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Old 06-19-2014, 03:24 AM   #417
Damian Rey
 
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Damian Rey puts the "bang" in Bangladesh (30,000+)Damian Rey puts the "bang" in Bangladesh (30,000+)Damian Rey puts the "bang" in Bangladesh (30,000+)Damian Rey puts the "bang" in Bangladesh (30,000+)Damian Rey puts the "bang" in Bangladesh (30,000+)Damian Rey puts the "bang" in Bangladesh (30,000+)Damian Rey puts the "bang" in Bangladesh (30,000+)Damian Rey puts the "bang" in Bangladesh (30,000+)Damian Rey puts the "bang" in Bangladesh (30,000+)
Well, it took a few days for me to get on here and actually say anything, but I have no where else to really vent this, so here it goes.

If you've even remotely followed anything I have said in this thread, you notice two things. I love baseball, and I fucking love my Padres. But before I gave two shits about either of those things, I loved Tony Gwynn. He was the sole reason I ever bothered to watch the games in the first place. I'm not sure how or why, but I just remember being an 8 yr old kid who all of sudden took an interest in watching a not so muscular, chubby guy in his 30's punch the ball all over the field, and I was hooked.

I collected everything Tony Gwynn. Magazines, bobble heads, baseball cards, posters, newspaper clippings. EVERYTHING. I wore my Tony Gywnn number 19 t-shirt for Halloween multiple years in a row. I legit idolized this man I had never met, but never heard one bad thing about.


My entire day as a kid was built around baseball and watching Tony hit. Once my youth league games were over, I'd want to rush home, and make sure that, no matter what I missed, I didn't miss Tony's at bats. I'd take half assed 2 minute showers knwoing he was due up the next inning. I'd scarf down my dinner to get back to the living room to watch him hit. I put everything in my life on hold 4 times a night because nothing mattered more to me than watching my favorite player do his thing.

I saw all of his great moments in the back 9 of his career. His WS homerun off David Wells was amazing. My favorite player of all time crushed a pitch, at Yankee stadium, to give my team the lead. I watched intently has he lined his 3000th hit into center field in front an empty stadium in Montreal. I remember his first grand slam, his only inside the park homerun, etc. I was an addict to his watching his game.

As I grew older, I more and more wanted to emulate Gwynn. I stopped caring if I'd ever hit a homerun, and just tried to make contact. I mimicked his stance ( to little success), his plate mannerisms. I played right field, even though the "scrubs" were the ones who played there when I was a kid. He was my everything for baseball. He was everything I wanted to be as a player. Humble. Loyal. Insanely consistent and successful. but nothing flashy or over the top.

As I continued to play and not be entirely successful in youth baseball, I began to be more and more inspired by my hero. I knew for a long time Tony had watched himself relentlessly through video tape. The minute I figured out how to work my parents old camera and plug the feed into the tv, I started doing the same, having my brother throw whiffle balls at me while the camera was capturing a profile shot. I hadn't a fucking clue exactly what I was looking for, but I knew to only focus on the good swings and good hits.

This continued into high school. Video equipment was not readily available, so trying to tape myself in front of my teammates was a doomed idea, but, after "borrowing" at a batting tee I still own to this day, I was able to continually tape and photograph my swing off the tee and through soft toss from my unwilling brother, trying to mimmick success, just like my hero.

I legit, no joke, do this to this day. I, being a 28 year old man, playing in Sunday adult baseball leagues the last decade, still bring my camera and tripod to the dugout, and set that bad boy up to tape my at bats. It sounds ridiculous that I take something so serious, but it's true. I tape my damn at bats. I tape my rounds off the tee in my garage at home. I tape my batting practice session with my best friend during the week, shooting the shit for hours talking hitting mechanics, getting my foot down, throwing my hands, and all other kinds of jargon about hitting and trying to get better. And then I go home, ignore my poor, enduring wife, while I pour over hours of video looking for the constant in my good swings. All because, to this day, 20 years after first seeing him play, I still want to be like Tony Gwynn.

Like everyone, I had to accept that my hero's time was winding down. I distinctly remember Tony's press conference, following two miserable seasons of injuries and missing a gross amount of time, where he announced it was time to call it day at the end of 2001. I was crushed. I was already 15 years old, and I still needed my mommy to console me, because I didn't know who I was gonna root for or care about when he was gone. Who was I going to watch and emulate if Tony isn't around? I somehow lucked out, and got great seats from a family friend to attend Tony's last game. At this point, Tony was limited to making a joke out of pinch hitting, punching a .300 plus average while doing so. He ended up grounding out Juan Uribe, who was the Rockies shortstop at the time. Tony took his time jogging off the field, and tipped his helmet. I remember it like it was yesterday. My favorite game I've ever been to.

I was in my truck driving to work on Monday morning, wearing, no joke, my 98 pinstripe T. Gwynn jersey (fav jersey, btw). I had just gotten gas and was heading to work, and as I accelerated up the on ramp, I hear dead silence on the radio where a news bumper usually plays, leading to a top story spot. The announce came on, clearly wavering, and stated "The greatest athlete in San Diego history has passed away". For a split second I tried to process who the fuck he could be talking about. He then followed "Tony Gwynn passed away this morning...". I, quite literally yelped, put my hand over my mouth, and tears started to roll down my face.

The man I had spent my entire life trying to mimick, trying my best to emulate, was gone. A man I had never met, yet felt such a deep connection to, was no longer with us. My hero. My idle. Gone. I still cannot put into words how empty I feel. It is still hitting, hard, that a man who I spent my entire childhood looking up to was no longer in this world.

I know it can, and likely, sounds at least a bit silly to cry tears for a man, a person, I never had the pleasure of meeting. But Tony meant a lot to me. My dad, for all the great things he has provided me, and the great things he's taught me as a man, was not, in any way, shape or form, into baseball. My mom was, but not like me. I didn't have that male figure in my life to look up to and learn from and be my mentor. That's what Tony was for me. Everything I wanted to be as a person, as a player, and as a man, was what Tony was. Kind, generous, humble. That's how I modeled myself, and it's still how I continue to try and carry myself.

I will never get to tell him this, but Tony, you meant thw world to me, and you had a big part in shaping who I am. Thank you for being the man who made me fall in love forever with the greatest game on earth. You will be missed. R.I.P #19.
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