Ever wonder how a sportswriter can end up with 50 pairs of new underwear and two overstuffed suitcases on a short scheduled reporting trip?
I traveled to San Diego in September 2001 to interview and write about Tony Gwynn’s Hall of Fame career coming to an end weeks later.
It was early Tuesday morning, Sept., 11, when the phone rang in my hotel room at the Mission Valley Marriott near Qualcomm Stadium. I groggily reached for the phone, answered, and it was a friend from Atlanta.
“Did you hear what happened in New York?” she breathlessly said. “A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center.”
OK, I figured someone accidentally crashed their private plane, thanked her for the call, and went back to sleep.
The phone rang 15 minutes later.
A second plane crashed, into the South Tower of the World Trade Center.
This time, I stayed awake, glued to the TV set like the rest of America.
Major League Baseball returned on September 17, 2001.
Commissioner Bud Selig postponed all 15 games that day, extended the postponements until Friday, and then again for three more days until Sept. 17. It was the longest regular-season stoppage, outside of a players’ strike, since World War I shortened the final month of the 1918 season.
Sitting in my hotel room that morning, unable to take my eyes off the TV, I was contemplating what to do next when the phone rang.
It was Gwynn.
He knew I had traveled into town to do a cover story on him for “Baseball Weekly” and we were set to talk at the ballpark.
He asked how I was doing, if I needed anything, and whether I still wanted to do the story.
I assured him I still did, so he invited me to come by his house in suburban Poway, and we’d have lunch.
I pulled up in my rental car the next day, and Gwynn greeted me at the door with blue shorts, a gray shirt, and an orange cap. He plopped down on the recliner in his living room. And we talked.
And talked. And talked. And talked.
We talked for hours. There was no better interview in baseball than Gwynn. There may never have been a better person, either. He was an absolute joy to cover. If you wanted to talk about baseball, Gwynn was there to talk as long as you desired.
You could be a pimple-faced kid from a local high school, or a grizzled veteran from “60 Minutes,” and Gwynn would treat each reporter with identical respect. It didn’t matter how big your newspaper’s circulation was, or whether you were local or national, Gwynn would provide the same access.
He was everyone’s favorite.
This day, with the living room TV showing the heartbreaking devastation in New York, Gwynn had all the time in the world.
“It’s just unbelievable what happened,” Gwynn was saying. “You see it over and over, and still can’t believe it. Life as we knew it before, is over. Life is going to change. And now that it’s going to change, you want to be in a little more control in your life.”
Gwynn, who for years talked about wanting a level playing field, felt helpless at times during his own career. He was disgusted by the rampant use of steroids and amphetamines in the game when everyone else was afraid to address the subject. He was constantly at war with agents and officials who ridiculed him for signing hometown discounts to stay in San Diego. He didn’t care what you thought. This was who he was.
But Gwynn was absolutely right.
The world did change overnight.
Security heightened at the airports. Friends and family could no longer escort you to the gate or await your arrival when you got off the plane. Metal detectors were installed at ballparks and bomb-sniffing dogs became regulars in the clubhouse. Teams hired security agents.
Meanwhile, with no flights available and stranded in San Diego, my cover story: “Mr. Padre: Sweet-Swinging Tony Gwynn closes out a Hall of Fame career” was written that week. When flights resumed once again, it was up to the my editors to determine the next move.
Go home or cover the biggest story in baseball?
Barry Bonds home run chase
The San Francisco Giants were resuming their season, and Barry Bonds was sitting with 63 homers. The editors suggested staying in California for an extra week. Why not catch the Giants in San Francisco for their three-game series against the Houston Astros, follow the Giants back to San Diego, and then go home?
Made sense. I watched Bonds hit his 64th homer in the series finale against the Astros, but then he went homerless in his first two games in San Diego. I was set to fly home the next day, but in that final game of the series, Bonds hit two more homers for 66.
Now, Bonds needed just four more homers in the final 12 games to tie Mark McGwire for the single-season record of 70, set just three years earlier in 1998 during the great home-run race with Sammy Sosa.
“Uh, you mind staying on the Bonds watch?,” my editor asked.
I covered the final 18 games of the Giants’ season, going to San Francisco, back to San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Houston and back to San Francisco. I watched Bonds tie McGwire’s record in his final at-bat in Game 159 in Houston. And then break it the next day with two homers off Los Angeles Dodgers starter Chan Ho Park for 71 and 72, sending the home sellout crowd of 41,730 into hysterics.
Bonds added one more homer for posterity off Dodgers starter Dennis Springer in the season finale, capping one of the greatest offensive seasons in baseball history, and his fourth MVP award. Bonds hit .328 with 73 homers, 137 RBI, a league-leading .515 on-base percentage, league-leading .863 slugging percentage, league-leading 1.379 OPS and league-leading 259 walks.
It was a season for the ages.
Bonds would go onto win four MVPs in a row, and break Henry Aaron’s all-time home run record in 2007 with myself and a horde of reporters covering the home run chase for nearly a month.
Gwynn, meanwhile, spent the final day of his career in San Diego in 2001 pinch-hitting against the Colorado Rockies in front of a sellout crowd of 60,103. He batted .324, his 19th consecutive season hitting at least .300.
Six years later, Gwynn and Cal Ripken Jr. were inducted together into the Hall of Fame, drawing the largest crowd in Cooperstown history that still stands today.
Tony Gwynn retired after the 2001 season.
2001 World Series among the best ever
Now, with the 2001 regular season coming to an end after Bonds’ record-breaking performance, it was time for the postseason, which was pushed back a week because of the terrorist attacks. It was off to Arizona and St. Louis to cover the National League Division Series. Next, Atlanta and Arizona in the NLCS. Then, the World Series between the Diamondbacks and New York Yankees.
It will be remembered as one of the greatest World Series in history, featuring President George W. Bush throwing out the ceremonial first pitch before Game 3 at Yankee Stadium as the sellout crowd emotionally burst into cheers and tears – followed by three dramatic Yankees wins.
It ended on the night of Nov 4, the latest World Series Game in history, with the Diamondbacks coming back from a 2-1 deficit in the ninth inning of Game 7 with outfielder Luis Gonzalez hitting a walk-off single off future Hall of Fame closer Mariano Rivera.
Arizona 3, New York 2.
Future Hall of Famer Randy Johnson, who came onto relief to win Game 7 after pitching seven innings and winning Game 6, was the co-World Series MVP along with Curt Schilling, who yielded a 1.69 ERA in three starts.
It was the first and only Diamondbacks’ World Series championship.
And it was the end of the Yankees’ dynasty, after winning four World Series titles and five pennants since 1996.
Finally, after 56 consecutive days on the road, I was going home, taking along perhaps the most underwear ever stuffed in suitcases.
Why so much underwear?
Hey, you know how much hotels charge to do laundry? It was not only more convenient, but also cheaper to simply buy all new clothes.
So, I kept buying and buying, two, three packs at a time. Before I knew it, I had an entire suitcase full, hoping some poor soul at airport security (soon-to-be TSA) didn’t actually have to open the bag when I landed in Minneapolis.
The season was over, and after 40 years covering baseball, one that I’ll never forget.
And, you know what, Gwynn was right.
Life did completely change.
We’ll be reminded of it once again Friday when the Mets and Yankees play at Yankee Stadium on the 25th anniversary of the terrorist attacks.
I just wish Gwynn were still alive to reminisce about the memories from a quarter-century ago on how the sport of baseball helped heal a nation – and how his kindness and compassion helped a stranded visitor in his hometown.
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This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: 9/11 with Tony Gwynn began reporter’s road trip through MLB history
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