MulliganMusings
06-16-2014, 02:47 PM
I have been in a daze ever since I heard the news that Tony Gwynn passed away today at the age of 54 due to cancer. Tony was a player who had a unique bond to his team (Cal Ripken and to some extent Robin Yount come to mind as the only other players who would be in this particular realm) as he basically grew up in front of the citizens of San Diego. First as a great college point guard (he was originally recruited to play basketball and still holds the Aztecs record for career assists) and baseball player at San Diego State and then a 20 year career as a Padre turning down opportunities to make considerably more as a free agent in other markets before becoming retiring as a player and becoming head baseball coach at San Diego State and ultimately entering the HOF on the first ballot.
I had the incredible experience of sitting next to tony on a flight from Las Vegas to San Diego. Frankly, I was in awe but he was incredibly accessible and introduced himself, without any guile, as simply, “Tony.” It wouldn’t be long before I saw his trademark smile and heard his infectious laugh. You would think the man would dread the proverbial “airplane conversation” and I certainly didn’t want to intrude but it wasn’t long before, after finding out that I went to Marquette, that we began a discussion. Indeed, our conversation would not be about baseball. No, instead, my mention of Marquette started a conversation about college basketball. He was also kind enough to provide me with an autograph for my young cousin who as a young boy like so many in San Diego who played baseball, idolized Tony to the point where two of his earliest words were Tony and Gwynn.
So many people will share tributes far more eloquent than anything I can say but I will say a part of my heart broke today and I’m not ashamed to admit I shed a tear (ok more than one) at the news of Tony’s death. Perhaps the best tribute I saw, beyond the amazing stats that made him a Hall of Famer, was from writer Mark Kreidler who said, “The nicest thing I can say about Tony is that every story told of his kindness understates the truth by half. Pure good.” RIP 19 I'm sure he's knocking it through the 5.5 hole up in heaven as I write this.
I had the incredible experience of sitting next to tony on a flight from Las Vegas to San Diego. Frankly, I was in awe but he was incredibly accessible and introduced himself, without any guile, as simply, “Tony.” It wouldn’t be long before I saw his trademark smile and heard his infectious laugh. You would think the man would dread the proverbial “airplane conversation” and I certainly didn’t want to intrude but it wasn’t long before, after finding out that I went to Marquette, that we began a discussion. Indeed, our conversation would not be about baseball. No, instead, my mention of Marquette started a conversation about college basketball. He was also kind enough to provide me with an autograph for my young cousin who as a young boy like so many in San Diego who played baseball, idolized Tony to the point where two of his earliest words were Tony and Gwynn.
So many people will share tributes far more eloquent than anything I can say but I will say a part of my heart broke today and I’m not ashamed to admit I shed a tear (ok more than one) at the news of Tony’s death. Perhaps the best tribute I saw, beyond the amazing stats that made him a Hall of Famer, was from writer Mark Kreidler who said, “The nicest thing I can say about Tony is that every story told of his kindness understates the truth by half. Pure good.” RIP 19 I'm sure he's knocking it through the 5.5 hole up in heaven as I write this.