Destiny almost complete -- Eaton touches history with near no-hitter

I told you so.

Saturday night, Adam Eaton went from being one great starter to being part of San Diego Padres history as he pitched a no-hitter against the Kansas City Royals into the eighth inning.

No Padre has ever had a no-hitter in team history, though several have come close, but nonetheless Eaton's "SportsCenter"-leading, Web Gem-winning performance assured that his name won't be fading from club memory anytime soon.

Eaton, who went 4-1 in June, has a 1.83 ERA over his last eight starts and is allowing only 4.3 hits per nine innings in that same span.

His bid to be the first Padre to blank a team ended when Kerry Robinson misplayed a Dee Brown fly ball that went over Robinson's head and became a double.

Robinson, who was sent to the minors at game's end, also misplayed a ball by subsequent hitter Ruben Mateo that became a run-scoring double and ended Eaton's night.

72 of Eaton's 98 pitches were strikes.

Eaton struck out 10 and walked only one, giving up only two earned runs, one of which was charged to him, but allowed by floundering reliever Akinori Otsuka, who failed to hold the three-run lead Eaton entrusted him with.

It is the second time Otsuka has cost Eaton a victory. On June 22, after Eaton threw seven innings of shutout baseball, Otsuka surrendered a home run to tie the game. Saturday night, he surrendered a game-tying long ball to Tony Graffanino.

The Padres rallied in the bottom half of the eighth on a Robinson double, Jay Payton deep fly and a Khalil Greene sacrifice fly to go up 5-4, but reliever Scott Linebrink, who finished the eighth inning after Otsuka was pulled, was credited with the win.

This continues a string of tough luck for Eaton, who has seen three win-worthy starts become two no-decisions and a loss due to relief troubles, and whose record remains at 4-7.

Despite not getting the victory, the 26-year-old right-hander nonetheless made his mark on the baseball world and energized a record crowd at Petco Park in arguably the best game pitched by a Padre all year.

It's no secret that I am potentially the biggest Adam Eaton supporter in the known universe, short of anyone who actually knows him personally.

Since his arrival in 2000, I've been saying that he's someone to look out for. Since I started writing Echoes From The Field, I've been predicting a big explosion.

What I've been proselytizing isn't just luck or circumstance -- it's been inspired by what he's shown me. And Saturday night, showing me I wasn't wrong, he showed the world what he's made of.

It was a night to take notice of for baseball fans, if not sports fans. For Padres fans, it was a night to remember as part of history despite not making no-hitter history, and for this young sportswriter with a bit of hero worship going on, it was one heck of an experience.

(Memo to Casey, all of my teasing friends, and the guys at work who keep looking at me strangely every fifth day: Now do you get why I like this guy as much as I do?)

Beginning with our June 6 reunion that nailed him his third win of the year, Eaton has shown himself as the hardcore all-around athlete and undaunted professional he is, every start since a picture of dedication and talent. Saturday night was his best performance yet, if not the performance of his professional career.

Take a trip back with me and relive it all -- the adrenaline, the hope, the rush, the pride and the simple joy of being alive, all of it engendered by the best of Adam Eaton.

Friday: The Petco Park scoreboard informs me of the obvious -- the next day's starter will be Adam. I comment offhandedly that I'd really want to be there for that game. There's a strange feeling at the back of my mind that something will happen, but it's just a feeling and I don't linger on it long, telling myself that I always think that where Adam is concerned.

Saturday, 7:45 a.m.: Having designated my new Padres home jersey as my Adam Eaton jersey, I throw it on and head to work. I'm sure they'll make me take it off, but I want to follow through on the rule anyway. As soon as I get to work, I reluctantly fold it and put it in the drawer under my register. The only benefit is that it does provide a good view of my new team logo tattoo on my right forearm.

8:00 a.m.: The morning staff meeting ends. Our manager on duty is Al Larsen, a really great guy that lets us get away with a lot, and I'm suddenly kind of cold, so I decide to hell with it and put the jersey back on. As is also fifth-day tradition since before June 6, I put my (well-protected) Adam baseball card in front of my monitor for luck.

11:20 a.m.: Al calls and asks if I can fill in for an ailing co-worker. Knowing that I'm on deadline for two pieces and that it would mean missing the game, I take one look at Adam and tell him I can't do it.

Noon: Clocked out of work, I make my way home. I spend the next few hours writing a couple of pieces and working on my independent study -- nothing but baseball. Strangely, I feel compelled to start playing Adam's theme song, Tom Jones and the Cardigans' "Burning Down The House," before he actually starts pitching.

6:00 p.m.: I excuse myself from a conversation with a friend, telling him the rest of the night has already been reserved for Adam.

7:00 p.m.: With five minutes to spare, I lock myself in my bedroom and fire up my laptop, loading the MLB.com Gameday webcast as well as the MLB.TV live coverage. It's time to play "Burning Down The House" one more time and take a long look at that baseball card. I won't leave the room for the next hour and a half. In fact, I won't so much as move.

It's an interesting experience. I cheer for Adam just as I would were I right there with him, not caring who hears me or how loud I get. At the end of each of his half-innings and at-bats, I play another round of "Burning Down The House" until the commercials are over. Each out gets me fired up, and to be honest, I don't even start considering a no-hitter till the third -- the same inning Adam starts to think about it.

Fourth inning: Khalil Greene busts a two-run triple, giving Adam a three-run advantage after Jay Payton's early RBI, demonstrating his worthiness for the June Tony Gwynn Award. Not only am I happy he's done so well, I am really happy he's done it on behalf of my hero.

Fifth inning: Tom Jones is joined by Montell Jordan's "This Is How We Do It" between commercial breaks. I've never really had a sudden impulse to play that song before, not until Jake came back and now Adam is coming alive.

Sixth inning: Adam snares a lined comebacker by Ken Harvey in an excellent play that will become a "Baseball Tonight" web gem and a gutsy highlight of the evening. My reaction is understandably shocked and elated simultaneously as once again he proves that he's a hardcore ballplayer. The look on his face, as if he can hardly believe it himself, pretty much mirrors the fact that I think I might be dreaming.

After the top of the sixth, I'm brave enough to leave the room in order to find something to eat, and of course have to ask my father if he's paying attention, as if I thought he wouldn't be. This is where I realize ESPN has a running update on Adam's progress as part of their score ticker, and I know this is serious business now. This is history in the making.

Seventh inning: I really start to think Adam has a chance at making it. Traditionally, I'm superstitious and a bit skeptical, but I keep thinking that his becoming the first Friar to throw a no-hitter would be beautiful. It would, after all, ensure him a small but well-earned place in history.

I'm brave enough now to conference with my father between half-innings. He's actually seeming to be interested in this. It does pose an interesting question: could my hero restore my father's faith, and could I somehow get to be a part of it all? But I don't want to get ahead of myself.

I just put the CD in my stereo and wrench the volume so I can blast Adam's theme song as we near the end.

Eighth inning: I scream out loud when the webcast informs me the no-hitter is over. It might be the most anguished, vaguely physically painful, outburst in my recent memory. I'm more upset when the live coverage catches up and informs me that it's not really a hit -- it's Kerry Robinson misplaying the ball that costs Adam immortality. I curse him out more when he misplays the next ball for another double. There is no doubt in my mind that Adam should still be in it. The profanity starts right about there.

After those two hits, Adam's night is done, and he exits to a thunderous standing ovation, although clearly disappointed after having come this far. I cheer along with the record crowd, telling him he's made me more than proud of him and that he's got nothing to be ashamed of. I keep my eyes on him for as long as I can, knowing that The Man has once again surprised all but me.

Then my stomach lurches when Akinori Otsuka is announced as Adam's replacement. Given the events of only the previous day, I'm wary. And it's wary for a reason as Aki gives up the game-tying dinger. Cue more profanity, as I now know that even Adam's chances for a win are gone. If they'd shown it, I'm sure the look on my boy's face would've broken my heart.

Mercifully, Scott Linebrink holds it at even. I come out of my room, no longer invested so much with Adam out, to watch the end of the game. Khalil is clutch yet again and gets the run. For about two seconds we think that might mean Adam gets the win. Then we realize it makes no difference.

Ninth inning: Trevor Time, yet again, and Trevor is classic, yet again. It's over. Padres win. Yet somehow I feel somber because of what could have been and the fact that Adam goes winless yet again. There's a sadness to that, at the same time I respect everything he's just done for me. As the highlights pop up on my TV, I know that with the world watching, he delivered.

I've seen two no-hitters in 18 years, both of them against my Padres - one by A.J. Burnett in 2002, one by Randy Johnson earlier this year. I've never seen anyone come as close as Adam did to adding one in our column. Truth be told, I'd like to remember this one for a little while longer. My longtime favorite player and hero flirts with history -- maybe someday I'll get to write the Legend of Adam Eaton.

I've never been impressed by superstar heroes. Just give me a 26-year-old right-hander from Washington with the heart of a champion and I'll be fine. He'll be even better.

For one night, he held the world in his hands. I don't think it will be the last time.