Memory is a funny, fickle thing. As the Padres prepare to spend the weekend celebrating the 1998 National League Championship team, a group who played — my god — twenty years ago, I struggle to pick out specific moments from my recollections of that season. I was thirteen then, no longer a child, but far from an adult. I was lucky enough to spend plenty of time at the Murph that year, but so much of it is a blur. I can’t recall anything Tony Gwynn did with any clarity; I was certainly watching when he went deep at Yankee Stadium in October, but that’s all I can say about it for sure.
(Mis)remembering the 1998 Padres
