Tony Gwynn Mr Padre Statue – William Behrends

During my freshman year at San Diego State University, I would run routinely on an open grass field that lay adjacent to my dormitory, a ramshackle brick building with architectural ambitions rivaling that of an internment camp (said structure has since been knocked down). Following my workout, I’d stretch out languorously, allowing my post-​workout warmth to fuse with the wintry Spring greenery atop of which I sprawled. It was usually then that a stocky, compact man-​unassuming in his temperament and way of dress-​would frequent the field to pick up lingering trash deposited by passersby. Not being much of a conversationalist, I opted to reply in a minimalistic fashion when he inquired about my well-​being or commented accordingly on the disposition of the weather and as such, the breadth of our dialogue ranged from the garden-​variety «hello, how are you?» to «the weather’s been nice.»
And so the establishment of a quasi camaraderie was born. He’d ask of my day and I’d meekly muster up a single-​worded reply. I’d reciprocate the inquiry for etiquette’s sake. He’d nod his head for a few rounds before responding with his standard «It’s been treating me well.» From his nightly trash collection routine, I surmised the guy was a janitor. This perception was promptly altered one evening after the mild-​mannered, compact man who I presumed to be a janitor hopped into a black, Tony Gwynn-​edition Escalade and rode off gently into the night.
Oh, the scrutiny with which I was met upon relaying to my Father, a die-​hard Padres aficionado, that I had mistaken a baseball Hall of Famer for what some would euphemistically refer to as a «sanitation technician.»