Hey Friend..
I say friend because its probably just YOU reading this. Well I'm back...again..Tell a friend. A lot has happened in the several months since I've stopped blogging. At least personally. Not so much with the Padres in the off season, but since I last blogged The Padres played better, (but not enough to get back to .500 or anything to write home about), extended Huston Street and Carlos Quentin, had their catcher get busted for PEDs, while being linked to a bigger story. Its been so long I could spend days discussing my life, or the Padres, but frankly many people are doing that, in several much finer blogs than mine. So instead of putting in my regurgitated comments about the Marver doc, or discussing the Padres decision to remain relatively quiet this off season, I'm simply going to tell a story.
Many of you know I live in Yuma, AZ, the one time home of the San Diego Padres spring training. It was because of this that I became a true brown, dyed in the wool member of the Friar Faithful. When I was three, Tony Gwynn gave me a ball, and later that season the Padres went to the 1984 World Series. When I was 12 and 13, I was given permission to leave school early to sell sodas, ice cream, peanuts and Cracker Jack in the stadium, and made a decent penny or three. Unfortunately, when I was 13 was of course 1994 if you do the math correctly, and 1994 was a season that did not end well...actually it ended short because of a players strike. Furthermore, it was also the last spring the Padres spent in Yuma. Between the strike and the move, I was mad at baseball and mad at the Padres.
When baseball came back, I couldn't stay long. It was and remains my favorite sport. But I'll be damned if I was gonna root for that no good sad sack franchise that moved out of my home town! I vowed never to set foot in Peoria (the city even, let alone the shared complex with the natural rivals, the hated Mariners) My family decided we were going to start rooting for a different team. The D-Bags weren't yet a wet dream for Jerry Colangelo, and I certainly was not going to jump ship to the team that shall not be named in LA. The Giants were never considered despite not really having a reason to hate them yet, and AL teams were a big, emphatic HELL NO!! So the Colorado Rockies it was!
In the summer of 1995, we had the chance to go to a game at the Murph to watch the Rockies take on the San Diego Deserters. We decked out in purple and silver, and made our way to watch. I don't remember who won that game. I do remember booing Tony Gwynn getting pitched around and basically coming back to my roots as a Padres fan. The Rockies jacket that we took to the game? My memory tells me we left it at the stadium, but one thing I know is that it never touched home again. The point is, I love baseball. I love my Padres more. Its deep in my bones, and often defies logic. I couldn't fully complete a boycott or rooting for another team despite the then ownership directly affecting my wallet and my way of life every spring.
A 36 minute video telling me owners are lying to me is not going to shake me from watching my team. Its an emotional investment through highs and lows, and frankly, I don't give a damn what owners are doing. Would I love to see some top notch players come to San Diego and make a splash? Sure- what fan doesn't want to see that. I'm also a believer in the way SD is attempting to build from a solid foundation of youth, and am mostly in support of how things have gone the last couple years. I'm not an employee of the team. I rather resent that implication to be honest. I'm just a born and bred fan that couldn't give up my team any easier than I could give up breathing. I've been called a fool by a certain fan for believing this way and not supporting a blackout. Fine, I'd rather be a fool and find joy an optimism and hope. and frankly enjoy the game I love, supporting with my heart and, yes, my wallet, the team I love.
