(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 One ... ‘Stupid Ballplaying’)

The Padres would not be celebrating their 50th anniversary in San Diego this year had it not been for one man.

Ray Kroc.

In December of 1973, National League owners unanimously approved the sale of the Padres from original owner C. Arnholt Smith to businessman Joseph Danzansky, who planned to move the team to Washington, D.C.


So done was the deal that when the Topps Company starting rolling the presses on its 1974 card set, Padres cards were printed with “WASHINGTON” in the upper left corner and “NAT’L LEA” in the bottom right corner instead of the team’s nickname.

A hitch in the sale opened the door for Kroc to step in and purchase the Padres for $12 million, the sale closing on Jan. 25, 1974. San Diegans didn’t know much about the new owner at the time, other than that he owned McDonald’s.

That all changed three months later, when Kroc took to the public address system during the eighth inning of the home opener between the Padres and the Houston Astros at San Diego Stadium. He criticized his players for “stupid ballplaying” in the midst of a 9-5 loss to the Astros.

With those words, Kroc forever endeared himself to the fans and the city, although his wife Joan did have a question for him that night: “Were you drunk?”


“I assured her, I wasn’t drunk,” Kroc said in “Grinding it Out,” his autobiography. “I was just plain mad as hell.”

“Jerry Coleman and I were broadcasting the game,” former Padres broadcaster Bob Chandler said by phone this week. “You have to understand, the Padres began the season in Los Angeles and the Dodgers basically blew the Padres out three straight games (outscoring them 25-2).”

The Padres returned to San Diego after three lopsided losses for their home opener against Houston and quickly find themselves trailing 6-0 after two innings and 9-2 by the time Kroc starts clearing his throat.


“Jerry said to me in the booth, ‘Well, Bob, the Padres’ new owner, is going to make a few comments. Let’s see if we can pick up what he says.’ ”

Moments before Kroc took the mic from public address announcer John DeMott, the Padres had loaded the bases with no outs.

“Ray’s thinking, maybe they have a chance to come back,” Chandler said. “And then with one out our hitter pops up to the Houston first baseman in foul territory. Ray’s thinking, well, that’s only two outs, we still have a chance.

“Except our runner at first base, who was Matty Alou, an 18-year veteran, he had a brain cramp, forgot how many outs there were and got doubled off first base to end the inning.”


That’s when Kroc addressed the fans.

“I have some good news and some bad news,” he began. “The good news is you loyal fans have outstripped Los Angeles. They had 31,000 on opening night. We have nearly 40,000 (39,083 to be exact).”

Just then Kroc was interrupted when a streaker ran across the field. “Get him out of here,” he yelled. “Take him to jail.”

Kroc continued: “The bad news is I’ve never seen such stupid ballplaying in my life.”


The crowd loved it. Of course, the players and coaches for both teams had a different reaction.

“In my 19 years in baseball I’ve never been called stupid in the middle of a game by an owner,” Padres first baseman Willie McCovey said. “That statement is going to be ringing in guys’ ears.”

Said Houston third baseman Doug Rader: “He thinks he’s in a sales convention dealing with a bunch of short-order cooks.”

Padres owner Ray Kroc throws the ceremonial first pitch at the 49th All-Star baseball game on July 11, 1978, at San Diego Stadium. (Photo by Jerry Windle / San Diego History Center / Union-Tribune Collection)


Baseball commissioner Bowie Kuhn told Kroc to apologize. He did the following day, saying, “I used a bad choice of words and I’m sorry. I was bitterly disappointed and embarrassed . . . I meant to say we were playing lousy ball. It was nothing personal. I’m afraid I talked without thinking.”

The Padres players accepted Kroc’s apology and put the incident behind them. But it wasn’t forgotten. Not by a long shot. It was a defining moment for baseball here, with the fans realizing the owner was one of them (give or take a few hundred million dollars).

The Padres would pass the one million mark in home attendance for the first time — prompting a bumper sticker giveaway: “One million Padres fans. I was there” — drawing 1,075,399 for the season. That was 431,000 more fans than in 1973. This despite the team finishing last for the fifth straight season, with a 60-102 record.

Ray Kroc transformed baseball here. It wasn’t always easy to watch what was going on down on the field, but Kroc’s ownership made it fun to be at the ballpark.


Kroc passed away in January of 1984, nine months before the team reached the playoffs and World Series for the first time. He was there in spirit. Padres players and coaches wore his initials RAK on their sleeves.

Kroc was asked years later if he regretted saying what he did that night.

“The answer is hell no!” he said in Grinding it Out. “I only regret that I didn’t lay it on them a little harder. I did have to make a diplomatic apology to the commissioner, but I have the satisfaction of being responsible for a new rule in baseball — no one but the official announcer can use the public address system at a game.”

Ever the promoter, Kroc took advantage of Rader’s statement from that infamous night. When Houston returned to San Diego Stadium in June, the Padres had “Short Order Cooks” night. Short-order cooks throughout San Diego and Imperial counties were invited to the game for free.


Rader joined in the spirit of the moment. He put on a cook’s hat and apron before the game, delivered the lineup card to the plate umpire on a frying pan and flipped it with a spatula.

“Boys,” he said to them, “what’s your pleasure: rare, medium or well done?”

Among those in the stands the night Kroc grabbed the mic was a San Diego State student dressed in a chicken suit.

“I heard Ray Kroc blasting away up there, and I got scared,” said Ted Giannoulas, dressed as a chicken at a game for the first time. “I thought he was going to turn his ire on me for being a chicken and say something like, ‘and get that chicken out of here, too, because we like hamburgers around here, not chickens.’


“I bolted all the way up the Plaza and went right to my car out in the parking lot, undressed, threw the suit in the trunk and took off.”

But that’s another story.

Monday: Why did The Chicken cross Friars Road?