Death of Wiggins Ends Lonely Story

One of my favorite songs is a lament by Neil Diamond that could have been written with Alan Wiggins in mind, but obviously wasn’t.

It was called “Done Too Soon” and it dealt poignantly with the sadness of passing from this life with so much unfinished business or untapped potential left behind.

Add another verse, Neil, to a young man who was done too soon with his Padre career, then done too soon with his baseball career and ultimately, and finally, done too soon with life.

Alan Wiggins was buried Friday, in the midst of what should have been his 10th off-season as a major league baseball player. After all, he was only 32 years old.

Wiggins should still be playing baseball. He should be down at the stadium taking his cuts in a batting cage. He should be running the steps. He should be lifting some weights. He had that long, lean body that looked like it would stay in shape forever . . . if he took care of it.

He didn’t. That’s the shame of it. Alan Wiggins defeated himself.

OK, so maybe it wasn’t a big surprise that this life ended as tragically and prematurely as it did.

The first clue that there were problems manifested itself in 1982, when he was arrested for cocaine possession and spent two months late in the season in rehabilitation. This cast a cloud over what was otherwise a nice rookie season. But kids make mistakes and Wiggins, at 24, was a kid.

And this kid bounced back.

What could have been wrong in 1983? Nothing, to be sure, was wrong with 1983, not when it came to Wiggins’ performance. He batted .276 and stole 66 bases and played both left field and first base, the latter after Steve Garvey’s injury ended his consecutive game streak.

And guess who was the Padres’ most valuable player in 1983?

Alan Wiggins.

What’s more, his star was shining off the field as well. He worked with the San Diego Police Department in the 1983-84 off-season, lecturing youngsters on the perils of drugs.

Then came 1984, the year when it comes to baseball in San Diego.

Manager Dick Williams’ great experiment was moving Wiggins to second base. Wiggins’ forte was speed rather than quickness. You want a gazelle in the outfield and a cat at second base, and Wiggins was much more gazelle than cat. It was a risky experiment, but Wiggins made it work.

He played the position splendidly and batted .258, scored 106 runs and stole 70 bases. He was such an unsettling presence on the bases that Tony Gwynn, whose .351 average was the best in baseball, batted above .400 when Wiggins was on base.

Who can forget the highlight clip of Wiggins leaping jubilantly in the air after taking the throw from Graig Nettles on the final play of the Padres’ NLCS victory over the Chicago Cubs? This was a happy man on top of his game and seemingly on top of the world.

In truth, this burst of excitement was foreign to Alan Wiggins. He was a moody individual, even in those best of times. He would be cordial in one conversation and sullen the next. He was never the exuberant life of the locker room or bus.

In short, the man went his own way.

There were signs early in the 1985 season that Wiggins’ way was the wrong way. Nearing the end of April, he was batting .081 with nary a stolen base. In retrospect, something was obviously wrong . . . but no one saw it then.

On April 25, with the Padres playing in Los Angeles, he disappeared. Just didn’t show up at the ballpark. And never again wore a Padre uniform.

Alan Wiggins was on the rehabilitation list two days later and traded two months later and out of baseball two years later. He who had soared so brilliantly and briefly had crashed even more swiftly and surely.

No one, his family excepted, of course, knows what these last few years have been like. True to his nature, he was not one of those ex-players who would show up to say hello at spring training or pop up at the batting cage to kibitz. He was out of baseball and out of touch.

There were ex-teammates who would have cared, surely Garry Templeton and Tony Gwynn among them. But they couldn’t have known how far their former teammate had slipped . . . and how little of his life remained.

In the aftermath of his death, in fact, acquaintances were shocked to learn he had been hospitalized since Nov. 29. He would die as he lived . . . off on his own.