Gwynn Is Back, and the Skeptics Are In Trouble : He Goes 1 for 2, Has Assist, Takes Aim at Opening Day

He already had sharply grounded a ball over the pitcher’s mound and thrown out a runner at second base.

After 15 minutes of Tony Gwynn’s first game in two weeks, there was only one thing left for him and his left index finger to prove Friday afternoon.

As he exited the field to a standing ovation, he carefully wrapped his bandaged hand around the bill of his cap. Yes, he then tipped it.

“All those Mr. Skepticals, Mr. Know-It-Alls, I hope they are sitting at home feeling funny right now,” said Gwynn. “Because I’m back.”

And how.

For five innings Friday, Gwynn wagged his injured finger at monday morning doctors everywhere, leaving out only the nah-nah-nah, which he supplied later.

Just two weeks after tendon surgery that supposedly would keep him out at least a month, he proved he should be ready for a full game by opening day, April 5.

“No,” Gwynn said, “I’ll play nine before then.

“People don’t understand, if I didn’t think I could be back by opening day, I wouldn’t have had the surgery done. I don’t care how painful it was.”

Plain as day, they now understand .

On Friday, he swung without pain, and he had a single in two at-bats.

From right field, he threw without worry. He had the assist at second base and another one-hop throw to home to discourage a runner from scoring. In all, he handled six of seven chances flawlessly.

His only mistake was a grounder that bounced off his leg and allowed a run to score. It was a timing mistake caused by his lack of play. But even in that, there was a blessing.

“Maybe now,” Gwynn said, nursing an ice pack on his lower leg, “everybody will quit asking about my finger and start asking about my shin.”

Fat chance. That he has returned so quickly from such a serious operation will only expound the myth that Tony Gwynn could run around right field with his head cut off.

“He did pretty good, huh?” trainer Dick Dent asked, smiling. “That’s Tony.”

Manager Larry Bowa said, “A pleasant surprise.”

Gwynn even argued like his old self. He went to Larry Duensing, the assistant trainer, after two innings and begged to play more than the scheduled five.

“I saw it coming, and I was ready for it,” Duensing said. “I told him, no way.”’

Gwynn listened. This time. But he said Friday proved to him that he now must take control of his rehabilitation.

“You know, I wanted to play (Thursday), but I had to beg to even play today,” he said. “Everybody has said kick back, relax and come back slow, but that’s a bunch of bull. They want me to take it easy and then jump in there opening night in Houston against a (Nolan) Ryan or a (Mike) Scott? No way. It doesn’t work like that.

“I’m tired of people running my life, tired of them telling me what I can or can’t do. I’m going to start calling my own shots.”

Gwynn noted that because his was an operation rarely performed on athletes, nobody had proof of how long his recovery should be, and nobody wanted to take a chance on rushing him.

“Everybody has been afraid to put their whatever on the line but me,” Gwynn said. “The doctors have said they haven’t done this on many athletes. But I like to think I had more fire than other athletes. So I’m doing it my way.”

Not that it’s all batting titles and Gold Gloves just yet. If it was, the Padres would have included outfielder Shawn Abner with five other cuts Friday.

“Abner is being kept until we are sure Tony can go opening day,’ said Bowa. “If Tony is fine, Abner is going down. That is Abner’s role.”

Gwynn concedes that, even though he feels he’ll be ready by then, he won’t be “ready ready.”

“I’m not going to be 100%. That will take a couple of more weeks,” Gwynn said. “I’ve already missed two weeks. I’ll have to catch up on my timing and things like that.”

Batting, he says, is no problem. But throwing still bothers him.

“I can’t grip the ball the way I want,” he said, “so I’m not sure where the ball is going when I throw it.”