The Tony Gwynn I knew

Editor's note: Melissa Roadman is a Data Visualization Specialist on The Gazette's digital team. She was born and raised in San Diego and attended the Missouri School of Journalism. She graduated in May 2009 with a degree in Convergence Journalism.

By Melissa Roadman, The Gazette

SAN DIEGO — Tony Gwynn was so much more than baseball.

Exactly 15 years to the date of his death Monday, I met Tony for the first time. I was born and raised in San Diego as a huge baseball fan. Fresh off one of the Padres' most successful seasons and an appearance in the 1998 World Series, he was my idol. When my mom began tutoring his son, I anxiously awaited the day I could meet Mr. Padre. I never could have imaged the wonderful friendship that developed between our families.

There's no doubt Tony was one of the best baseball players in the history of the sport. His stats are nothing short of impressive. The golden gloves, silver bats and numerous other awards displayed throughout his house are remarkable. But what made him such an amazing person was his character on and off the field.

Tony, or Big T as I know him, was a lot of things to a lot of people. Having the pleasure of getting to know him as more than just a public figure, Tony easily is one of the most influential people in my life. I strive to be everything he was.

He was a giver. Moments after meeting Big T, he asked me if I wanted a Butterfinger and some Gatorade. For years, each trip to the Gwynns started this same way. From a simple candy bar to amazing Padres tickets to the trip of a lifetime to see him and Cal Ripkin Jr.'s induction into the Hall of Fame, I can't count the number of times I personally have felt Tony and the entire Gwynn family's generosity.

But their reach was so much wider than just friends and family. The Tony and Alicia Gwynn Foundation raises money to support programs for underprivileged youth throughout San Diego. Tony gave his time to his fans, too. It wasn't just public appearances either. He took the time to really talk to those who idolized him, especially youth. He always emphasized the importance of education and following your dreams. During a visit to my elementary school in 2000, a student asked what his favorite book was. The answer: Moby Dick. The next day, that was the hottest book in the library.

He was a family man. It was rare to see Tony, in public or at home, without his wife, Alicia, and children, Tony Gwynn Jr. (Little Tony) and Anisha. Tony and Alicia met as children and grew up together. It was obvious they were best friends and each other's worlds. Family was his top priority. His children were his life. He did anything to help out a family member, whether it was a place to stay or a supportive phone call. On any given day, you'll find siblings, children, grandchildren or extended family gathered at the Gwynn's. He also recognized family reached beyond bloodlines. I am thankful that my family falls into this category.

My mom was diagnosed with cancer around the same time as Tony. Both joked they were 'cancer buddies' and provided comic relief for one another during the tough times. But they also could privately talk about the hard stuff, the stuff that no one else understands. It was then I realized what it meant to be part of the Gwynn family. The fun trips and gatherings were amazing, but I am eternally grateful for the love, the support, the prayers, the laughs and the hopeful spirit the Gwynns brought to my family.

I hope we were able to return the favor.

He was a teacher. On days the Padres weren't playing, I used to see Tony meticulously reviewing clips. He'd spend hours analyzing his games so he could improve. He did the same with his son, who now plays for the Philadelphia Phillies. I think Little Tony, and probably most of the players he's coached, will tell you he was the greatest teacher they've had. He hosted camps to teach young baseball players skills and important lessons of the game.

But his teaching moments extended past the baseball field, as well. In 2007, when he was being inducted into the Hall of Fame, I was asked to cover it for my high school newspaper because my family was going as his guests. When I mentioned it to him, he offered to sit down for an interview with me. I'd had hundreds of casual conversations with him but when the day came, I was freaking out. I'd never interviewed anyone outside of my high school, and he'd been around professionals his whole career. After the interview, he offered me advice for the future, all of which I still remember. My favorite: Always smile, even when it's a phone interview. The person will be able to tell.

He was an infectious smile and the greatest laugh you've ever heard. You knew when you were in a room with Tony. He had a great sense of humor. It filled you with joy just hearing it. And his smile could brighten anybody's day. Even through the injuries later in his career and tough times, he always had a huge smile on his face and an optimistic attitude. Out of all the lessons I learned from Big T, this is the one that has resonated with me the most. Smiling and staying positive are key, but as he said in his induction speech in Cooperstown, 'laughter would be the thing that disarms people.'

He was a fan. Going to Cooperstown with the Gwynn family s is one of the highlights of my life. I was in awe being in the same room as all the legends I read about growing up. Turns out, so was Tony. He was like a little boy in a candy store. These were all his heroes and role models. He nervously contemplated asking for autographs but decided against it because there were 'no autograph' signs around. I think they probably would have made an exception for him.

He also was his wife and children's biggest fans. No one clapped louder when Alicia earned her PhD. He proudly introduced and supported Anisha at her concerts. He gleamed while watching his son play baseball. Once Junior entered the majors, there wasn't one of his games Tony missed watching, regardless of the team.

He was loyal. To his team, to his city and to his community. Tony grew up in southern California and moved two hours south to play baseball and basketball at San Diego State. He was drafted into the MLB and NBA on the same day, but chose to stay and play for the Padres. He played his entire 20-year career for the same team, and they were some of the best for the franchise.

After retiring, he went back to his alma mater to coach. Even when contracts with larger salaries were offered, there was nothing that was going to take Tony away from San Diego. This was his home. He's appropriately nicknamed Mr. Padre and Mr. San Diego. He gave so much to the community and his fans. To honor his loyalty to the city and fans, a local San Diego brewery debuted a new brew called Pale Ale 394 (Tony's highest season batting average) just a few weeks ago.

He was a true to the game. He didn't play the game for the money. He genuinely loved to play. He didn't abuse his status as a professional athlete. He put in the effort, reviewing tapes late into the night to see what went wrong and figuring out pitching patterns. And most importantly, despite playing during the steroid era, Tony stayed clean. His strength came from working out and dedication to baseball.

He was a fighter. Toward the end of his career, Tony suffered from multiple injuries. But he never let that get him down. He kept working on his strength. After retiring, he developed small health concerns from the wear and tear of being a professional athlete and also adapting to a less active lifestyle. But when his first granddaughter, Makayla, was born, he knew that needed to change. He made a commitment to improve his lifestyle so he could be around to see her graduate from college.

Three years later, he was first diagnosed with salivary gland cancer. He fought through several rounds of chemo, radiation and surgeries. I was in college so I wasn't around him as much, but when I came home, I would visit. He was confident he could beat it. Not long ago, while talking to my mom, he said, 'believe in me. You have to believe I can beat this.' He continued to fight for another few weeks.

He is a Padre, a legend, an inspiration, a hero.

Goodbye, my friend. You will be greatly missed by all. Your memories will live on forever.

l Comments: (319) 398-8563; melissa.roadman@sourcemedia.net