A few
weeks ago I posted a few short pieces on relatively unknown people who have
done notable things. While compiling a list of those who I wished to profile in
the future I took great care to ensure they were little known outside their own
communities, as the focus was on those who have devoted their lives to their
communities be it through tireless volunteering or rallying support for causes
bigger than themselves yet were not known on the national level.
One name
that kept coming to mind was Larry Lucchino. Though well known in baseball
circles, I pondered whether to do a brief profile on him. Smiling broadly at my
own foolishness, I quickly realized that I couldn’t not do a piece on the man
most responsible for bringing A Ballpark to San Diego. Nor could I write
anything brief about a man who has done so much for so many. The following
contains much of what I have already written in not only these past few weeks,
but in years past and sadly, since the moment I learned of Larry’s passing.
We all
know the public pedigree; Larry Lucchino revolutionized the Gameday Experience
forever with the opening of Camden Yards. From there he came to San Diego and
spearheaded the often lost-cause effort of building Petco Park. Three years after
leaving San Diego for Boston, the Curse of the Bambino was broken and the Red
Sox were World Series Champions for the first time in 86 years. While never
employed by the Cubs, those in the know are well aware that Larry Lucchino had
a hand in the Cubs winning the Fall Classic for the first time in over a
hundred years. Although not given his start in baseball by Larry Lucchino, it
is fair to say that Theo Epstein made his way to the Cubs front office in large
part due to what he learned working under Larry.
Even today
another Lucchino protégé, Sam Kennedy is President and CEO of the Red Sox.
My life
may not be as illustrious as the lives of those I have just named but I do know
that my life would have been much different if it were not for Larry Lucchino.
It all
started in late January of 1998. After a six-year hiatus from formal education,
(“Hiatus” being a gentle term to describe what amounted to being a drifter and construction
worker across the American Southwest) I started classes at Southwestern
Community College in Chula Vista. I started with four classes and fourteen
units per week, two of which leaned toward my interests in media and film, the
other two focusing on my love for the outdoors. One of the classes was Acting
for Television and Film and our first assignment was to do a political
roundtable-type program on a subject of our choosing.
I talked
my group into writing and producing a segment on the recent stories revolving
around Padres ownerships’ desire to build a brand-new ballpark. Once the topic
was agreed upon I raced to the library to seek any and all info I could find on
the then-new trend of building “Retro” ballparks. I made calls to relatives in
Colorado, peppering them with questions about Coors Field. Due to internet access
and my knowledge of its use being minimal I took a grassroots approach, stopping
random people on the street and on the busses. Anyone I could find in Orioles
gear would be inundated with questions. I would start conversations with anyone
about baseball, hoping it would lead to talk about these newer ballparks.
Little did
I know I was only weeks away from not only having a fly on the wall view of the
literal and figurative building of a new ballpark, I was also to become one of
hundreds of people led by Larry Lucchino in the effort.
Some call
it fate, some may even call it destiny. I for one, believe when they say “What we
call coincidence is just God’s way of working anonymously.” One afternoon not
long after my first day of school I stopped by the bathroom on the way home, a
seemingly routine action that would change my life forever.
As I
walked out of the bathroom I noticed a flyer:
San
Diego Padres
Entertainment
Department
Pad
Squad
Open
Meeting This Monday
I don’t
recall the exact words on the flyer but I have a vivid memory of my thoughts
when I read them: “I’ve been training my whole life for this!” Since my
first game in 1983, baseball was in my heart; the initial excitement once I had
the ticket in my hand, the drive to the Stadium, the tailgate feasts and the
electricity of the crowd, I was consumed by it all.
At the
time, all I knew about the Pad Squad was they were the kids my age who would
shoot goodies into the crowd with a water balloon slingshot. I had been using
one for nearly ten years at that point, with balloons, eggs and one memorable
occasion with snowballs in a beautiful meadow in Idyllwild. And at the many
games I had gone to in 1996 and ’97, I thought to myself “I could do it
better than that!”
Two months
later, on April 8th 1998, I got my chance to prove it. And prove it
I did, all the way to the World Series. Twelve more years in the sun followed,
bringing into my life countless friends and at least a hundred memories for
every seat in the Stadium and Ballpark combined, far too many to list here.
During those
thirteen seasons and over a thousand games, I was given the opportunity to rub
elbows with some of the greatest names to ever play the game. I was and still
am on a first-name basis with some of the greatest Padres of all time; players,
managers and coaches alike. The most unique part of it all for me was having
days where I would be standing next to Hank Aaron or Willie Mays one moment
then sitting with a family in the nosebleed seats. A few moments after that I
would lead my crew in singing Happy Birthday to a centenarian who was at her
first baseball game; minutes later I would be clear across the Ballpark
preparing to send a family off to Hawaii, then racing down to the field to lead
our moment in the spotlight, Slingshots.
Yet the
true magic happened off the field and outside the ballpark itself. They say
after a loss you have to leave it on the field. But when you’re in a position like
I was in for those years you simply cannot do that, as everything that happened
there finds a place in your heart and stays there forever. Most notably, I met
my wife at Petco Park just two months after we opened it. Now, we bring our four
children to the game, just as kids who used to follow the Pad Squad around The
Murph now bring their own children out to the ol’ ballgame.
Equally important
was meeting the man who would guide me to sobriety. I say with firm conviction
I would not be alive today had I not gotten sober. Had I not gotten sober and
stayed sober, my daughters would never have been born.
I often
say I have a “Family of 40,000” and so many of them have meant so many things
to my family. The godparents of three of my children are former Pad Squad
coworkers, and the godmother of our youngest, Chloe (Who shares her birthday
with none other than the man her older brother was named after) is in my life
as a direct result of Petco Park. She’s my sister-in-law, and now my wife and I
are godparents to her son, our nephew. The circle continues.
Lifelong
friends from before my baseball days along with my Ballpark family helped prop
me up emotionally, spiritually and financially during those harrowing early
days of sobriety. Summer Serrano; Padres fan extraordinaire, was the first
person I talked to after my last drink. Incidentally, it was a conversation with
(fellow Pad Squad from 1998 and Godfather to my son Joseph), Armando LaMadrid,
as good a friend a man could ever have, that led me to making the decision to
walk away from the Pad Squad, which was vital to my focusing on turning my life
around.
And I’ll always
cherish my friendship with FranKlin “K-Man” Lewis, who became something of a father
figure to me. Of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t talk of Mark Gomez; who
taught me what I consider the true meaning of success. The mere thought of Mark
never failed to change my mood for the better, and being someone like that for
others is something I feel is the pinnacle of true success.
I
mentioned in a letter to someone much closer to Larry than most that much of my
perception of Larry is image, as even though he signed my paychecks for three
years, I never had anything resembling a conversation with him. I guess we were
always too busy. Not that he didn’t seem approachable to me, just that I likened
the relationship I had with him to the one I had with longtime clubbie Tony Petricca;
always passing each other in the hallway with a friendly hello or nod while
moving on to the next task. Always moving, always planning, always doing.
Recently I
also wrote that I have worked for two types of people in my thirty-five years
in the workforce: those who get the bare minimum of effort simply because I don’t
want to hear the griping, and those I work my tail off for because I don’t want
to let them down. I am certain you can guess which Larry was, as was every
person who worked below him and above me.
Former Padres
Director of Media Relations Glenn Geffner said it best:
Larry Lucchino didn’t merely expect excellence
from those around him.
He demanded it.
And he didn’t merely demand it.
He taught it.
He nurtured it.
He inspired it.
And he rewarded it.
Glenn’s
words illustrate why Larry was head and shoulders above the rest. Again,
all of this is written from my perspective and from my perspective, he was Tony
Gwynn-committed to his craft, he was Patton-fiery in his leadership and he was Mister
Rogers-dedicated to his community.
As I sit
here in my little office at home, I have shelves containing over five hundred
books to my left, maps of the United States and local wildlands on the wall to
my right and on the wall behind me, dozens of pictures from my years with the
Padres. Pictures of my family of six at the game, pics with guys like Bruce
Bochy and Press Gate Bruce, Tony Gwynn and Trevor Hoffman, Jerry Coleman and
Captain Jack Ensch and of course, Rudy has a picture with Rickey Henderson.
Now I know
some of you may be thinking “Why is he making this all about him?” and to
think this is understandable. Yet I write it because it is my story about Larry
Lucchino. The Impact. As Alex Montoya put it just a few day ago, Larry had an
impact on so many people. The number of which would be impossible to calculate.
How many people met the loves of their lives at Camden Yards or Petco Park? How
many friendships were created at one of the many community events Larry put on
over the years? Not only that, but how many lives were impacted by people who
learned excellence from Larry? How many lives will they go on to impact?
I know I
have impacted lives. I hear it every time I go to the ballpark, I read it every
time someone reaches out and thanks me for words I have shared. Yet I am just
one person and to ask how many people have been impacted as a direct result of
Larry’s impact on another well, that’s about as easy to answer as “How big is
the universe?” or “How many total blades of grass are on all the ballfields in
all the world?”
I have
often closed my baseball related blogs with the words “Baseball is just how we
met…”
Today, I
can firmly say to every person I have met in baseball…
“We met
because of Larry Lucchino…”
Thank you,
Larry…
