I am heartbroken. I just heard the news that beloved Padres pitcher Trevor Hoffman, the best closer in BASEBALL HISTORY has been traded. HOW could this HAPPEN? True he had some disastrous games last year, but come on folks, HE'S GOT MORE SAVES THAN ANYONE IN BASEBALL HISTORY! He didn't have too many years left in baseball and what he did for San Diego was phenomenal. What he did for baseball was phenomenal.
When I first got to San Diego I hated MLB baseball. I went to a game in 1993 and made jokes about how they lost every single game that year. Of course this was not true but I had no idea what I was talking about. I had no idea what a save was or even what the seventh inning stretch was. But by the time I left San Diego nine years later I was really into baseball. You might even say I worshiped baseball. It was my life, what I lived for. (Something the Lord was to deal with me about later. I realized that anything that exalts itself above the Living God is an idol. Yes, even baseball can become an idol if it's all you live for.) I watched every single Padres game the last three years we were there. If I couldn't watch it, it would be on the radio. (You can hang a star on THAT!) Sometimes I would watch the telecast twice. When they hit a home run the people down the street could hear me yelling. When something went wrong the people down the street could hear me yelling. I loved it all. We would cook hot dogs and french fries and sit on the couch every single night and watch the game together. I never met Trevor Hoffman but I got to know him very well. I got to know his fast ball, his curve ball, his breaking ball. I could pick him out of a line up, as well as all the other members of the team, such as Phil Nevin, Tony Gwynne, John Vanderwal, my favorite, Eric Owens, and of course the skipper, Bruce Bochy.
Before anybody blasts me about Eric Owens, let me just say that I SAW him steal home plate. I saw him look down the baseline towards home plate, realize he had a lefty batter in John VanderWal, saw him realize that the pitcher was a southpaw, and watched as he streaked toward home plate in an all out run for the home team. I still remember that announcer SCREAMING into the TV, HE JUST STOLE HOME PLATE, HE STOLE HOME PLATE, NOBODY EVER STEALS HOME PLATE!
Eric Owens stealing home plate.
But again I digress.
I was there in 1998 to watch the Padres go to the World Series. I heard the cars honking and saw the jam packed streets as they won the final playoff game and went on to the series. I lived right by the stadium, just a mile up the road, so you could hear the screaming and cheering and you could see the blimps passing over my house. Of course they didn't win, but that's beside the point. This blog is not about winning it's about love of the game.
And that's exactly my point. How quick people are to forget how much he did for that team. How quick people are to throw him to the dogs for his last season, which wasn't so good. How many good seasons did he have with them? How many years could he have possibly had left, the man is over forty years old. They could have done it another way. I know it's a business, but some things should be considered before business.
I hate what baseball has become. The stats are messed up, the players are messed up, you should never have to ask yourself, did he really just hit 4000, or was it a steroid 4000. What is real anymore? Is it all an illusion?
I know it wasn't perfect in 1998 when I was there. All the problems were there, just about to rise to the top of the pot like some poisonous bubbling brew and forever change the great American sport.
All I knew was that I loved the game. I loved the green of the field, the roar of the fans, the sound of CHARGE! I loved knowing each player's batting stance, and how the pitcher was going to pitch. I loved the surprise Grand Slam, but even the singles were enough to make me yell. And I really loved the basebrawls. When Phil Nevin threw those OAKLEYS all over the field and screamed that the ump needed glasses, I was standing up, glued to the TV. When he left the field, shedding clothes all the way to the dugout, until he was just wearing pants and shoes, in protest for a bad call, you can bet I was right there.
I had my rally cap and I knew just how to wear it.
In short I just loved the game.
In 2007 I went back to San Diego for vacation. While we were there we bought tickets online for that night's game. When we got to the stadium we found out our tickets were for the wrong night. (We had double checked before we left, we don't know how the mix up occured). We went to the window and the lady told us that we could keep the tickets and come back, or we could exchange and stay for that night's game. We were already downtown so we just decided to go to this game. I will never ever forget it as long as I live. The date was June 5. 2007. We, in exchanging the tickets, had given away our seats to see Trevor Hoffman reach his five hundredth save, and we didn't even know it until we got into the game and it was too late. Major League History, and we actually had the tickets in our hands! And lost them!
I would have given anything to see that game.
I would have given anything to see Trevor play out his last few years in San Diego.
For the Love of the Game.
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