(April 8 marks the 50th anniversary of the first major league game in Padres history. To commemorate the occasion, the Union-Tribune is producing a nine-part series on memorable debuts through the years. Today: Chapter Three ... Hey, 19)

A restless plane ride from Hawaii to San Diego was followed by a sleepless night in bed.

It’s no wonder the young outfielder arrived at San Diego Jack Murphy Stadium 5 1/2 hours before the first pitch for the midseason game — July 19, 1982, to be exact — between the Phillies and Padres.

The ballpark seemed like the most logical place to burn off his nervous energy, even if virtually the only others in the Padres clubhouse at that hour were equipment manager Ray Peralta and longtime clubhouse man Whitey Wietelmann. Peralta directed the new call-up to his locker. Wietelmann brought over his jersey. It was No. 19.

“When I looked at it, I was just happy it was lower than 53, which is the number I wore in spring training,” Tony Gwynn said during a conversation seven years ago on the 30th anniversary of his major league debut.

Gwynn said Wietelmann told him only a few players had been given No. 19 for the Padres. Ted Williams wore the number for the minor league Padres during their first season here in 1936. Wietelmann wore it in the 1950s for the team. The only player to wear it before Gwynn for the major league Padres was outfielder Gene Richards in 1978.

After providing the number’s history, Wietelmann concluded by saying, “so don’t disgrace it.”

“I’ll try to do the best that I can, Mr. Wietelmann,” Gwynn said.

Gwynn’s debut came just 14 months after the San Diego State baseball and basketball star was selected in the third round of the 1981 draft. It followed a whirlwind rise for Gwynn through the minor leagues, batting a collective .348 over 158 games in stops at Single-A Walla Walla, Wash., Double-A Amarillo, Texas, and Triple-A Hawaii in Honolulu.

“I wasn’t nervous or anything,” Gwynn said of his arrival to the big leagues. “I did want to get a hit in my first game — and I ended up getting my first hit in the eighth inning.”

It was a double to center field off Phillies reliever Sid Monge.

“I got a fastball out over the plate and just kind of carved it in to left-center field,” Gwynn said. “You get to second base, you’re kind of basking in the glory of getting a hit. ... I’m standing on second base, kind of looking around and see them flash on the board that I got my first big-league hit. And as I turned back around, there’s Pete Rose standing in front of me.”

Rose, the Phillies’ first baseman, had been trailing the play.

“First big league hit, huh?” Rose said.

“Yes, Mr. Rose,” Gwynn said.

That’s when Rose stuck out his hand. Gwynn accepted it with a big grin on his face.

“Shaking Pete Rose’s hand is what sticks out for me,” Gwynn said. “It was an era when veteran guys didn’t say a whole lot to young guys. He didn’t have to do that but he did. That always resonated with me.”

So did this: After shaking hands, Rose took a few steps back toward first base, stopped, turned and said, “Congratulations, kid. Don’t catch me in one night.”

A day earlier, Gwynn had no idea he was about to be promoted to the major leagues. In fact, when he was called into the office of Doug Rader, Gwynn’s manager at Triple-A Hawaii, the outfielder assumed he was about to be scolded for a baserunning blunder the previous game.

Instead, Rader told Gwynn he wouldn’t be playing in that night’s game because there was a plane to catch for the mainland. Gwynn thought Rader was pulling his leg.

“No, I’m serious,” Rader said.

Gwynn’s first call was to his wife, Alicia, who was six months pregnant at the time with Tony Gwynn Jr.

“I can still hear the scream out of the phone in my ear of how happy she was that we were going to get to go back to San Diego,” Gwynn said.

Gwynn’s wife was joined at the game by his parents, who drove down from their home in Long Beach. Younger brother Chris Gwynn, a month away from following in Tony’s footsteps at SDSU, stayed home to play in his own summer ball game, but remembers the excitement of the moment.

“It wasn’t jumping around; we’re not a jumping around family,” Chris Gwynn said by phone this week. “But I know my dad was over the moon. Mom was more stoic. But they both were happy.”

Speaking with Tony after the game, Chris remembers, “he was just trying to take it all in and continuing to perform and play well. ... The way he was playing, it was just a matter of time. He just needed a chance to get in the lineup.”

The rookie was warmly welcomed in the Padres clubhouse by second baseman Tim Flannery, catcher Terry Kennedy and outfielder Ruppert Jones, among others.

Gwynn did receive some needling. Someone put stick pins along the bottom edge of his jersey. That was the extent of his hazing. That, and one player pretending to throw the ball from Gwynn’s first hit into the stands. Gwynn took the ball home and put it behind glass in his trophy case.

The starting pitcher for the Phillies was Mike Krukow. Padres manager Dick Williams penciled Gwynn into the starting lineup in center field. He batted fifth in the order.

“Just play the game like you’ve been playing it,” Williams told him.

Gwynn was surprisingly calm for his first plate appearance.

“As I walked up to the plate, obviously, you could hear the crowd cheering for you but when you’re playing you just try to focus in on what you’re trying to do.”

The first-inning at-bat produced a sacrifice fly to center field for his first RBI. A lineout to shortstop and a strikeout followed before the eighth-inning double. Gwynn added a single in the ninth, giving him a 2-for-4 performance in his debut.

Rose also had two hits in the 7-6 Phillies win, giving him 3,800 for his career. Gwynn, who finished with 3,141 hits, didn’t catch Rose, who retired four years later with 4,256. He made a pretty good go at it, however.

No one had more hits than Gwynn over the next 20 years.

Wednesday: Randy, Willie and the ball that’s still going ...