Tell me if you've heard this one before. Wild starting Pittsburgh Pirates pitcher has Thursday off before a San Diego series, so he visits a lady friend in Los Angeles. He drops some acid with her for the day. He gets a little confused and takes some more on Friday morning before realizing he has a game that night. He hops on a plane, pitches the game very focused on the catcher's glove and throws a no-hitter.

It sounds too ridiculous, but once you hear it was over the hapless early 70’s San Diego Padres then it gets a lot more believable.

We Padres fans didn't get a lot of wins in the 1970s. It wasn't until their 7th year in the league that they finished higher than last place in the NL West.

Instead, we desperately reveled in ANY statistical accomplishments. Sure, the team is dreadful, but Cito Gaston hit .318 in 1971!

So, when Nate Colbert hit 5 home runs and 13 RBIs in one day, a doubleheader of course, it was immediately the hallmark franchise moment. What's even more incredible is that the Padres won 2 games that day.

In the first game of the 1974 season, a pipe burst during the game, and the Padres let a run score forgetting how many outs there were. And those were the highlights.

Their new owner, McDonald's CEO Ray Kroc addressed the crowd over the PA system: "Ladies and gentlemen, I suffer with you. I’ve never seen such stupid ball playing in my life." Yes, a slow start to turning the corner - and Kroc promised to do better. But anybody who’s seen The Founder can tell you what a Ray Kroc promise is worth.

The Padres somehow have won 5 Cy Young awards over the years, they had 2 Cy Youngs before ever playing a game in the postseason. It's crazy how good their pitching was even in the wilderness. Bonus points if you can name all 5 without looking them up ... I’ll bet you’ll miss the 1989 winner, even though I just told you the year.

Randy Jones was fantastic for a few years there, and a remarkably fast worker. On a Tuesday night in July there was a great pitchers duel with the Phillies' Steve Carlton. My dad was obsessed with getting in and out of Jack Murphy Stadium quickly, which was usually not a problem with a lot of sub-10,000-person crowds. This night was even easier with the game done in 1 hour, 31 minutes. No need for pitch clocks then.

We had unusually good seats for this one, 4th row which I remember because we had a perfect straight-ahead view of the 3rd base line. So, when universally-loathed slugger Dave Kingman crushed a HR that hooked enough that it went fair past the pole but landed 15 seats in foul territory - we had an ideal view. This game was over after 10 minutes, and my father was the first guy I heard do the 1st-inning post-homer joke, "There goes the no hitter."

I would say that after an anomaly of a winning season in 1978 (their 1st), it was back to watching the stars of the National League come to town and beat up the Padres. But the 70’s Cubs weren’t much better. Don’t worry, the Padres would have their revenge over the Cubs in 1984.

We now know the San Diego Chicken as the O.G. of sports mascots, way before the Philly Phanatic and Gritty. But at the time, Ted Giannolas was working as the "KGB Chicken" for a local radio station for years. As the act grew more popular, he wanted to monetize it more, and for legal reasons had to rebrand and go it alone. His antics were popular at Padres games, any excuse not to watch the losing baseball was welcome. Personal aside: my mother had to negotiate with Giannolas for an appearance for the City of San Diego for a ridiculous "America's Finest City Festival" (don't ask), and I think the word she used to describe him was that he was an "ass."

The Chicken and the Padres made an absolute meal out of the unveiling. It took place before the game. There were 44,000 fans in attendance (compared to 11k the night before and 20k the night after). A giant egg was brought out to much fanfare and the theme to 2001: A Space Odyssey. Sadly, this might really be the highlight of the franchise's first 15 seasons.

Even though it was only in May, I swear I remember him on the cover of some sport magazine with the title: "Broderick Perkins: I Can Hit .400." He ended up .270. Do you realize what a fall that is?

Before every season, the Padres promised that a newly called-up prospect should be in the Rookie of the Year running. Johnny Grubb, Billy Almon, Tucker Ashford, Mike Champion, Dave Freisleben, and John D'Acquisto ("the next Sandy Koufax"). Their legacy just ended up being some embarrassing March newspaper articles and some absurd baseball cards.

After the end of the 50-day MLB work stoppage, owner Ray Kroc gave away all seats for free for the club's "re-opener" vs. Atlanta. Kroc said the open house is "our way of telling the fans we're sorry" for the strike. That was the plan.

I was at this game. I don't remember what the beer prices were lowered to that night, but it was too low. The game devolved into a near fan riot. The outfield was almost unplayable from the pile of paper airplanes and cups thrown on the field. I remember being at the game with a fellow tennis player in town from Hobbs, New Mexico for whom it was his first baseball game. He asked, "Are all major league games like this?" No. No, they are not.

Way before Cal Ripken broke Lou Gehrig's unbreakable consecutive-game streak, Steve Garvey had a good ironman run going in his career and as a new Padre. I was at this first game of a Friday double-header, intentionally in the worst seat in the stadium - where I knew my friend Ted would sometimes go with a joint. That was my vantage point for a wild pitch and play at the plate where a sliding Garvey was stepped on by Braves fireband pitcher Pascual Perez.

Was it a dirty play? Probably not. But it foreshadows a conflict with Perez and the Braves in the following season. The Braves and Padres had an odd little rivalry for a few years while the Braves were still in the NL Western Division for some reason. Both fan bases suffered through a bad decade in the 70s, and as they became legitimately good squads by 1983, a forgotten rivalry was born.

If you don't know about this game, you are in for a YouTube treat when you have time. It has everything: 3 distinct full brawls, hit-by-pitch escalation loop (started by our old friend Pascual Perez), 13 player ejections and multiple coaches, plus fan involvement (beer thrown, fan arrests).

The Padres were already having a magical season, 9.5 games up at this point, with an odd clubhouse of personalities who didn't necessarily like each other. But nothing brings a team together like a fight. Especially when manager Dick Williams orders Padre pitches to bean Braves in revenge. I fell in love with the Padres' craziests in this one: Champ Summers, Bobby Brown, Graig Nettles were not holding back - and I have never quite seen the exact rage again that I saw in Pads' pitcher Ed Whitson's eyes when a fan dumped a beer on him.

Yeah, it was a travesty. But part of me wishes we'd get one game like this every season.

This is the first legit glorious moment of Padres history. Sports are always fun, but this was my first experience with the hairs standing up on my arm and the beauty of city-wide pandemonium. Yes, it's a great Cubs collapse narrative - blowing a 2 games to none lead, the 2nd-worst ball through a first baseman's legs error in baseball history, but I'm from San Diego and this was Padres nirvana.

I could argue that the special chills feelings started with Garry Templeton firing up the crowd, but it's really probably Steve Garvey's late Game 4 opposite field HR off Lee Smith to win the game. At the time, I pledged to name my child "Garvey" until I learned a phony, snake oil salesman, and serial nightmare father he turned out to be.

As for clinching game 5, I can recite the game-ending announcer chatter by memory:



Little did I know that it was possible for sports ecstasy to last only 48 hours until the Padres ran into a buzzsaw known as the 1984 Detroit Tigers.

The Padres had very solid non-playoff teams in the late 80s and early 90s. Tony Gwynn was the anchor and city hero of course, but Roberto Alomar started the wonderful tradition of very good Padres traded before becoming All-Stars elsewhere. This is the team that landed free agent pitcher Bruce Hurst and when he first donned the Padres brown uniform in spring training he was quoted as saying, "I feel like I got traded to UPS."

Late in that season, he had a no hitter going late in the game. I was there with my friend Mike where I ate a hot dog too quickly and had to go to the bathroom to try to throw it up when I was choking. My fantasia was that years after my death, friends would ask Mike, "Whatever happened to Charlie Recksieck" and he would say Charlie died at that Bruce Hurst no-hitter, whereby the friend would excitedly ask, "You were at that no-hitter?!" I lived. It ended up a 2-hit shutout.

It's hard to underestimate what Tony Gwynn meant to San Diego. The Padres achieved nothing before his arrival and while the team had a few instances where they were almost good enough, the same can't be said for Gwynn; he was always great, that’s no exaggeration. He still leads San Diego State basketball in career assists. He was known for loving Coca-Cola and donuts yet still stole bases. He loved people and watching game tape.

Gwynn hit over .300 every full season in the majors and usually way over .300. In 1994, it goes down as a players strike, but history really shows they were pushed into it by Bud Selig and the owners. Tony was hitting .394 when the season abruptly ended. You may recognize the number from 394 Pale Ale made by San Diego's Alesmith brewery.

Rod Carew, George Brett and Tony Gwynn are the only players in the last 85 years who've sniffed the .400 mark. Read this statistical deep dive on Reddit making the case that Tony Gwynn was very likely to finish over .400.

The winning blow was a Chris Gwynn single off Chan-Ho Park in 11th inning. Tony’s brother had a .178 average in one of his few seasons with the Padres, but that doesn’t matter. Winning the last three games in Los Angeles was all the sweeter. I also LOVE that this was Tommy Lasorda's last game as manager - although when it came to the one-way rivalry I do love Tommy's 80s line about Padre utility man Kurt Bevacqua, "Bevacqua couldn't hit water if he fell out of a fucking boat."

The 1998 Pades are legendary in San Diego because they ended up going further (and had better pitching), but the team was basically in place in 1996. We went to a lot of games that season (including the first time I was written up by stadium security for going on the field well after the game). The core of Gwynn, Ken Caminiti, Steve Finley, and Greg Vaughn create the most golden of not-quite-golden ages for the San Diego Padres.

This whole NL playoff run was magical. In the wild card round we had to beat in-his-prime Randy Johnson twice in a 5-game series - and somehow Jim Leyritz turned into an MVP and Sterling Hitchcock into a Cy Young level pitcher for a couple of weeks. Then the juggernaut Atlanta Braves stood in our way.

I was at Game 3 (putting us up 3-0), dressed as a Padre friar with giant wigs with my friend Marty for this game. I had been going to games at Qualcomm Stadium for 25 years at this point, and I never saw a better tailgate day or pumped-up crowd than this day. The Padres ended up winning a tense 4-1 game. As expected in the 9th inning, it was Trevor time. When they brought closer Trevor Hoffman in with his signature "Hell’s Bells" entrance - the crowd was the best I've ever seen. By the way, Tony Gwynn is the undisputed #1 all time Padre, but Hoffman may be number 2.

It was the most transcendent sports moment of my life. I wish any people who refuse to understand the appeal of sports were at this game.

Remember the "most transcendent sports moment of my life" description above? This was 7 days later, facing the 1998 Yankees. San Diego is underrated as a tortured sports city. We have won zero major sports championships. Yes, we had an indoor soccer dynasty, but bupkis for the Big 3. Clippers and Chargers eventually left. And the three times we made the big dance our opponents have been: the 1984 Detroit Tigers, the 1994 San Francisco 49ers, and the 1998 New York Yankees. Arguably 3 of the best all-time teams in their sport.

The Padres were underdogs for the third straight series and in Game 1 we had an unnbeatable Kevin Brown on the mound, and went ahead 5-2 on back-to-back HRs from Tony Gwynn and Greg Vaughn in Yankee Stadium. Then the pitching unraveled. We were hanging on for dear life with the bases loaded in the bottom of the 7th. So who gets the call from the bullpen? Washed up Mark Langston. One Tino Martinez grand slam later, this series was over. It was the Padres last World Series.

Of course, this historic Padres moment happened in Montreal, the only NL location more like baseball Siberia than San Diego. The Expos came into the league with the Padres in 1969 and never reached the WS until they moved to Washington. Bruce Bochy could have held Tony out to achieve the feat at home, but that kind of move would have been so un-Gwynn-like. He was a ballplayer, and more about everyday greatness than 2 HR games.

I'm going to make a statement that at first seems bold but becomes more unassailable the more you think about it: Tony Gwynn means more to his city than any other American athlete. If his playing career wasn't enough, he coached baseball at San Diego State, was a beloved Padres announcer, a warm civic presence, and even after his death, baseball is the only Big 4 sport left in San Diego.

Tony Gwynn’s presence is all over San Diego. His statue stands outside Petco Park, the entrance sits on Tony Gwynn Drive, and .394 Pale Ale has become a local institution. His son, Tony Gwynn Jr., does Padres radio broadcasts and sounds remarkably like his father.

"End of an era" can be a cliche, but not in this case. 2003 was the low point in Padres post-Gwynn blues, losing 98 games that year despite having some young talent. But the team handled the ceremony right. At the end of the game, those of us in the crowd didn't want to leave, and home plate was dug up and ceremoniously driven to the location for the new park.

I love Petco Park. But it’s emblematic of what happened to most baseball stadiums; in a downtown area where parking lots charge $50 for parking (or $100 if it’s a Dodgers or playoff game). Back at the Murph, it was all about tailgating. Picking up a 12-pack and some deli sandwiches en route on Friars Road was a tradition. If you really got around, you knew where various friends liked to park. Pre-gaming now is still fun at the Tivoli or other downtown bars, but it's not quite as magical as tossing a frisbee and shotgunning beers in a parking lot.

There was an exhibition game a couple of days before, and a SDSU college game a few weeks before as the true debut. Petco Park scores well in surveys of best MLB ballparks and with good reason. It's well situated for true fan active game watching, beautifully incorporates a historical brick building into the design of the park, and it's got enough fun locations, bells and whistles to engage the most casual of fans.

Also, on Opening Day we left my crummy seats to watch from the sushi bar in the left field Western Metal Supply building. While looking for a bathroom, I inadvertently discovered an open wine closet. And for some reason the bartender at said sushi bar provided me with a corkscrew, no questions asked. For Game 2, that wine closet was locked. Also, while improving the 2004 Padres finished 6.5 games out of first - yet by August I couldn't even leave my lousy tickets as tips in restaurants.

Trivia Question: When did the Padres first make the playoffs in consecutive years? Answer: 2005 and 2006. It was a funny team - Trevor Hoffman still here and Mike Piazza?! Young stars Adrian Gonzales and Jake Peavy (4 years later they would both be gone for reasons passing understanding) and a shortstop, Khalil Greene, who was a dead ringer for Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

This was the 2nd straight year the Padres were bounced out of the playoffs by the Cardinals, on top of that also happening in 1996. Padres fans treat the Dodgers as their hated foe, but for me it's the Cardinals. And a lot of that has to do with sportswriters' and announcers' coded language about Cardinals' "knowledgeable" baseball fans and their Midwestern ball club playing "the right way".

One of the most emotionally brutal "it was there and vanished" games sequences in the Padres' usually disappointing history. With two days left in the season, the Padres were up 2 games on Colorado for the NL Wild Card. Pads lost in Milwaukee, Rockies won on Saturday, fine - one game up. Sunday afternoon, Padres lose again in Milwaukee and the Rockies win. Gulp. One game playoff on Monday in Colorado.

It was a back-and-forth offensive game, and the Padres were up 8-6 in the 13th inning and couldn't protect the lead. The Rockies winning run was Matt Holiday who never actually touched home on a throw to the plate. Not that I'm bitter and remember this disappointment sharply.

The Padres didn’t return to playoffs or really have an interesting game til 2019-2020 when the team brought in Manny Machado.

That’s as good as it got before a September collapse to the Giants. I think I was at this particular game which didn't feel like a high point, but I suppose it was.

Padres were picked last going into season and you can see why. Undistinguished pitching staff, counting on retreads like Miguel Tejada and David Eckstein. But phenomenal fielding, great offense at the corners with Chase Headley and Adrian Gonzalez, plus Mat Latos and Jon Garland outperforming on the mound ... this was just a lovable team of upstarts. Maybe honestly the last scrappy one we’ve had, with all of the free agents and stars coming in 2020 and moving forward.

Padres had a legendary announcer, Jerry Coleman for 40 years. He was the heart of the team long before Tony Gwynn, a Yankee legend, and a war hero. He also put his foot in his mouth constantly, though in a loveable way. I've got a great Spring Training photo with Jerry in the booth in Yuma, AZ. Sure he had his catchphrases, "Oh, doctor!" and "You can hang a star on that one" but he's also the guy who said, "Rick Folkers is throwing up in the bullpen", "He slides into second with a stand-up double" and "Winfield goes back to the wall, he hits his head on the wall and it rolls off! It’s rolling all the way back to second base. This is a terrible thing for the Padres." That was in the prime of his announcing days. We all loved "The Colonel" but eventually he aged out of the position.

So, when Don Orsillo got here to call games, it gave us a broadcast team that’s a hugely important part of baseball fandom, more than other sports. I particularly think they’re great because they bring excitement in a close game, baseball knowledge and history when they need to, but also silliness when a game is out of hand; lots of broadcast teams can’t do that mix. I think them being under contract is the Padres 5th most important contract.

General manager AJ Preller came to the Padres in 2014 with new owner Peter Seidler. They were willing to spend money, sign free agents and make trades. Moves for Matt Kemp and Justin Upton didn't work out, but I think most of us Padres fans just appreciated them at least trying. Manny Machado was the first cornerstone acquisition that worked, and top prospect Fernando Tatis finally exploded on the scene in 2019. The 2020 edition of the San Diego Padres featured a faceless pitching staff; and timely home runs inspired the "Slam Diego" moniker after a late season bunch of grand slams.

It was a short season started during the COVID-19 pandemic and all fan-less games. Cheering on the Padres early arrival that season was strictly a TV event. But the modern era started then.

Personally, I've got to say the confusion about "will live baseball come back" and mass cancellations allowed me and a friend to waltz in and jump the non-existent season ticket line and get 19th row behind home plate seats in a masterstroke of timing.

By this time, the Padres were even more for real. The pitching staff now was at least equal to the bats - Yu Darvish, Joe Musgrove and Blake Snell for starters. We had some fan favorites like Ha-Sung Kim and Jake Cronenworth, but we were a star short. Then they dealt excellent prospects for Juan Soto. This seemed like the "put us over the top" move.

The energy walking into Petco Park on the first Juan Soto game was the biggest pre-game buzz I've ever seen outside of the playoffs. As much as this was about Soto, it was a 3-run HR in the 1st inning by the other trade deadline acquisition, middle infielder Brandon Drury from the Reds, where this coiled spring of a crowd exploded. This seems weird to say over playoff games, but this might be my favorite game as a Padres fan. Our success didn't seem scrappy or magical, but predictive.

We had no hope to catch the Dodgers and their 111 wins for the NL West, but we were ready to play with anybody.

I’m blowing past a couple of iconic series here. We beat the Mets (101 wins) then the Dodgers (111 wins) which is meaningful. The Dodgers rivalry was no small thing; I'll never forget where I was for the Jake Cronenworth lefty-on-lefty deathblow off Alex Vesia to pull away: I was playing music on stage. The crowd erupted, and it wasn't for our playing; we and the bar stopped to watch this great moment in Padres history.

Similarly, we were playing music at a brewery a week later down 2 games to 1 vs. the Phillies and their seemingly endless lineup of 3-run HR hitters. We blew a 4-run 1st inning lead, with never-quiite-good-enough Sean Manaya on the mount for us. Just a terrible feeling, the opposite of the previous week's triumph over the Dodgers.

Most Padres' fans' sentiment was something like, "We should be past this." If it was the Red Sox or Yankees, sports radio would be calling for the manager's head. But for Padres fans, forged in the lukewarm fire of low expectations, the prevailing attitude was, "We'll get em next year, boys." We did not get them next year. We did not even get in the playoffs the next year.

I could focus on losing the series against the Dodgers but instead prefer to mention our Game 2 win. It looked like we were there. 6 Padres HRs in the victory. It was a super tense game, some stupid taunting and decisions on both sides. A Dodger fan friend said it was Jurickson Profar enraging Dodgers fans after a great catch that motivated the Dodgers to beat the Padres. Personally, I think it was scoring no runs in Game 4 and Game 5 that really limited our chances.

I want to say this about the Dodgers-Padres rivalry. San Diego fans have an inferiority complex about Los Angeles, to begin with. Los Angeles is a cultural center and San Diego a large small town with beaches and rolled tacos. When Padres fans chant "Beat L.A." I cringe, every time. But you know what it takes to have a "rivalry"? For BOTH teams to feel like the opponent is their principal enemy. Alabama and Auburn have a rivalry. The Celtics and the Lakers have a rivalry. The Yankees and Red Sox have a rivalry. The Orioles think their rival is the Yankees, yet the Yankees don't lose a moment's sleep over the Orioles.

That said, this series got personal and with the Dodgers and Padres as division opponents facing each other in the playoffs in 2020, 2022, and 2024, I feel like we finally have that rivalry for real.