Tony! 35th Anniversary

My book with Hall of Famer Tony Gwynn was released this week in 1987. Here are my reflections of the book with the greatest player in Padres history and one of the greatest hitters in baseball history

Jan 07, 2022

It was 35 years ago this week of the publication of Tony!, the pictorial biography I wrote with iconic baseball Hall of Famer Tony Gwynn.

I note the anniversary with some pride, wistful sentimentality and more than a fair amount of sadness. Anthony Keith Gwynn, 15 time All-Star, eight-time National League Batting Champion, five-time Rawlings Gold Glove winner, “Mr. Padre,” sadly passed away in June, 2014 after a long battle with throat cancer. He was 54 years old.

He was everybody’s favorite Padre. Inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 2007. A statue stands outside Petco Park. An adjoining street is named after him. A legend.

He was also my friend.

The (My) Story behind Tony!

There have been other books written with and/or about Tony Gwynn (see Postcript below), as befitting any sports legend. All worthwhile reads by skilled, prolific writers.

But mine was the first.

In 1986, Tony was still very young (26). He was a brilliant young star whose remarkable bat skills and ebullient personality made him an instant favorite of fans and media. Tony was in his fifth year with the Padres, a career which began in July, 1982. But after an injury-shortened season in 1983 (broken wrist), he finally came to prominence in the Padres first pennant-winning season in 1984. He batted .351 and won his first of eight batting titles.

The Phone Call

The book came about as a result of an accident ... a phone call to the Padres offices which mistakenly was routed to me. Call it fate, kismet, dumb luck, whatever you like, but that call came to me.

It turned out to be one of the most fortuitous mistakes of my life.

The book came about as a result of an accident ... a phone call to the Padres offices which mistakenly was routed to me. Call it fate, kismet, dumb luck, whatever you like, but that call came to me.
It turned out to be one of the most fortuitous mistakes of my life.

At that time – March, 1986 – I was the Padres Director of Community Relations and Publications. It was my fourth year with the club, having been hired as a Public Relations Assistant in June, 1982. I wrote and edited all club publications as well served as liaison between the Padres and San Diego’s charity and civic organizations. So I had daily contact with the players. I even traveled with the team for the first couple of years.

The team was in Spring Training in Yuma, AZ at the time. However, I was in San Diego finalizing the 1986 Padres Yearbook. My phone rang one afternoon. At the other end was an editor with Contemporary Books in Chicago, IL. I assumed he was looking for Bill (Boomer) Beck, who was the Padres P.R. director at the time. But Boomer was in Yuma.

The editor (his name long forgotten) explained Contemporary had an idea of publishing a series of “pictorial biographies” of some of baseball’s rising stars, such as Dwight Gooden of the Mets and Steve Sax of the Dodgers. They wanted to do a similar book with Tony Gwynn, and were looking for a ghost writer.

My first thought was of the Padres beat writers Phil Collier (San Diego Union), or Bill Weurding (Tribune).

Those two were quickly erased by my second thought … “why not me?”

I described to the editor my background as a writer, my proximity to the players and specifically my special relationship with Tony. I had already written several pieces on Tony for Padres Magazine … but it went beyond that. Tony was a friend. Usually when a team official approaches a player that staffer wants something …. an autograph, or a special request. I avoided that. Often I’d wander down to the clubhouse before games just to B.S. with Tony and others. That’s how I also forged special friendships with Tim Flannery, Kurt Bevacqua, Dave Dravecky and Eric Show. All were guests at my wedding.

Long story short, the editor agreed. A phone call to Garvey Marketing Group’s agent John Boggs and an agreement was quickly made. I would write the book in Tony’s first person voice, and a modest advance of $15,000 was submitted.

The Billiard Interviews

Prior to my hiring by the Padres, I worked for the San Diego Union’s sports department for several years while I inched my way through college at San Diego State. So I learned how to write from some of the industry’s best: Jack Murphy, San Diego sports icon, was the Sports Editor and my boss. I also worked alongside great sportswriters, guys like Jerry Magee (Chargers), Collier (Padres), Wayne Lockwood (columnist and Gulls/Mariners) and Joe Hamelin (Clippers).

More importantly, these men taught me professionalism, how to conduct myself as a journalist, and how to carry myself around famous athletes. I was never star struck during my sports career.

So during the summer when the club was in town I arranged to interview Tony at his house in Poway. For those too young to remember, Tony was energetic and animated. I hesitate to use the word “fidgety,” but at that time (he was 26) he found it difficult to talk in long stretches while sitting down. After all, he had two young children – Anthony, Jr. (4) and newborn Anisha Nicole running around – along with wife Alicia.

So we decided to do the interviews over his pool table. It was in his “man cave.” I had a cassette recorder (remember those?), so I set it up on a chair, pushed ‘record’ and away we went. We started chronologically, beginning with his childhood, his parents Charles and Vendella, and his brothers Charles, Jr. and Chris, growing up in Los Angeles and later, Long Beach.

Question begat question … all between calls of “seven ball, side pocket.” Thirteen hours of non-stop talking over four nights of “Eight Ball.” Listen to the tapes today and they’re interspersed with the clicking and ricochets of billiard balls.

The Best stories

Meantime, I was getting 14 carat gold on tape. Stories rolled out as balls skittered. Stories nobody knew about before. For example …

Like most households with boys, he and his brothers constantly competed. They invented a backyard game called “Sockball” … where they’d pitch and hit with rolled up socks. I’d played wiffle ball as a kid, so I could relate.
Tony playing “Sockball” in the backyard in Long Beach age 14. The swing was there ...

When it wasn’t “Sockball,” it was basketball with his brothers and neighbors. Tony would laugh out loud – the high-pitched belly burst we all became familiar with – recalling the playground games. He especially delighted in recalling the name “Glory Hog!” when one guy would shoot too much.

Tony’s nickname in middle school was “Prune.” He didn’t remember how he got it, but when he’d walk toward the playground he would hear “Hey, PRUUUUUUNNNE!”

Tony was a basketball star at Long Beach Poly, and played against a lot of future pros, including Detroit Pistons Bill Laimbeer (pictured) from Palos Verdes High School.
Tony at Long Beach Poly, driving past Palos Verdes Bill Laimbeer.
Some of Tony’s funniest stories were about David (Smokey) Gaines, who was his college basketball coach at SDSU. Gaines came to SDSU from the University of Detroit. Smokey had taken over for Tim Vezie, who had recruited Tony and agreed to a split scholarship, allowing Tony also to play baseball for Coach Jim Dietz. Tony called Smokey a “machine-gun mouth in a tailored suit.” Smokey was proud, loud and “on my ass 24/7.”

The best minor league story was about former player and manager Doug Rader, “The Red Rooster.” Rader was the manager of the Padres Triple-A farm team in Hawaii. In a minor league camp game in 1982, Tony crashed into the wooden fence in Yuma, hitting one of the mooring standards and knocking the wind out of himself. He lay prone for a couple of minutes. Rader walked all the way from the dugout, all the way to the warning track, stood over Tony and growled “Get up, you big p***y!”

Aug. 12, 1984 … the infamous “Basebrawl” between the Padres and Braves in Atlanta. During one of the many pile-ups, Tony belly-laughed recalling hitting coach David (Deacon) Jones, who was frantically pulling players off one another, yelling at everybody “you’re messin’ with my money!” (If someone got hurt, it might ruin the Padres chances of a playoff payoff).
He also remembered – wincing as he spoke – Padres reserve outfielder Bobby Brown punching a fan who had come out of the stands and into the Padres dugout. Brown was a big man with massive hands. He hit the guy in the stomach so hard … “I thought he killed him.”
Just prior to Steve Garvey's dramatic game-winning home run in Game 4 of the 1984 NLCS, Tony admitted to cheating for the first time. In the at-bat before Garvey’s blow off Lee Smith, Tony took a sneak glance at the signal from Cubs catcher Jody Davis. Fastball, up and away. Tony hit it to center for a clean single.

Writing with a broken arm

Aside from transcribing about 13 hours of interviews on tape between the clacking of billiard balls, the hardest part was writing the book with my arm in an elbow-to-thumb cast.

During the summer, when the team was on a road trip, I played on the Padres front office softball team in a Summer League. One night in June I tried to turn a single into a double, slid awkwardly and broke my left arm. Badly. I remember vividly the grotesque X-ray image of my radius bone splintered into several pieces … as if it was a tree struck by lightning.

Remember, too, that these were the days before universal corporate use of computers. So I wrote the entire manuscript – roughly 25,000 words – on an IBM Selectric typewriter. It took about six weeks to write, alone, late at night cached away in my Level 1A office at San Diego Stadium. More than one night I went home with my arm completely numb and left hand swollen from angling my posture to type.

Just under a month later, I received a Fed Ex with an edited copy of the manuscript. I noted, with some ire, that Contemporary had “dumbed down” the story (simplified the prose) and removed even the slightest bit of controversy.

Was it better? No. Was it going to be published? Yes. So my anger quickly subsided.

Aftermath

Tony’s memory was unparalleled. Even in the twilight of his career, he could recall specific at-bats a full decade prior. The situation, the pitcher, the sequence of pitches, and what pitch he hit. Ask him about John Smoltz, or Pedro Martinez, or that one-hitter that Nolan Ryan threw against the Padres. Tony got the only hit: “two-two (the count) and he threw me a ‘deuce’ (curve ball), low-and-away. Put it through the 5.5 hole.” It was astonishing.

I also marveled at how he could swing the bat so effortlessly, with such precision, dexterity and control. He did not have the physique for it. His hands and wrists were surprisingly small. His gait was unique, too. Slightly pigeon-toed, he walked – ambled, really – with a slight lift with each step. Later with achy knees he seemed to be walking on eggs, especially as he gained weight. Didn’t matter. He didn’t care. His skill and Baseball IQ was off the charts. He could still fall out of bed and get a hit.

Anyone who ever met him remembers that buoyant personality, the toothy grin, and especially the high-pitched, hearty laugh. It was infectious. And it was always true and pure. There was nothing fake about Tony Gwynn.

Today, I’m proud to have my little place in the Library of Congress. And equally proud it was written with a baseball legend.

And I’m proud that Tony Gwynn was my friend.

Postscript

Other books written about Tony Gwynn: The Art of Hitting with Roger Vaughn, Tony Gwynn’s Total Baseball Player with Jim Rosenthal, Tony Gwynn: He Left His Heart in San Diego with Rich Wolfe, Tony Gwynn: Mr. Padre by my friend and former San Diego Tribune writer Barry Bloom, and Growing Up with Tony Gwynn by Joseph Plummer.

Tony! Is long out of print. But it still can be found online through various collectibles vendors. I believe a signed copy goes for as much as $175. (His autograph, not mine).

Tony Gwynn’s Career (Baseball Reference)