Today, sports fan Steve Schindler applauds the career of Tony
Gwynn and wonders if he has played his last game with the Padres.
I have a West Coast friend who is mad as hell, and he doesn't mind
telling everybody so. He, like millions of other Southern California
natives, has lived 19 years of his life cheering every hit Tony Gwynn ever
had (all 3,108 of them), and the prospect that Gwynn won't be a Padre next
year has him seeing Stanford red.
Gwynn grew up in Southern California. He was born in Los Angeles to kick
off the '60s. Gwynn played schoolboy ball in Long Beach and his college ball
at San Diego State. If you grew up in So Cal, Gwynn is not just a great
baseball player, he is your neighbor. You ate his momma's cookin', and you
have lived vicariously through your buddy's exploits for the last 20 years
of your life.
Gwynn happily has stayed home his entire career and has had a profound
effect on the community around him. Only one other currently active player
(Cal Ripken Jr.) has played on any one team longer than Gwynn. He could have
gone to any of the big-market cities years ago and drawn more wealth and
fame than he has garnered in San Diego. But to Gwynn, fame is relative.
Gwynn never wants to talk about the things he does to better the world
around him. But listen to everyone who knows Gwynn, and you'll hear about
someone who does plenty about things that come within his reach.
Gwynn lives comfortably with his wife, Alicia, and their teenagers high
on a bluff in Poway, Calif. But look more closely, and you see that Gwynn
has other guests in his home. When his niece, nephew and two of his son's
friends had some troubles at home, Gwynn took them into his. Alicia told the
San Diego Tribune that, "Tony wanted to make sure they finished their
schooling, so they moved in with us."
You won't get Gwynn to take any credit for the activities of the Tony and
Alicia Gwynn Foundation or his winning the likes of the Branch Rickey Award,
the USA Magazine "Most Caring Athlete Award" or the Roberto
Clemente Man of the Year Award. But he has left his footprint all over his
So Cal hometown. That's why many affectionately call him "Mr. San
Diego".
Long considered one of baseball's most highly underpaid stars, Gwynn
collected eight NL batting titles, averaged .338, led the Padres to two
World Series appearances, became the 22nd member of the 3,000 hit club, was
a 15-time All-Star and was a five-time Golden Glover in his 19 years with
the Padres.
With his body built by Betty Crocker (200 pounds on a 5-11 frame), Gwynn
has cashed in on his keen eyesight to slow down those splitters and sinkers,
allowing his effortless, fluid, perfectly synchronized swing to keep him in
the hunt for the batting title year after year.
Time, however, catches up with all of us, and time thinks it's sneaking
up on Gwynn. Leg problems have bitten into his playing time and plate
appearances the last few seasons. Nobody makes better contact than Gwynn at
the plate, but the leg woes are beginning to chisel away his effectiveness
on the bases and his speed in the field.
Heading toward his 41st birthday, Gwynn now must ponder what the future
holds for him and where he might fit in. "It's business," Tony
says. "Everybody wants to be nostalgic, but business is business."
Gwynn was one of 45 big leaguers to file for free agency on October 31.
San Diego declined a $6 million option for next season and opted to pay
Gwynn a $2 million buyout. His 2001 contract would have been guaranteed if
he could have made 502 plate appearances in 2000. Leg problems limited Gwynn
to just 127 at-bats, yet he still hit .323 with 17 RBIs and a homer.
This is the first time in his career Gwynn has struck out on his own, and
he is anxious to see what lies ahead for him in free agency. And he is
afraid his future won't be in his hometown.
"It just doesn't look good. I think I'm better than just a pinch
hitter," Gwynn said. But, "For the first time, I've got to look at
my own situation and see what's best for me." It should be no chore for
a team needing some serious offense to slip Gwynn in as a fourth outfielder
and pinch hitter to take advantage of his uncanny bat skills.
"You never know. Nobody might offer me anything," said Gwynn.
"I'll keep an open mind, go about my business and hopefully my phone
will ring and I'll get an opportunity."
That's the most endearing quality of Mr. San Diego. His laid-back
attitude and his desire to just be one of the guys makes him one of the
family in So Cal. Somebody you'd hate to see leave. That's why many San
Diego natives feel it just won't be So Cal anymore without Tony Gwynn.
