The Gwynn-Leyritz lesson: Nobody's perfect

Sporting News, The, August 23, 1999 by Jon Heyman

We all learned something when Jim Leyritz recently suggested Tony Gwynn needs to be more team-oriented, and it's not that Leyritz can be too mouthy for his own good.

We already knew that. We learned that, as much as we hate to admit it, our baseball icons have flaws and foibles and maybe even a few warts, just like the rest of us.

Gwynn is not a perfect person, nor probably even a perfect teammate. This is not a crime. Nor should it be. As even Gwynn concedes, "Nobody's perfect" Not even a lifetime .339 hitter.

We all know this. Yet, it is hard to accept about our heroes.

Leyritz doesn't completely understand this about heroes, either. In once comparing Gwynn to Leyritz's former Yankees teammate Don Mattingly, Leyritz referred to Mattingly as "a god." Not so. Mattingly is revered as a wonderful teammate, but he could be surly as heck when he was injured or strung. Part of Leyritz's problem is that he likely had unreasonably high expectations for Gwynn.

Back in San Diego, they're still grappling with the concept Gwynn is imperfect. Many seem to think that because Gwynn is arguably the best hitter of his generation, a friendly fellow and loyal to the point of staying in San Diego even though it probably cost him as much as $30 million (one agent's estimate), that there is absolutely nothing about him worthy of criticism. Leyritz's comment about Gwynn lacking "intangibles" appeared in the San Diego Union-Tribune shortly after Leyritz left town, and Leyritz said his wife, who stayed behind to pack, endured verbal abuse from many Gwynn fans.

It was interesting to see many of Gwynn's buddies in the media come to his defense after Leyritz pointed out Gwynn skipped a trip and skipped out of games early. What is the defense for this? Is the traffic in San Diego that bad? Did he have free passes to the zoo? Says Padres general manager Kevin Towers, "If you're looking for a cheerleader, that's not Tony. He's not the kind to run around with pompous."

Manager Bruce Bochy says he doesn't require injured players to hang around the dugout. Nor should he. And Gwynn is unapologetic about his early departures. "Why should I?" he says. "I'm on the D.L. I got to the park at 12:30. I did my rehab. I left in the eighth inning. No I don't (have any apologies). None whatsoever."

Just as interesting to see was that there was not an outcry of support for Gwynn in the Padres' clubhouse despite the fact the players still have to live with him. In fact, two unnamed players told the Union-Tribune they agreed with Leyritz--one said Gwynn is "a bit self-centered"--and the hunch is many more would have liked to.

One other person close to several Padres veterans said players do wonder why Gwynn often seems content after getting three hits in defeats. Perhaps Gwynn is just a naturally happy fellow, but his teammates do wonder about it.

Perhaps there's an element of jealousy in some of his teammates. After all, they all are second fiddles. Leyritz, in particular, despises being a second fiddle. In his earlier stint with the Yankees, teammates derisively nicknamed Leyritz "King," and "Jumbo," for his giant ego, and he ate it up. Yet, there is an element of truth in what Leyritz says.

Leyritz may have faults--one A.L. exec said it makes sense for Leyritz to speak about this because "Leyritz knows selfish"--but nobody would accuse him of dishonesty. He also has ample courage. Several of Gwynn's buddies have tried to score points by noting Leyritz knew he was on his way out the door when he said this. That may be so, but he hadn't left yet. His return to the Yankees had yet to be announced. The reason the story was printed after the trade is that the reporter who had the story understandably held it until he could get Gwynn's reaction. Gwynn says Leyritz should have come directly to him; but really, Leyritz had to know that a private conversation between a glorified role player and a Cooperstown lock would have had zero impact.

Gwynn will tell you that it doesn't matter what Leyritz thinks. "I could get into a (spitting) match with him," Gwynn says "But what purpose is that going to serve? I'm the player I am. And he's the player he is."

Ouch.

Anyway, the issue isn't Leyritz. We already knew he wasn't perfect.

As for Gwynn, though his manager calls him the most generous guy he has ever known and his G.M. says he's a great role model for kids, he could do better.

Everyone is allowed one off-day, but then last week, four days after getting his 3,000th hit, Gwynn proclaimed he wasn't speaking to the media his first day in New York and even requested, and received, a commissioner's office guard to make sure no pesky people would try to engage him in conversation.

One writer tweaked him in the newspaper for not talking, and the next day Gwynn said he had been "blasted," "diced" and "grilled." Sheltered in San Diego, he is not used to even mild criticism. Gwynn explained that he was "out of gas," that the 3,000-hit parade "drained" him. There was a lot of attention paid to his achievement, yes, but it paled compared with Mark McGwire's chase last year.