Rest in Peace Mr. Carneal

When I was much younger, and before I learned that not everyone is destined to be a professional athlete, I used to lay in bed listening to Minnesota Twins games on the radio. As I struggled to stay awake until the final out, I'd imagine that Herb Carneal was describing me on the field, making that final out or hitting a game winning home run. A long time has past since then, but Herb was still an integral part of the Twins, and therefore Minnesota culture. Bob Casey isn't around anymore to warn me to not smoke, Kirby Puckett's slow descent into post-baseball Shakespearean tragedy ended last spring, and now Herb Carneal will no longer be painting a picture clearer than any HD-TV with his microphone. It will never be the same again.