The Padres became my first love in sport, out of sheer loyalty for the hometown team. My older brother, opportunist that he was, became a Dodgers fan, a good decision for him, no doubt, although I still consider him a traitor for that, plus converting two of his kids, San Diego natives, to the dark Dodger blue side.
As a kid (and later as a teen, adult, etc.), life as a Padre fan was hard. The big teams like the Reds, the Phillies, the Pirates, and yes, the Dodgers, would roll into town and pummel us. The Dodgers would pick on us the most, we couldn't touch them. This was Garvey, Cey, Russell, Sutton, Baker (as in Dusty), all headed by their manager, Tommy Lasorda, another guy in love with the camera. They would just hammer us, which is why I rooted against them when they played the Yankees in 1977 that included the three-dinger game by Mr. October himself, Reggie Jackson.
Who were our guys? Randy Jones (the poor guy, we pitched him until his arm fell off). Billy Almond. Mike Ivey. Gene Tenace. Let's take the 1977 season, where we went 69-93. We went 6-12 against the Dodgers, 3-9 against the Phillies, and 2-10 against the Pirates. That was being a Padres fan in a nutshell. Wait for the other teams to come to town for some decent entertainment. Luckily, we had Dave Winfield, still my favorite Padre of all time.
In a town that had everything, we didn't seem to think we needed a winning ballclub, and neither did our owner, guy by the name of Ray Kroc, perhaps you've heard of him. Until 1984, we had an overall won-lost record of 995–1372 for a .420 winning percentage. A record like that doesn't sell tickets, either.
And then came 1984.
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