Qualcomm Thrill

Sometimes when things don't go as you had planned, they work out better than you could've hope for!

On September 16th, 1998, I was supposed to go from Los Angeles to Anaheim for a business meeting.  Well, that meeting was called off unexpectedly, so the group I was with decided to head to San Diego a day earlier than we had originally planned.  That also meant that we could take in the Padres game that evening.

After a scenic drive down I-15 – which included a stop in the beautiful town of Lake Elsinore to visit their highly regarded minor-league park – we arrived at Qualcomm Stadium to see the Padres host the Cubs.  Almost 50,000 fans were on hand to see the contest, and by the time we fought the crowds and got to our seats, it was the bottom of the first . . . meaning the Cubs had already batted, including number 21, their right fielder.  Luckily, he didn't hit a home run.

Because if he would have, it would have been his 63rd HR of the season, and I would've missed it.  Later on in the 7th inning, this right fielder would break a scoreless tie with a two-run double.  The score was tied again as he came up to bat in the next inning with the bases loaded.  Brian Boehringer was on the mound for the Padres, who were in a dog fight with the Astros and Braves (the other two teams that had already clinched their division in the NL) for home field advantage in the playoffs.

The first pitch was low and outside, and as had been the case on every pitch to this batter throughout the evening, flashbulbs were popping from all over the stadium.  The next pitch decided the game – and probably the race for the NL MVP award.  Boehringer, who hadn't allowed a run in his previous 11 appearances, then tried to sneak a fastball on the inside corner.  The result was a 434-foot drive into the second deck in left field.

Nothing against the wonderful time I've spent in other parks, but I have to tell you that being present for Sammy Sosa's 63rd home run of the '98 season -- and a game-winning grand slam, no less -- was as big a thrill as I had ever experienced.  While I've watched (live) on TV as many significant baseball events have happened over the years (like Aaron's 715th, various no hitters, McGwire's 62nd and 19 days later, his 70th, Cal's 2131 -- and when it came to an end after 2,632, Kirk Gibson's limping around the bases in October of ‘88), I have never been present for something as wonderful, as magical, as . . . . as . . .  as . . . . on second thought, there is no point in trying to come up with adjectives, since none suffice.  It was, at the time, simply the biggest thrill I'd ever encountered in my three-decade love affair with baseball.

Here is what Qualcomm Stadium looked like as Sammy was in his home-run trot between second and third.  The San Diego crowd (including yours truly) went absolutely nuts.  The stadium scoreboard "saluted" him.  There were even fireworks.

The paper the next day was full of stories about how the Padre players blasted (profanely) the fans and the team management for participating in the euphoria over an event that cost the home team a win.  You might agree -- because the "old school" line of thinking is that you should never be so happy that your team lost a game.

I, though, think that line of thinking is wrong, since the home-run chase between Mark McGwire and Sosa was something bigger than an individual win or loss.  It was bigger than the pennant race.  It was as big as -- no, BIGGER than -- baseball itself.  And because of the chase, the popularity of baseball, by all measures, reached its highest point in many years.  As a die-hard fan of a particular team, if I were there to see McGwire or Sosa hit a record-setting home run against my own team and it cost us a win, I'd consider myself blessed that I was present to witness it.  And I was very blessed (thank You, God!) that I was there to see Slammin' Sammy hit a grand slam for #63, on a day when I was supposed to be in the Los Angeles area.  I will never forget that moment for the rest of my life.