Mapping the path

California Baseball: Day 18

San Diego Padres

On the final afternoon of the 2019 road trip that my son and I took to see ballgames in each of California’s 15 Major and Minor League ballparks, I walked through San Diego’s Gaslamp District to a pre-game beer festival at Petco Park’s grassy “Park at the Park” beyond center field, and there I enjoyed a couple of local IPAs on a perfect summer day that would later reveal dramatic baseball skies and end in a victory for my Padres, watched from the best seat I’ve ever had at a Major League game.

It was a pretty good day.

I had visited 14 different ballparks and rooted for all the home teams -- from San Jose to Sacramento, Modesto to Lancaster, Los Angeles to Lake Elsinore. But I would be rooting with a bit more conviction on this night. I spent my first 25 years in San Diego County before moving to the Bay Area. San Diego will always be home to me. Being here on a day like this — the gratification of completing an epic baseball journey, the anticipation of seeing my favorite team in any sport — put a grin of dopey serenity on my face as I walked through the beer-fest crowd. Well, that and the IPA.

I strolled over to the Padres Hall of Fame, a nifty little museum celebrating the history of the franchise. Just out front are replica autographed balls from the Padres’ two National League championship teams, plaques honoring Padres in the baseball Hall of Fame, and a statue of Hall-of-Fame relief pitcher Trevor Hoffman, who had 13 seasons with 30 or more saves for the Padres, including 53 saves in the 1998 championship season.

The Padres can trace their lineage back to 1903, when the minor league Sacramento Salons joined the newly formed Pacific Coast League. In 1915, after seasons in Sacramento, Tacoma, and San Francisco, the team moved to Salt Lake City and became the Bees. The franchise then relocated to Los Angeles in 1926, playing as the Hollywood Stars at the original Wrigley Field, where they were tenants of their PCL rivals, the Los Angeles Angels. In 1935, when the rent became too high, the club moved to San Diego and was renamed the Padres. Over the next 33 years, the Padres won four PCL titles, three of them in the 1960s.

San Diego joined Major League Baseball in 1969 in a four-team expansion that included the Seattle Pilots (now the Milwaukee Brewers), Kansas City Royals, and Montreal Expos (now the Washington Nationals). In 52 seasons, the Padres have not won a single World Series title.

Padres fans have learned to deal with disappointment. The team averaged 101 losses in its first six seasons. These are my first, indelible memories of the Padres, struggling away in their all-yellow uniforms during sparsely attended games inside the new, multi-purpose San Diego Stadium. I can hear stadium announcer John DeMott dramatically proclaiming, “And now… here… come the Padres!” as our ragtag team took the field, rattling off each player’s name quickly, including Venezuelan shortstop “Numberelevenenzooo (Enzo) Hernandez!” But it typically went downhill from there.

The team’s one bright spot was slugger Nate Colbert, whose apparent goal at the plate was to inflict actual pain upon the ball. Colbert was not so much a contact hitter as an “assault and battery” hitter. In 1972, the three-time All-Star hit 38 homers – including five in one double-header -- and drove in 111 runs. Unfortunately, his .250 batting average was also the best the Padres could muster.

I remember lying on the floor of my room as a child during these early years, listening to the last inning of a Padres game on the radio. San Diego was down by three, no runners on, down to their last out and heading to another loss. “C’mon, Padres,” I said to the radio. “Tying run is in the hole!” Three batters away, a faint hope, the slightest chance of success: That’s the kind of thinking you need to do to be a fan of the San Diego Padres.

In the spring of 1978, my dad and I went to Yuma to watch the Padres in Spring Training, right around the time I was learning the throw my first breaking pitch in Little League. In the course of our stay, I managed to get an autograph and have a short chat with former Cy Young Award-winner Randy Jones. Now, I am not saying that I am solely responsible for Jones’ return to form that year -- re-discovering his deadly sinker and lowering his ERA from 4.58 to 2.88 – or the Padres recording their first winning season that year, with accumulated talent like Dave Winfield, Ozzie Smith, Gaylord Perry and Rollie Fingers. But it feels like more than just a coincidence.

My dad and I also went to a lot of college games in those days, mostly San Diego State football and basketball. Both of my parents graduated from SDSU, as did I. One night in 1979, my dad went alone to an Aztecs baseball game and reported back, “You know the point guard for the Aztecs, Tony Gwynn? He plays baseball, too. Apparently, he’s pretty good!”

Still the all-time assist leader in basketball at San Diego State, Gwynn averaged .398 in his three years with the Aztecs. He was drafted by the Padres and San Diego Clippers on the same day in 1981. Gwynn was with the Padres the next year, and in 1983 began a string of 19 seasons in which he hit .309 or better. He hit above .350 every year between 1993 and 1997, including an incredible .394 average in the strike-shortened 1994 season, and finished with a lifetime .338 average. The 15-time All-Star won eight batting titles and five Gold Gloves, and he remains the Padres’ all-time leader in hits, runs, RBI, and stolen bases.

While many top players of the era were perceived as overpaid prima donnas, Gwynn was eminently likeable, affable, and humble -- a gifted and focused professional with a good nature. Moreover, in an age of unprecedented free agency and player movement, Gwynn remained loyal to one, unglamorous team for his entire 20-year career, and played a key role in both of the franchise’s World Series appearances, in 1984 and 1998. He is “Mr. Padre.”

Aglow with memories of the Padres, not to mention the IPAs, I entered Petco Park proper and headed straight for the top deck for a breathtaking view of the ballpark and the gorgeous skyline beyond.

I mean, look at this place!

Opened in 2004 at a cost of $450 million, Petco Park is an outstanding example of baseball architecture, coming once again from modern-ballpark design firm, Populous. But while many of the company’s other examples — Oracle Park, Camden Yards, etc. — lean into a pastoral, old-timey feel, with green seats and red bricks, Petco Park evokes an ocean theme, with blue seats, sandstone exteriors, and light stanchions painted white like sails.

The ballpark is situated in an ideal downtown location, between the ever-lively Gaslamp District and the San Diego Convention Center, just a quarter-mile from San Diego Bay. It has significantly changed the area. I once worked just a block or so from where the ballpark now stands, and walking those streets at night could be an adventure. Now, restaurants, bars, and other developments taking advantage of the prime ballpark location are revitalizing the area.

The broadcast booth at Petco Park is named after legendary Padres radio and television announcer, Jerry Coleman, who called games from 1972 until his death in 2014 — except during the 1980 season, when Coleman managed the team. That would have been considered a life well-lived, but Jerry Coleman was much more.

Coleman’s career in baseball began as a promising young infielder in the Yankees system. In 1942, at the age of 17, he hit .304 with the D-League Wellsville Yankees, then put baseball on hold to enlist with the Marine Corps as a Naval Aviation Cadet. “We got kicked in the ass at Pearl Harbor and like all Americans, I was mad as hell,” Coleman told Military.com. “Maybe a little young and dumb, too, but I couldn't wait to enlist.” Coleman flew a Douglass SBD Dauntless Dive Bomber in 57 combat missions in World War II, taking part in campaigns over Guadalcanal, the Solomon Islands, and the Philippines — earning him two Distinguished Flying Crosses and seven Air Medals.

He returned to the Yankees farm system in 1946 without missing a beat. In 1949, Coleman joined the big-league club at Yankee Stadium, won his first of four World Series rings, and was named Rookie of the Year by the Associated Press. A season later, he was an All-Star and World Series MVP.

In 1953, Coleman was recalled to service and left the Yankees to fly in the Korean War, piloting an AU-1 Corsair ground attack fighter on 63 air-support and strike missions, earning six more Air Medals, the Korean Service Medal with two stars, and the United Nations Service Medal. He remains the only Major League player to see combat in two wars.

Coleman returned to New York to play four more seasons with the Yankees before retiring. Fifteen years later, he began his 42-year third career, announcing for the San Diego Padres.

Jerry Coleman had a way with words. It wasn’t always a good way, but it was his way. His frequent tussles with the English language resulted in malaprops and other amusing gaffes, which became known as “Colemanisms.” A brief selection:

“McCovey swings and misses, and it’s fouled back.”

“Winfield goes back to the wall, he hits his head on the wall and it rolls off! It’s rolling all the way back to second base. This is a terrible thing for the Padres.”

“Johnny Grubb slides into second with a standup double.”

“On the mound is Randy Jones, the left-hander with the Karl Marx hairdo.”

“Mike Caldwell, the Padres’ right-handed southpaw, will pitch tonight.”

“Houston has its largest crowd of the night here this evening.”

Coleman was beloved in San Diego, not just because he was entertaining but because he was a great baseball announcer. His sound was a constant presence during summers in San Diego. It was a casual and comforting patter, laid back and fun-loving — a true companion to the game and this city.

And the gaffes? He didn’t care. It’s a ballgame. We’re all having fun.

I headed down the third-base side to the rooftop of the Western Metal Supply Co. building. Built in 1909, the historic red-brick structure was built into the design of the ballpark and has become one of its most prominent features, hosting restaurants, a bar, a team store, and private suites.

Speaking of restaurants, it was time for me to find dinner. Petco Park has a ton of great options for traditional and specialty ballpark grub. Which local favorite would it be? Hodads burgers? Rubio’s fish tacos? Lucha Libre tacos? Buona Forchetta Neopolitan pizza? Cardiff Seaside Market for tri-tip? Or perhaps the Randy Jones Grill?

I chose Phil’s BBQ for a half rack of ribs, smoked on-site. My mind was too filled with barbecue euphoria to remember to take a photo of this porky goodness before it was nearly gone.

The Padres started left-hander Eric Lauer, a first-round pick in 2016 out of Kent State University. After a stellar Minor League career, Lauer was in the midst of his second full season in the majors, coming into the game with a 5-7 record and a 4.26 ERA.

The Cardinals countered with Michael Wacha, a 2015 All-Star who was struggling in 2019 with a 5-3 record but a 5.59 ERA. Both pitchers began well, notching three scoreless innings. The Cardinals managed to push a run across in the fourth, but it was the only score Lauer allowed in six innings, despite giving up six hits and a walk.

The Padres scored one more run in the eighth through some small-ball offense. The bullpen did its part, shutting down the Cardinals over the final three innings, with Kirby Yates getting his 27th save, on his way to an MLB-leading 41 saves for the year. Final score: San Diego 3, St. Louis 1.

And that was that. One final win for the home team. My home team.

After 1,400 miles of travel and 15 games in 18 days — five Major League games, two Triple-A Pacific Coast League games, and eight High-A California League games — our California Baseball Road Trip was complete. I had seen every Major and Minor League ballpark in California. And while I was happy and relieved with what I had accomplished, I was ready for more.

As of this writing, that final game in San Diego remains the last baseball game I have attended. My dad and I had plans to take a grand tour of the Pacific Northwest in 2020, seeing games in all 10 Major and Minor League ballparks, from Boise to Eugene to Vancouver. We had every route detailed and had just booked our hotels in early March, when Covid-19 became a worldwide pandemic.

But I will be back — not just to see my Padres, but to see as many ballparks as I can, to see fine young talent in funky Minor League uniforms, to enjoy the fun and games between innings, to try all-new, digestion-challenging ballpark concessions, and to experience the many communities supporting their baseball teams and these young players with spirit, camaraderie, and a mutual love for the grand old game.

Highlight Reel

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