Opening Day Can Bring Out the Best . . . and Worst

Opening Day is special.

Opening Day is when 50,000 people come to a game without the lure of beach towels or Beach Boys.

Opening Day is when the governor comes.

Opening Day is when you have to arrive four hours early or park at Mission San Diego, Mission Valley Center or Mission Viejo . . . and walk.

Opening Day is when teams like the Padres, Rangers and Indians get to use that red, white and blue bunting that teams like the Athletics, Mets and Red Sox get to use in October.

Opening Day is when the pitching staff’s ace is identified, because he will have the honor of being on the mound.

Opening Day is the first press box no-hit pool as Eddie Lee Whitson breezes through three hitless innings.

Opening Day is Kevin Mitchell being Kevin Mitchell.

Opening Day is when there are so many tuxedos you wonder if you have inadvertently stumbled on Sea World’s penguin exhibit.

Opening Day is when the game starts at 7:35 because it takes 30 minutes to get all the owners through the buffet in their private box.

Opening Day should never be at night.

Opening Day is when real baseball fans stay home. (Clue: Real fans don’t do waves, and Tuesday night’s crowd tried to resist but couldn’t.)

Opening Day is when fans in Detroit can put away their parkas and shovels . . . warily.

Opening Day is more inane Padre songs on the club’s flagship station, causing listeners with beyond a second grade mentally to be thankful for buttons on their car radios.

Opening Day is when the grass is greener and sweeter.

Opening Day means fresh paint, only this time a different color.

Opening Day is a fashion show for new uniforms.

Opening Day is video skateboard racing on the scoreboard, a hokey feature which should be packed away with the old uniforms.

Opening Day is a talent show for new players.

Opening Day is Tony Fernandez, Fred McGriff and Jim Presley all getting hits in their first Padre at-bats.

Opening Day is a coming out party for young players.

Opening Day means the NBA season is only three or four months from being finished.

Opening Day is a herd of television cameras getting sound bites of players saying Opening Day is special.

Opening Day means Tony Gwynn is 23 again.

Opening Day means the rest of us are 13 again.

Opening Day introduces Tony Fernandez, the third Opening Day shortstop in 14 years.

Opening Day is the first for Greg Riddoch as manager, the eighth manager in those 14 years. Only two, Jack McKeon and the man he replaced, failed to make it to closing day.

Opening Day is always a new third baseman and center fielder, at least for the last five years in a row. Meet Jim Presley and Shawn Abner.

Opening Day is kids chasing batting practice home runs in the left field seats.

Opening Day is those kids discovering a new hero . . . Jerald Clark.

Opening Day is Padre fans recognizing an old villain, vigorously booing San Francisco pitcher Jeff Brantley, his pitch having rudely punctuated Benito Santiago’s 1990 season.

Opening Day is Padre fans recognizing an old friend, giving Garry Templeton a much more than courteous ovation when he is introduced as the first of the reserves.

Opening Day is managing general partner Tom Werner cringing when asked who was going to sing the National Anthem. (The answer: Navy Lt. Kelley Spellman, quite nicely, thank you.)

Opening Day is a magnifying glass, distorting all that will follow.

Opening Day, you see, is no more important than the 161 to follow . . . nor any less important. It’s the first stitch in the tapestry of the season, or both the individuals and the team.

Opening Day isn’t really about a game at all.

Opening Day is a party.

Opening Day is a spectacle.

And this Opening Day is a little bit, or a whole lot, of a celebration as well.

Opening Day is an opportunity to honor San Diego’s military for teir role in something much bigger than a game.

Opening Day is Americana.

Opening Day is a tribute to Desert Storm.

Opening Day is drums and bugles and a giant American flag unraveling during Lt. Spellman’s singing of the National Anthem.

Opening Day is Gov. Pete Wilson going to the mound to throw out the first pitch and then calling upon the season’s first relief pitcher.

Opening Day is Chief Warrant Officer Guy Hunter, a prisonor of war for 47 days in Kuwait and Iraq, getting a standing ovation as he walks to the mound.

Opening Day is Hunter throwing a perfect strike three feet off the plate and seven feet off the ground.

Everything, after all, is perfect.

Opening Day is Opening Day.

What could be more perfect for opening than Benito Santiago driving in the go-ahead run off that villain who had broken his arm last summer?