Echoes From The Field
June - My downfall

I try to be strong for her Try not to be wrong for her I have a purpose and I have to fight this I see your face with every punch I take And every bone I break, it's all for you This gift is my curse for now - Yellowcard, "Gifts and Curses"

Padres' Record: 41-36 (tied for second in the National League West with Los Angeles)

David Mamet once wrote that we as sports fans enjoy more the battle in which victory is earned than the blowout in which it is assured. In that case, June for the San Diego Padres was like a Mamet play without the swearing.

In some respects the destiny of Downtown was fulfilled. There was June 6, in which I was finally reunited with my hero Adam "The Heater" Eaton and he scorched the Milwaukee Brewers in a grand display of the reasons why he's an excellent all-around athlete. It's hard to forget the way my pulse picked up, the rush that I felt, and the snap and spark of knowing we had it in us all along. Since then, we've never looked back - Adam has cut a burning swath through all his starts, dominating like we all knew he could, and I still haven't lost the feeling that prompts in me.

Adam's fellow Disaster Squad veteran, Brian "B-Law" Lawrence, has also returned to the fine form I knew he was always capable of. Knowing the kind of stand-up guy Brian is, and respecting him immensely, it's good to see that all is not lost with the anchor of a fine pitching staff.

Then there's Tony Gwynn Award winner Mark "Captain America" Loretta, who quickly established himself as my favorite position player now that Mark Kotsay is in Oakland. Loretta plays excellent defense and is a clutch hitter, but beyond that he's just a solid guy: smart, tough, softspoken -- the unsung hero of this Padres team. He should be the starting National League second baseman, considering he leads NL second basemen in most categories, but he's definitely an all-star in my book.

But things haven't been perfect for my Padres this month. In fact, it has been the most difficult month of the entire season to live through. The rocky month, which will close at even, is sublimated by the ideological and emotional weight that it brings down square on my shoulders.

Believing, with a capital B, is tough. It's months like June, when you lose series you should've swept to teams you could beat in your sleep, that draw the line between pretenders and real Believers. I'd trusted that I was one of the latter, and I push myself as hard in Believing as the people I Believe in are out there pushing themselves. I hadn't even really considered it as anything outstanding until one incident during the Padres-Yankees series.

Adam had pounded the Bombers the day before, and in my eyes it was revenge for the bittersweet World Series sweep that ended our 1998 season. There was blood in the water now. Unfortunately for me, I was scheduled to work and had no access to the game, so I phoned home on a lunch break to inquire as to the score. No one was home, so I left a message to call me. No such call ever came, leaving me unsettled for the rest of my shift.

I later discovered my parents had chosen not to call me, because they knew the report of the loss would upset me and therefore be bad for all the people who had to deal with me. I laughed it off when I first heard it, but I grew to take it as a badge of honor: these people affect me that much, and I have given that much back to them. That's Believing for you.

And it's Believing that makes me struggle to keep composed on the shuttle back to the parking lot after a loss to Toronto in which I've nearly drowned in a sea of people complaining and taking cheap shots at these men which I've come to call heroes. It physically hurts sometimes. It's strange how I wouldn't be that afraid if somebody aimed a gun at me but my stomach will drop out from under me when I'm sitting in ballpark seats knowing there's nothing I can do to stop the pain.

The biggest crush is that it's a month without Jake Peavy, who up until then was the golden boy. Even my beloved Disaster Squad can't escape the damage of the June chaos.

Still, despite the fear and fire, by the end of the month we're on our way back. And if these first few days of July are any indication, we're going to stay that way.

Now for the awards ceremony:

Tony Gwynn Award for Player of the Month: Khalil Greene and I go three years back, and I remember thinking at Lake Elsinore that he just needed a bit more time. He certainly didn't need that much more time, because he's burning up the middle infield. Together with Mark Loretta, Khalil provides defense that is great fun to watch and hustle that never disappoints.

Randy Myers Award for Albatross of the Month: Brandon Puffer was traded to Boston on July 2. Can't say I'm going to miss you, Brandon, because you absolutely self-destructed. I'm so very grateful that you are leaving, and while I know you didn't try to screw up my team, I understand that you caused me many headaches. Without you, I will now have extra money that I won't be spending on Advil.

Highlight of the Month: A no-doubter here -- Adam Eaton pitching a month full of strong starts. After struggling in May with nine straight starts without a win, he got his third win on June 6 and hasn't looked back since. His record would look even better if the bullpen could hold the leads he gives them.

Regret of the Month: The loss of Jake Peavy was a crippling blow to a great young pitching staff. And one must feel sorry for Brian Sweeney, who beats Randy Johnson and then is demoted for the unspectacular and promptly traded Brandon Puffer. Don't worry, Brian, we won't forget that you did a great job!

That said, it's time to close the books on June and move into my birthday month. When next we speak of these subjects, yours truly will have hit nineteen and hopefully have been given a birthday present worth talking about by my Padres. Only time will tell, which is pretty much the way of everything in our crazy baseball world. Until then, keep the faith!