Written the night the Dodgers drubbed our boys 8-0 in game 4 of the NLDS
Game 5 tomorrow night at Doyer Stadium
My first recollections of being worthy of being called a “Padre fan” are from 1971 at San Diego Stadium in Mission Valley. Here are some things I recall about that season and the rest of the 1970s:
- Pete Rose signing my game program in front a packed throng of 2,000 youngsters skipping school like me (and a few diehards from old the Lane Field PCL days).
- “NummmberelevvvennnnnEnzoooooHernaaaaandezzz!!!”
- Listening to Jerry Coleman calling a game under the sheets with a transisitor radio, when I supposed to be asleep. Most of the time I was also keeping score.
- Getting sick and tired of being sick and tired of being beaten up on by Dodger Blue and the Big Red Machine every single year. It was like the Dems and Repubs coming at us from both sides, and here we are in brown and yellow just trying to get a little respect.
- If I remember correctly the Reds took us 17 out of 18 one year. I got the feeling they could have beaten us playing only seven men against our nine, and even giving us the choice of which seven.
- Nate Colbert’s home runs. Holy moly. 370 to the alleys and 420 to dead center, with a 20 foot wall from pole to pole. No batting gloves, no ear flaps or elbow pads, and no doubters.
- The “Taco Bell” uniforms. At least there were the Expos, Astros, and White Sox to laugh at.
- My 1975 Boston Red Sox/Cincinnati Reds World Series scorebook, with “FUCK!!!” scrawled across the last inning of Game 7’s box score, professionally authenticated by sub-electron microscopy to be the block printing of yours truly at just shy of 14 years of age. Such language!
- Hawking wire racks full of sweaty dripping sticky Cokes in flimsy wax paper cups with melted ice and hair net lids up Mt. Everest (or was it the upper deck at Jack Murphy Stadium?) on hot summer days for $2.50/hour, plus a comission starting on your fifth rack sold, which never happened even once.
- Getting to go in the stadium before all the fans because I worked there.
- Dave Winfield seeming to only drive in runs after we were behind by 8 or more, in other words pretty much every game.
- Randy Jones. What a shame that we only got him really good for two years. It was so fun to watch him befuddle hitters with 80mph stuff. If only he and T. Gwynn could have squared off, now that would have been must watch TV.
- In 1978 we had our first ever winning season and only finished 20-some games out of first. Woohoo!!! (Which by the way was the beginning of the trend of doing well only in even number years, which continues to this day.)
So Friday night it is... by Saturday morning all of us Padre fans at the PBSC/CSC Tourmaline Club Challenge will either be elated or deflated... I predict the former, and I just hope Chavez Ravine doesn't become Riot Central in the aftermath!
vince
