Tony Gwynn Thinks of Batting Titles and Padres’ Better Days

Bat in hand, Tony Gwynn walked into the dugout. He sat down with the bat and fidgeted with it for a few minutes, and finally rolled it unceremoniously under the bench.

“Aw,” he said, “I’m not even going to take batting practice today.”

This was out of character. Tony Gwynn without a bat in his hand is a bit like Julian without apples. Incredibly, these phenomena seemed to be occurring simultaneously.

This was early Monday evening, a few hours before the first game of the last week of the season. I had read that Gwynn was going to rest on Monday and Tuesday, taking a mini-vacation of sorts.

Others seemed to have the same idea.

Nothing much was happening. Media and fans alike seemed to be boycotting this game, even though it matched the Padres against their rivals from Los Angeles. A series like this would normally be a big deal.

In another year. Maybe next year. Or the year after.

These teams were--and are--battling to stay out of last place in the National League West. Not much motivation there.

“Here we are,” Gwynn said. “The last three home games against the Dodgers and we’ll probably draw a total of 35,000 to 40,000. Total. This isn’t what the game’s all about.”

No, it hasn’t been a good year.

But Tony, what about the race for the batting championship? This is all anyone playing for this team in this town can win this year. This, too, is a stretch run.

Tim Raines vs. Tony Gwynn vs. Steve Sax.

Raines, of course, had built up a .337-to-.329-to-.326 lead, Gwynn second and Sax third. However, .008 is a substantial margin so late in the season.

But . . .

“I think it would take a miracle now,” Gwynn said. “I’d like to win it again, but . . . “

It might take close to a miracle, I conceded. In fact, to get from .337 down to .328, Raines would have to go hitless in his next 15 at-bats. The best chance for Gwynn to close that gap would be to pick up a few hits and maybe, just maybe, meet and beat the leader at .333 or .334.

After all, batting championships are important. You tell me who finished second when Gwynn’s .351 won it in 1984. That’s what I thought.

There is nothing subjective about a batting championship. Folks can argue Mike Schmidt vs. Gary Carter for Most Valuable Player or Mike Scott vs. Fernando Valenzuela for Cy Young Award, but there will be no argument when the calculators stop clicking on Sunday and someone is the batting king.

It could reasonably be argued that this was hardly an opportune time for Tony Gwynn to be resting against the ropes. It could reasonably be argued that he should have been out in the ring swinging.

Tony Gwynn said he needed a break. A refresher.

“I haven’t hit the ball hard in a long time,” he said. “Probably because I’m tired.”

Gwynn was physically tired and mentally tired, and maybe in a little bit of a mix-up. As a hitter, he is a technician. He takes his swing to his videotape machine for what might be called diagnostic checkups.

In these final weeks, Gwynn has been seeking answers. What he wants to happen has not been happening.

He decided he could take an 0 for 4 or maybe scratch out a 1 for 4 or . . . he could find those answers by getting away from the questions.

He would do that by sliding that bat under the bench, out of sight and hopefully out of mind.

And so he rambled conversationally, sounding much more like a fan than one of the best hitters in the game today. He could have been the guy on the next bar stool, talking about awards and playoffs and trades and free agents and rumors and minor leaguers and split-finger fastballs and statistics. I was tempted to order another round, but I knew better--especially in the Padre dugout.

“I am a big fan,” he said. “I watch a lot of games on the old dish.”

Indeed, he said he watches between 300 and 400 games a year, courtesy of his satellite dish . . . as well as the fact that he has a season ticket, of sorts, to Padre games.

“I love this game,” he said wistfully. “Yesterday reminded me of the last day of the ’84 playoffs. It was crystal clear, maybe just a little on the cool side. It was beautiful.”

Meteorologically, it was quite reminiscent, but there were a couple of differences.

“Big differences,” Gwynn nodded.

Those Padres were on the way to the World Series, and these Padres are on their way home.

“After we lost that World Series,” he said, “I remember thinking how great it was just to be there. It was an opportunity a lot of guys don’t have. Then I started thinking about it, about how we’d been there and how it seemed so easy getting there that we’d be there again.”

He laughed a laugh that was more rueful than mirthful.

“That was two years ago,” he said, “and we ain’t been close. Not even close.”

It was also two years ago when Tony Gwynn was batting champion. Those things are not easy to win either. And Gwynn is close once again.

Tim Raines has the lead, but . . .

“You never know,” Gwynn said.

But what about these two days off?

“I got home last night,” he said, “and started thinking that maybe I shouldn’t sit two out. Maybe I should just sit for one and get back out there.”

Bip Roberts came by. He needed someone to take turns with him in batting practice.

Would Tony Gwynn be interested?

The bat came out from under the bench.