That darn smile.
Tony Gwynn was always smiling. Beyond the baseball card statistics, it’s Gwynn’s joyful grin that will always be remembered.
Baseball lost one of its best Monday morning. Gwynn passed away at age 54, much too soon. He succumbed to cancer.
While most professional athletes today vacation to exotic lands after their playing days, Gwynn did not. “Mr. Padre,” as he was affectionately called after his team’s mascot, was forever a true son of San Diego. Instead of spending his golden years along the beach, he suited back up. Only two years removed from his retirement, Gwynn began coaching his alma mater, San Diego State, in 2003. He remained in that post until his untimely death.
In many ways, Gwynn didn’t quite belong in his time. He was often overshadowed by the homerun-hitting craze of the 1990s. His sex appeal didn’t match that of Mark McGwire, Barry Bonds, Sammy Sosa, Jose Canseco, and Ken Griffey, Jr., who slugged balls out of every ballpark throughout the decade. All the while, Gwynn just quietly put together four straight seasons hitting .350 or above. He even hit .394 in 1994, chasing the elusive .400 mark.
He won an astounding eight batting titles, but never a World Series or the MVP title.
Gwynn’s career numbers are quite absurd: 19 straight seasons hitting .300 or above, 15 All-Star games, four gold gloves, 3,141 career hits, and a .338 career batting average.
Oh yeah, he had only 434 strikeouts in 9,288 at-bats. Yes, you did read that correctly. He reached base 38 percent of the time, while striking out only a mere 4 percent of the time (Noted strikeout victim Adam Dunn, please take notes).
He was simply flawless.
I distinctly remember Gwynn’s chase for hit number 3,000 in 1999. Gwynn rolled into my home town of St. Louis in August with 2,994 hits. He’d leave with 2,999, narrowly missing his 3,000th in the confines of the old Busch Stadium. But as a 6 year old infatuated with the game, I didn’t need to see the 3,000th hit to know this guy was good. At that age, I couldn’t quite comprehend the totality of the player, but I knew enough.
My fondness for Gwynn grew as Tony Gwynn, Jr., his son, came up as rookie in 2006 for the Milwaukee Brewers, a rival of my St. Louis Cardinals. I remember the proud pop being present at some of those games. As the camera rolled on him, there was that famous smile. His gentle and kind nature might be what we remember most. Gwynn was always full of joy. For him, the game was fun.
Back home in St. Louis, we love our own Stan Musial: baseball’s perfect knight. baseball’s perfect warrior, Major League Baseball Commissioner Ford Frick once called him. If ever there was someone else who embodied those words, it was Gwynn. Give him a hearty welcome upstairs, Stan.
