Afterword: San Diego Padres: The First Half-Century

There are no Padre gods, but being a Padre fan feels something like a religion to me.

There is no scripture, sanctuary or ritual. There is faith.

When I was a child growing up in San Diego, the Padres marketing department asked me to keep it – the faith, that is.

I did. I have. Not for the marketing department.

For me.

Faith is easiest for a child because children have little sense of cruelty, heartache, and random tragedy. Adulthood brings this and more, testing faith and belief with every tear. When age advances and the end draws near, faith returns and innocence is a quiet indulgence and nostalgic daydream.

I have loved the Padres for 50 years and somehow kept my innocence and faith about them and little else. That is by turns mildly poetic and patently pathetic.

Owners have not inspired my faith but, as if conspiring across the decades, tried to kill it. Players inspired some of it; but the demi-gods were always out-numbered by the semi-blobs.

For every Tony Gwynn, Greg Maddux, Ozzie Smith, Dave Winfield, Ricky Henderson, Rollie Fingers, Willie McCovey, Craig Nettles, Steve Garvey, Greg Vaughn, Steve Finley, Roberto Alomar, Trevor Hoffman, Cito Gaston, Randy Jones, Ken Caminiti Jake Peavy or Gaylord Perry there were dozens more like Broderick Perkins, Archi Cianfrocco, Bob Barton, Enzo Hernandez, Oscar Gamble, Rich Troedson, Dann Bilardello, Juan Eichelberger, Danny Frisella, Tito Fuentes, Doug Gwosdz, Adam Hyzdu, Fred Kuhaulua, Eddie Oropesa, Termel Sledge, Gene Locklear, Brian Tollberg, and Ed Wojna.

What is the source of this faith?

Certainly not wins and losses. In 50 years the Padres have won 3,661 games and lost 4,284 for a .461 winning percentage, dead last among all MLB franchises. Its expansion brother, the Montreal Expos (now the Washington Nationals), have won 3,884 games and lost 4,080 for a .488 winning percentage – good enough for 17th place. As a bit of solace, only 13 franchises have a career winning percentage at or above of .500 – two have exactly that, the Atlanta Braves and Los Angeles Angels of El Segundo (wait, it’s Anaheim). The Padres have won two pennants and amassed a World Series record of 1-8. The last time the Padres were in the World Series Dennis Rodman and Carmen Electra were married (okay, for only nine days).

It’s not the owners, it’s not the players, it’s not the record, it’s not post-season glory. What then? What keeps the Padres faithful….faithful?

It starts with the Swinging Friar, the greatest logo in major-league baseball history. It epitomizes optimism and faith. See the Friar’s eyes tilted upward, ever hopeful. See his sandal-covered feet, humble, coiled, balanced and vaguely balletic. Can you behold this and lose hope? You cannot. It does not matter that Padres logos have evolved (I say devolved!) from this original gem. It persists because long-time fans cherish it and new fans cannot avoid its irrepressible charms.

Faith is also about The Chicken. For those of us who remember his comedic stylings and playful fan interactions, it was a tonic for the times (the dawn of disco) and the dismal 1974 product on the field. In 1979 after a radio station firing and subsequent litigation, the Chicken was hatched anew (a drama far more compelling than the team in question) to the tune of Also Sprach Zarathrustra? What major-league franchise has carried out an unofficial, sold-out mascot reboot like that? Answer: None.

The point about loving the Padres is it has always been about the intangibles – or the additives. Baseball is at the center of it, of course, but not winning baseball. Being baseball. Being baseball in San Diego. Being in a place of sunshine, touched by a subtle sea breeze and feeling a sense of belonging both deeper and more trivial than craven competition. To love the Padres takes faith and innocence, endurance and good humor. It also comes with gratitude for the unexpected. Padre fans do not begin each season confident of success but hopeful the season to come, like life itself, will not turn out as badly as we fear. Being a Padre fan is, in essence, an under-appreciated existential challenge. How many franchises have produced that? Don’t say the Chicago Cubs or Boston Red Sox. Decades between World Series glory and dog-eared myths about curses of the Bambino or Black Cat do not count. Why? Because glory, no matter how distant, sustains. What sustains in the absence of glory and the myths that arise from its wispy memory? Only Padres fans know.

Which brings us to the present. Can the Padres know a better, richer future in their next 50 years? How could they not? The law of averages strongly suggests no 50 years could be as futile as these first 50. Of course, that same law would have said the same about the first 25 years.

The farm system circa 2019 has never been better. There is a veritable horn of plenty. Management has patiently assembled the best collection of can’t-miss stars in Padres history. For the first time in my memory, the Padres have too many qualified outfielders, middle infielders and catchers (but still no reliable third baseman…in 50 years we’ve only had two: Nettles and Caminiti – Doug Rader, Ed Spezio, and Kevin Kouzmanoff do not count). This means the Padres have the talent to trade for front-line starting pitchers and relievers – and can therefore contemplate years of competitive, dare I say winning baseball

What’s more, I have every confidence the current front office will not do what wasn’t done in 1998 when the Padres did not trade for future Hall of Famer Randy Johnson. Johnson was about to be a free agent and the team willing to jettison him, the Seattle Mariners, asked for Ruben Rivera, a minor league phenom who for three years (1995 to 1997) was on Baseball America’s top-10 prospect list. In ’95 Rivera was No. 2 on that list, behind Alex Rodriguez and ahead of Derek Jeter (who we will come back to in a moment).

Instead of trading for Johnson and having him serve as the starter behind ace Kevin Brown, the Padres planned for the future, kept Rivera and saw the Houston Astros sign Johnson at the trade deadline. Johnson pitched two NL Division Series games against the Padres, gave up only three earned runs and, unbelievably, lost both games. The Padres went onto to the World Series and could have faced the Yankees with Brown and Johnson in Games One, Two, Five, and Six. No one knows how that would have turned out, but we can be fairly certain the Padres would not have been swept (Andy Ashby, the actual Game Two starter, was, charitably, no “Big Unit”).

The Padres held fruitlessly onto Rivera until releasing him 2001. He landed with his first club, the Yankees, in 2002 whereupon he became the inglorious answer to this Happy Hour trivia question: Who stole Derek Jeter’s bat and glove during spring training and sold them for $2,500? For that the Padres of 1998 could have had Randy Johnson and possibly a World Championship.

I am certain the front office contemplating the Padres 51st year and all the years immediately to follow will not make the same mistake. The Padres have assembled two clubhouses worth of top-notch minor league talent. The club, for the first time in franchise history, is in the skimming-the-cream-off-the-top business. After the skimming will come the trading.

And after 50 years of faith and innocence, will come our just desserts.

MAJOR GARRETT is the Chief Washington Correspondent for CBS News. He is a San Diego native and lifelong Padres fan.