I have a friend who has lived in San Diego county for over twenty years but who has never come around to following the city's sports franchises. The two teams he follows are found in locations in which he has never lived... and of course both of those teams have won championships so he's a happy fan. He has his father to thank for this bit of indoctrination.
From time to time I will write a post regarding the San Diego Padres' choice in uniform colors. Invariably this friend of mine will joke,
"...another piece on fashion. That's all San Diego has to talk about."But to think that what I'm writing has anything to do with fashion is to ignore your ability as a functioning human. To ignore your capabilities as an evolved member of the species who can read and think critically.
You see, I don't believe in fashion statements...
If I believed in fashion statements you would probably catch me in something other than flip-flops and jeans. I just can't be bothered by fashion.
But when I begin to wax nostalgic about the Padres in brown it has nothing to do with fashion and everything to do with the team's history as a Major League Baseball franchise in the city of San Diego.
Before we talk about the Brown though, we need a little history lesson...
The Padres were but a fledgling MLB one-year old* when the landscape of baseball would be forever altered. In 1970, St. Louis Cardinals outfielder Curt Flood decided that it was inherently unfair to be the property of the team who drafted you for your entire career.
Flood's decision to challenge Major League Baseball left behind a powerful legacy for players:
free agency.It is free agency that has robbed the smaller markets, like San Diego, of marquis players playing the duration of their careers as Padres. Any player that came along before Curt Flood was an indentured servant of that organization. It sucked for that player but boy did it do a lot for establishing a team's identity. Players who were bound to a team did a great deal to bolster the recognition of that team by compiling Hall of Fame careers in one uniform. Identity tends to breed credibility.
This all began to crumble as the Padres came into existence and consequently the Padres have had very few identifiable players in their history: Randy Jones, Tony Gwynn and Trevor Hoffman.
So where do fans hang their hat absent Cooperstown busts and the flashy names stitched to the back of a jersey?
Imagine this team here in San Diego as a tree. A tree's life is only as good as the strength of its roots and those roots are wrapped up in both the city's name and the team's name. If those two things remain constant an organization can remain operational and identifiable. But there is one additional root that provides the strength, identity, and above all, credibility:
the team's uniform. It matters not what the uniforms look like, only that there is some level of consistency across the years. Teams that achieve this consistency also achieve credibility and with that trait, fans are created and most importantly retained. Absent the faces of recognizable superstars team's
must rely on this consistency to provide a credible product.
Would you date someone who has no sense of identity? [rephrase] Isn't it difficult to date someone who lacks their own sense of identity? Yes it is difficult as I'm sure some of you are well aware... and you're probably all Padres fans**.
The Padres have run away from this notion of identity, a tree thinking it can survive without roots. Own who you are and don't change based on the whims of market research that eventually becomes outdated every six seasons. Own who you are and don't apologize for it.
This was all a very long winded way of saying that you should sign the
Bring Back The Brown San Diego petition.*** Sign up for your heritage...
and own it! Bring Back The Brown also just did an interview over at Gaslamp Ball. Read it. *One year old as a MLB franchise. But you know your history... that the Padres were in fact born in 1936... which means they were really old, like an old maid... or maybe Reese Witherspoon-ish.** We're gluttons for punishment aren't we? *** It was also a long winded way of attacking Curt Flood's legacy, may he rest in piece, and its consequences of preventing recognizable faces in a good many of baseball's modern franchises.
