Farewell, Mr. Padre

I knew this day was always a possibility, but I never wanted to believe it would actually happen. I don't generally read the news or check my cell phone during the day until I leave work to grab a bite to eat. That's when I saw the text message from my dad.

"Did you hear Tony Gwynn died?"

No...I had not. Nor was I prepared for that kind of news. My heart sank and I quickly searched the Internet for confirmation. I already knew it was true. My dad would never text that unless he was certain. Tony Gwynn, my childhood hero, and the reason that I have been a Padres fan since I was 9 years old, was gone.

Growing up near Waterloo, Iowa, I never heard much about the Padres, or Tony Gwynn for that matter. In August of 1989, while in San Diego visiting some relatives, my dad took me to my first Major League game at Jack Murphy Stadium. It didn't take me long to learn who number 19 was and what made him so special. No, Tony wasn't flashy, and he likely wasn't going to muscle a fastball 10 rows up into the right field seats . He simply cared about doing all of the little things right, both on and off the field. Tony was everything you would want in a role model. He worked hard, tirelessly studying to perfect his craft, knowing full well that perfection was unattainable. On multiple occasions, Tony could have easily left the Padres for more money and better odds of a World Series championship somewhere else...but he didn't. Tony Gwynn didn't need San Diego, but San Diego needed Tony Gwynn. Without Tony Gwynn, the Padres might not even exist anymore. It was never about the money or the fame with Tony. It was about his dedication to family, his dedication to the community, and his dedication to the Padres organization and its fans.

When I got home this evening, it was the first time that I had really been alone since I heard the heartbreaking news. I opened my laptop, found a Tony Gwynn tribute video, and immediately started to bawl my eyes out in a way that I had not done since I was a child. Supermen like Tony are supposed to overcome all odds and live forever, and the reality that the man responsible for making me a Padres fan for the past 25 years was suddenly gone was more than I could bear.

What I wouldn't give to hear Tony talk about hitting one more time, peppered with his trademark chuckle. Heaven gained one heck of an All-Star, and we should all feel fortunate that, for years, we had the privilege of calling Tony Gwynn,"our guy". Farewell, Mr. Padre. We love you more than you will ever know.