COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. -- Hands down, my favorite Tony Gwynn story is from the spring of 1995. You remember that spring. The strike had spilled over from 1994, and one of baseball's all-time worst ideas was in full bloom: replacement players.
So I'm in Fort Myers, Fla., covering the Minnesota Twins -- or, clerks imported from Sports Authority who were wearing Twins uniforms -- and after a couple of weeks, desperation set in.
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| Tony Gwynn is willing to drop almost anything to talk baseball. (Getty Images) |
So looking for something -- anything -- different, I pulled out an old telephone number and dialed.
When the strike stole the game from us in mid-August of '94, Gwynn was rampaging through National League pitchers like a Mustang on a deserted highway. He was hitting .394 and zeroing in on becoming the first man to hit .400 since Ted Williams batted .406 in 1941.
I figured readers, even in St. Paul, Minn., would be a heck of a lot more interested in learning whether Gwynn himself thought he could do it than they would be in the collection of misfits and wanna-bes who were suckered into an idea that was never going to be played out.
So I dialed Gwynn late one night from Florida, around 7 p.m. or so San Diego time.
After saying hello and exchanging pleasantries, the conversation went like this:
"Tony, I'm doing something on your run at .400 last season. You have a minute to talk?"
"Sure, let me just put my dinner back in the oven. Give me a minute."
It was priceless, genuine and pure Gwynn. I explained that I was not on any kind of deadline, we could talk later -- later tonight, later this week, whenever -- and that I did not want to interrupt his dinner.
"OK," he said. "Call me back in 45 minutes."
One reason why this is nearly as perfect a Hall of Fame induction weekend as there ever will be is because not only are both Gwynn and Cal Ripken great talents and true professionals with impeccable Cooperstown credentials, but they both retain such a love of the game.
