm trying to make people aware, especially African-Americans, that they need to get checked for glaucoma because I don't want what happened to me to happen to them," says Puckett, whose regular vision exams didn't include screening for glaucoma. "The only way that can be avoided is for people to take the first step, the ultimate step, and that is to get checked. Please take 10 to 15 minutes out of a day, go to your eye doctor and get checked for glaucoma because it doesn't give you any warning signs. It came, took the sight in my right eye, and I'll never be able to regain it."

In Puckett's crusade, his greatest asset is his enormous popularity, especially in Minnesota, where he has reached legendary status. A testament to that popularity can be witnessed with a quick gaze out of the window of his Metrodome office, which overlooks a street called Kirby Puckett Place.

Whenever he has a break from his duties with the Twins, Puckett travels around the country, speaking to anyone who will listen, telling his story and preaching about how not to become a victim of glaucoma. They listen, not only because of the importance of the message, but because they remember Kirby being on top and himself not immune to the disease.

Puckett reached the top, he says, because of his determination and his refusal to allow anyone -- or anything -- to keep him from achieving his dream to making it to the major leagues. Standing only 5-foot-9, he often heard people tell him he wouldn't make it because of his smallish stature. He didn't listen, not even when gang members tried to recruit him or sometimes laughed when they saw him with his bat and glove in one hand and his books in the other. It was that kind of determination that was evident throughout his career -- a career in which he became one of the game's premier players, winning two World Series, six Gold Gloves, a batting title and appearing in 10 consecutive All-Star games.

In 1995, Kirby hit .314 with 23 home runs and 99 RBIs. He was anxiously looking forward to begin the 1996 season so he could continue his pursuit of the magical 3,000-hit plateau. But during spring training, he remembers getting out of bed and seeing the face of his wife, Tonya, obscured behind a hazy circle he likened to dark clouds. An eye test revealed a partial blockage of a blood vessel behind the right eye.

The next day he had the first of five surgeries on that eye to correct damage caused by glaucoma. On July 12, 3 1/2 months after the first first surgery, Dr. Bert Glaser at the Retina Institute of Maryland performed a vitrectomy, the final effort to restore blood flow to Kirby's retina. If the surgery was successful, Puckett could resume the activities that had occupied his time during the past 24 summers. If it wasn't, he would have to wake up from his dream, hang up his uniform and see how the real world compared to his so-called fairy tale.

With Puckett's career hanging in the balance, the anxiety mounted as he lay in bed and awaited the results. When Dr. Glaser came into the room, he remembers with crystal clarity what the doctor told him, "He said, `Kirby, there has been irreversible eye damage, and you'll never be able to play baseball again.' My wife was crying and I looked up and shouted, `Thank you, Jesus,'" Puckett says. "I was just so happy that it was all over; I was no longer in limbo and I could now go on with the other part of my life."