SAN DIEGO — The cars lined both sides of Tavern Road and Victoria Park Terrace as far as eyes could see. They jockeyed for spots because of a man sitting at a small table in a parking lot next to a giant ice machine, sandwiched between a landscaping business and a Shell station.
They came to get a glimpse of Padres' homegrown pitcher Joe Musgrove, to get close enough to truly sense and feel how much he wants to win a World Series as part of the team he rooted for as a kid in El Cajon.
Young boys in mustard-and-mud jerseys cautiously crept closer to the spot where he was being interviewed on 97.3 FM's "John Kentera Show." A 92-year-old fan talked about the franchise's long-yellowed Lane Field days.
Musgrove represents more than a local-guy-done-good story for a Major League Baseball team. He's the beating heart and sincere soul of an unprecedented collection of talent sharpening climbing tools for a dreamed ascent of the sport's elusive mountaintop.
They came to see Musgrove. As they swarmed a small drive-through coffee shop, Caffe Adesso, owned by his family and a partner, they also came to see what they hoped becomes a bigger, bewildering future.
Machado. Soto. Tatis. Bogaerts. Darvish. So many pieces will be required if the franchise launched in 1969 intends has a chance to go where it wants to go.
Musgrove is the most beloved piece. The most relatable piece. The most "he's one of us" piece. He tossed the club's first no-hitter. He delivered perhaps the most impressive start in team history, a playoff clincher last October against the Mets in New York.
"He's a man of the people. He's one of them, " said longtime Padres' TV analyst Mark Grant, an Alpine resident who stops at the coffee shop each morning on the way to Petco Park. "A lot of guys would go into hiding (with all the success).
"Joe answers the bell because he gets it."
As Kentera and Musgrove talked, the semi-circle of fans four- to five-deep in spots hung on each and every word. When Musgrove mentioned that he was a "young, arrogant" kid after being picked in the first round of the MLB Draft out of Grossmont High School, it sounded like something from another galaxy.
Musgrove is San Diego's connective baseball tissue.
"You know what's funny, if Joe isn't around (the coffee shop), they want to take pictures since I'm Joe's mom," said Diane Musgrove, during a break from handing out baseball cards to kids and mochas to adults. "We'd walk through Petco Park and people say, 'Momma Musgrove' ever since the no-hitter. It's heartwarming.
"People will say, hey, you could've gotten a lot more money in free agency. Joe's response is, what more could you ask for? You're playing at home. Your family's here. You're playing in the city where he grew up, watching the team he loved growing up.
"I still pinch myself."
The coffee shop sits a 40-minute drive northeast of Petco Park at the foot of the Cuyamaca Mountains. It's a world removed from the rush-hour traffic, angry car horns and — until Thursday — parking migraines.
The potential awaiting the Padres in 2023 travels, though, in any and all directions of San Diego County. If the team recreates the specialness of the NLCS run a season ago, Musgrove almost certainly will be a significant architect.
At the neighboring gas station, a car rolled down the window to ask a man pumping gas about the commotion. He explained, "Joe Musgrove is over there. You know, Mr. No-Hitter Guy." As his own words soaked in, the man abandoned his work truck at Pump 1 and decided he better walk across the lot to snag a picture.
Mark Musgrove said he would talk with Joe four or five times each week while his son played for the Astros and Pirates. The topic always drifted to the Padres, a lifelong link unbroken by the miles or business of baseball.
"He always want to know how they looked that night," Mark said. "He's very proud to be from San Diego. He's proud to be a San Diego Padre. His heart's always been in San Diego. He embraces charities and whatever he can do for the city. I think that comes across to people.
"Whether it's my son or not, how do you not like a guy like that?"
It's beyond like, Musgrove's relationship with San Diego. Diane, his mother, said business at the coffee shop has spiked 50 percent since the no-hitter. Success mixed with heartfelt authenticity can be a powerful elixir.
In so many MLB cities, the stars feel distant and something other than real. Hit some home runs. Cash a big check. Drink bottles of Cristal behind velvet ropes in dark corners of swanky nightclubs.
In San Diego, Musgrove simply is known as Joe. Not as in Average Joe, since he's anything but that. It's more like, our Joe. Ours. Us. We.
"Joe could pop into a Starbucks, but he always goes to local restaurants or Joe Schmo's coffee shop because they're local," Mark said. "He'll buy five pounds of it and have them break it down so he can hand it out to people.
"He's just really thoughtful."
They came to see Joe. They came to see the future. Their part of the future.
Never mind where the car's parked.
