By Tim Sullivan
SAN DIEGO UNION-TRIBUNE
July 28, 2007
COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. – Tony Gwynn is undecided about his suit. He might wear the blue one. He might wear brown.
Now that his immortality is imminent, a ballplayer who became synonymous with meticulous preparation has suddenly gone all spontaneous on us. Tony Gwynn has written no speech for tomorrow's Hall of Fame inductions, choosing instead to rely on a broad outline of bullet points.
Rain or shine, blue or brown, he will be speaking off the cuff.
“He said he's just going to speak from the heart and that's good enough. I guess,” said John Boggs, Gwynn's longtime agent. “I keep thinking, 'Are you sure?' I've been here so many times in the past and you look out there (at the crowd) and it's like Woodstock.”
Imagine (weather permitting) a throng that would overflow Petco Park spilling out into a town barely big enough for its single stoplight. Imagine hundreds and hundreds of Padres pilgrims traveling cross-country, only to be jostled on the sidewalks and gouged in the shops, only to commute 90 miles for a bed, just to bear witness to a baseball speech.
Then try to imagine Tony Gwynn maintaining his composure, keeping his train of thought on track, winging it from the lectern without committing some significant oratorical oversight.
If Gwynn can pull all that off without a major glitch or a Louisville Slugger-size lump in his throat, his eight batting titles will look easy by comparison.
Gwynn says he “gets it,” that he appreciates the magnitude of the event and the sacrifice so many of his fans have made to take part, but there's a part of this spectacle he can't fully fathom from his high-security hotel on Lake Otsego. There's a part of this that speaks to an extraordinary bond between a ballplayer and his public.
While Gwynn was unwinding from his (private) jet lag Thursday night, watching DVDs of “Law & Order” in his hotel room, his fans were filling red-eyes and finding bus stops and negotiating narrow roads to pay homage to their hero. To say San Diego fans went the extra mile for No. 19 understates the distance between the ballpark at 19 Tony Gwynn Drive and the baseball museum at 25 Main Street by almost a continent. According to Yahoo maps, that trip entails 2,830.8 extra miles.
Lounging in a red leather chair yesterday afternoon, Gwynn was asked why so many would come so far to bear witness to his induction ceremony.
“I think that's about respect,” he said. “I think that's about them feeling that I did the right thing.”
With all due respect, I think that's a crock. This isn't about respect, but reverence. This isn't about doing the right thing so much as striking the right chords with a ringing emotional resonance.
At the risk of getting all mushy over Mr. Padre, the operative word here is “love.”
“We always loved Tony,” said Escondido's Bruce Martin, invoking the first person plural to include his wife, Andrea. “The Padres wouldn't be (in San Diego) without Tony, in my opinion. They would have gone. He was the reason we went to the games. When he gets to the Mecca of baseball forever, we need to be there.”
For the serious baseball fan, Cooperstown is not so much a decision as a reflex. Standing outside the Hall of Fame between rainstorms yesterday, Martin said he knew he would make this trip on the day Gwynn retired in 2001.
“Like the saying goes,” Andrea Martin explained, “Seeing your boy get in the Hall of Fame: Priceless.”
Tom Horn, Garrett Kovar and Gabe Kunde, three San Diegans who strolled the streets of Cooperstown yesterday in vintage 1984 Padres jerseys, expressed a similar imperative. Like the Martins, their trip was not a choice so much as a compulsion.
Because Kunde manages the Padres' ticket office, the three men were able to obtain invitations for the club's reception for Gwynn this afternoon. Because Kunde has not yet spent 10 years with the team, he is traveling on his own dime.
Bill Homan and Ryan Sweeney, both a decade removed from their studies at USD, decided to attend the inductions because they had already visited almost all of the big league ballparks.
“I bought a Gwynn throwback collectible jersey,” Homan said. “I didn't wear it today because I didn't want it to get gamey (before the ceremonies) . . .
“We were actually thinking about sleeping in the car to make sure we got good seats Sunday morning.”
These are grown men contemplating a college stunt because of a connection that borders on obsession. This is the sort of thing Tony Gwynn misses by watching “Law & Order” instead of mingling with the man in the street.
“I'm not sequestered,” he said yesterday. “I'm doing what I think is probably in the best interests of my psyche. You get out among the masses, you get emotional. I need to think about what I need to do.
“Right now, I don't need to be emotional. I don't need people to tell me what's coming. I just need to suck it up and enjoy.”
And, in due time, he needs to select a suit.
Tim Sullivan: (619) 293-1033; tim.sullivan@uniontrib.com
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