I didn’t really know Brooks Robinson. But he changed my life.

The condolence calls and texts started coming in Tuesday night, steady and sad. “Just wanted to send a note letting you know I was thinking of you.” “I just heard.” “I just wanted to say I’m so sorry. I know what he meant to you.” The messages were about Brooks Robinson — Mr. Oriole himself — who died Tuesday at 86, taking an entire city’s heart with him. I only met him once, years ago, and corresponded with him briefly.