R.I.P. Preston Gomez - 1923-2009

There exists an echelon, a level of extreme standard quality baseball man; not quite a star, but definitely men who can be considered "Those Who Served." We're talking about those for whom the more knowledgeable fan would know at least one notable anecdote. Bucky Dent's Sox-killing homer, Ralph Branca's hanging heater to Bobby Thompson in the '51 one-game playoff, Ron Hunt's 50 times being hit by a pitch in one season...the game is riddled with these guys.

They aren't bums. They aren't legends. In most cases they are players who had a few above-average seasons, or at least had a particular talent. But forever they are known for that ONE instance; the one bit of trivia that will accompany (or hound) them throughout their lives, no matter what they accomplish. A couple more examples: Chris Webber's "time out," Joe Pisarcik's brilliant decision to blow off that "take a knee" jazz and try for a last second stunner, and of course, Fred Merkle's celebrated boner.

Original San Diego Padres manager Preston Gomez, a career baseball man in the truest sense of the word. He was a manager, scout, player, asssistant, ambassador...you name it. Peripatetic beyond the metaphoric to the possibly literal, Gomez was a respected lifer whose knowledge and manner touched several generations of players as well as fans.

But as with so many whom devoted their lives to the good of the game, Gomez will forever be linked to the night in 1970 -- the second year of the fledgling major league Padres existence-- when faced with either allowing his dominant starter to stay in for the 9th inning whilst pitching a no-hitter or yanking him for a pinch-hitter to try and get some offense cooking, he chose the latter. Of course, the sub rolled snake eyes, and the no-no was gone in the next inning, but for ages Preston Gomez' name was held as an icon of San Diego's short-sighted failures as a franchise.

Unfair, you bet. For although his career as a manager never dipped him over to the plus side of the wins column, it can safely be stated that his stature as a respected professional was what kept him employed throughout his life, no matter his managerial record.

As a Padres fan for life, I recognize the baseball world is tonight missing a man who gave his all to the game he loved. And for all the right reasons.

Hells Brews

You gotta think, with a legacy including 550+ saves, some impressive 9th inning moments and a few car dealership radio spots, a true TRUE Padres fan would mourn the loss of the most prolific closer in the history of the game JUST a tad more than the current "Holy shit, so glad THAT'S over with" feeling coursing through the veins of a healthy % of SD-ers right now.

But no, this is the 101 case study of the guest that wouldn't leave. Ozymandian in its poignancy, The Bell (Yes! Literally AND figuratively!) ringing on Trevor Hoffman's San Diego Padres career has been a long time coming and is quite welcome to any fan who actually had to watch his last few years. We loved him. We gave him cords and leagues of rope, but it JUST. HAD. TO. END.

He's the Brewers problem now. No more slow starts, blowing of the real easy ones (which for him constituted almost ALL of his saves), whilst embarrassing our already fragile-egoed burg on the National stage (World Series, All-Star games, playoffs, one-game-to-get-into-the-playoffs...), and lest any TRUE fan forget, the "We need a lights-out pitcher" 8th inning with no game on the line fiascoes. Sure, he could polish the pearl on the three-run 9th frame leads, but he also had a snappy knack for making you wonder why any manager would shove a guy out there whose fastball was slower than his changeup.

Mind you now, LOVE Trevor and all he has done for our Padres; giving us a modicum of stability, having an amazing 1998 (not counting any pitches to actual New York Yankees), giving his older brother a job...but you just gotta know when to hang it up. And Trevor hung his breaking ball up in the zone too often for me to miss him all that much at this point.