It's up to Ripken, Gwynn to do the right thing

Sporting News, The, Sept 11, 2000 by Ken Rosenthal

At first glance, they could not be more different. Cal Ripken is tall, muscular and white, a native of Aberdeen, Md. Tony Gwynn is short, squat and black, a native of Long Beach, Calif.

Who would have guessed that their careers would nm so parallel?

That their hometown loyalties would contribute to their vast popularity?

That their efforts to postpone retirement would pose such vexing issues to the teams to which they've been so committed?

It's almost as if the two featured position players in George Will's baseball tome, "Men at Work," have morphed into one.

Ripken is Gwynn is Gwynn is Ripken.

Neither wants to admit the end is near, even if their teams seem ready to begin new eras.

Neither wants to begin his five-year countdown to the Hall of Fame.

In Baltimore, Ripken rejoined the Orioles on September 1 intending to prove he can overcome three years of back trouble and merit a contract for 2001.

In San Diego, Gwynn continued rehabilitating his surgically repaired left knee, uncertain he would return to the Padres this season, or ever.

They're both 40. Both old school. Both squeaky clean. Both proud craftsmen, devoted students of the game and in constant search of perfection.

So, how do you tell them goodbye?

It is never easy for a superstar to retire, but for both Ripken and Gwynn, there's an added layer of tension that makes the question even more difficult.

No one can pinpoint how much their respective teams owe them, what control they deserve over their own futures, when it will be time for both sides to move on.

These are not ordinary superstars.

"They both mean a tremendous amount to their franchises, their dries and their regions," says Larry Lucchino, the Orioles' president from 1988-93, and the Padres' president since 1994. "They've become icons who transcend sports."

Ripken and Gwynn haven't simply been bigger than their teams. In many seasons they've been all their teams had to offer. And yet they've repeatedly signed below-market contracts to remain with the only organizations they've ever known.

They've sacrificed material gain. They've sacrificed team success. Ripken never has been paid more than his present $6.3 million; Gwynn never more than his present $6 million. Together, they've played 39 seasons--and appeared in only three World Series.

Then again, they merit only so much sympathy.

The choices were theirs.

And the benefits they derived from staying in one place cannot be measured by dollars or even championship rings.

Ripken, in particular, was better off staying with the Orioles--better off professionally, better off financially, better off in almost every way.

Most teams projected him as a pitcher coming out of high school, but late Orioles scout Dick Bowie suggested the club play him at shortstop and former manager Earl Weaver moved him from third to short in the majors.

Then there is this:

Ripken might never have broken Lou Gehrig's consecutive-games record playing for a team in a more demanding city, a West Coast team that endured more travel, or an artificial-turf team that incurred more injuries.

Almost any team but the Orioles.

The hometown element was part of the magic the night Ripken broke Gehrig's record. It remains a major part of his image, and his image has gained him countless endorsements.

He has done OK by the Orioles.

And Gwynn has done OK by the Padres, too.

Winning eight batting titles didn't bring Gwynn the same fame that The Streak brought Ripken. But if anything, he might be bigger in San Diego than Ripken is in Baltimore.

Ripken is part of a fabled Orioles' tradition that includes Brooks Robinson, Frank Robinson, Jim Palmer and Eddie Murray.

Gwynn is the Padres' tradition, the one player who stuck it out through all the poor ownerships, all the fire sales, all the trials and tribulations.

Like Ripken, he found a comfort level in a smaller market, a comfort level that he could not have attained elsewhere. But like Ripken, he probably considers it payback time.

Again, how do you tell either goodbye?

Ripken's situation appears more clear-cut. His contract is up. If he looks reasonably fit this month, the Orioles should--and probably will--offer him one more year. If not, he likely will make the hard decision before the club makes it for him, just as he did when he ended The Streak in September 1998.

The Orioles, mind you, don't have a successor ready at third base. But some club officials would prefer the roster and payroll flexibility--even if Ripken was on a 28-homer, 94-RBI pace before his back gave out in June, even if he would serve as a positive example to a young, rebuilding team.

A tough call? Perhaps.

But not as tough as the Padres'.

Gwynn may not return this season. And the day after the World Series ends, the Padres must decide whether to exercise his $6 million option for 2001, or buy him out for $2 million and make him a free agent.

The Padres gladly would guarantee the money if they knew Gwynn would be available for 130 to 140 games in the outfield. But they're paying $6 million this season--and could pay $2 million more--for a grand total of 127 at-bats.