Gwynn Jr. grows up
In the guts of what was Jack Murphy Stadium, Tony Gwynn's locker was in the right corner of the clubhouse, right next to the manager's door. There were a lot of days when a reporter would walk in looking for the batting champion, and instead you'd find his son Anthony, 10 years old, sprawled in the director's chair, one of the many kids who had the run of the major league park in the summer, when school was out.
And about 20 feet away from that, in the summer of 1993, was a locker which belonged to one of the Padres' many newcomers -- a reliever from the Florida Marlins, Trevor Hoffman. He had the body of a boxer and the unusual habit of showing up early and completing his first workout of the day at about the same time that some of his teammates were walking into The Murph.
I covered the Padres in 1993 and 1994 and thought about those days Saturday as Tony Gwynn Jr. came to bat as a pinch hitter in the bottom of the ninth -- how many times the paths of Hoffman and Anthony must've crossed through the years. Thousands. Tens of thousands. Trevor, always gregarious, saying hi as he came through the clubhouse door; Trevor laughingly telling Anthony and his own kids to slow down as they ran through the clubhouse and hallways; Anthony spraying line drives, as he took some early batting practice with his father, while Trevor worked out in the outfield, with his football drills; Anthony and Trevor chasing after the same fly balls during batting practice.
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Buster Olney
