“Every Day Is a Gift”: Mike Krukow’s Courageous Fight Against a Rare Disease and His Unbreakable Love for the Game
Mike Krukow has spent his life in baseball. First as a pitcher with the Giants and Cubs, then as one of the most beloved voices in the booth. But now, at 72, his greatest battle isn’t being fought on the mound or behind a microphone — it’s against his own body.
Krukow is living with inclusion body myositis, a rare degenerative muscle disease that slowly weakens the arms and legs, eroding mobility and independence. For someone whose energy once filled stadiums and living rooms alike, it’s a cruel opponent. Yet if you ask Krukow, he’ll tell you something that sounds more like poetry than pain: “Every day is a gift.”
Sitting in his Northern California home, Krukow talks about his diagnosis with the same candor and humor that made him a fan favorite. “It’s part of the deal,” he says. “You can’t control the cards you’re dealt — but you can decide how you play them.”
Those words sum up the spirit that has defined Krukow’s life. A former All-Star pitcher turned Emmy-winning broadcaster, he’s long been known for his quick wit, empathy, and warmth. Giants fans don’t just hear him — they feel him. Even now, when his disease forces him to walk with a cane and limits his travel, Krukow’s presence on the airwaves remains electric.
“He’s the heartbeat of Giants baseball,” says broadcast partner Duane Kuiper, Krukow’s longtime friend. “Even on tough days, he shows up with that same energy — because he knows people need it.”
Doctors told Krukow years ago that his condition would gradually worsen, and it has. But his response hasn’t changed. He jokes about his “stubborn legs,” calls his wheelchair “the convertible,” and focuses on what still matters: family, faith, and the game he loves.
When fans spot him at Oracle Park, their reactions are emotional — not out of pity, but admiration. They see a man who refuses to let illness define him. They see a fighter. “It’s impossible not to be inspired by him,” says Giants executive Buster Posey. “Mike reminds everyone here that gratitude is a muscle, too — and he keeps his strong.”
At home, Krukow still starts his mornings like a ballplayer — with discipline. Physical therapy replaces bullpen sessions; coffee and laughter replace team meetings. His wife, Jennifer, has been his anchor through it all. “She’s the real MVP,” Krukow says, smiling. “I pitch ideas, and she keeps them from going wild.”
Every now and then, Krukow revisits the field — not as a player, but as a presence. During one visit to the Giants clubhouse, a young pitcher approached him nervously. “Mr. Krukow,” he said, “how do you stay positive?” Krukow looked him in the eye and answered, “By remembering how lucky I am to still be here — and to still care.”
That’s the heart of Mike Krukow’s story. It’s not about illness. It’s about endurance. It’s about the rare kind of strength that comes not from muscle, but from gratitude.
As he likes to say before every broadcast, with a grin that carries decades of love for the game: “Another beautiful day for baseball — and I get to be part of it.”
Leave a Reply