Before the music, the autographs, and the packed concourses at Petco Park this weekend, the San Diego Padres chose to start somewhere quieter — and far more meaningful.
They went to school.
In the days leading up to Fan Fest, Padres players spread across San Diego, stepping into classrooms, playgrounds, and community spaces, bringing baseball directly to the kids who dream about it the most. No spotlights. No scoreboards. Just presence.

At Angier Elementary School, second and third graders didn’t just watch baseball — they played it. Whiffle balls flew across the school field as cheers echoed through the campus, briefly turning recess into something that felt a lot like a big-league moment.
For the kids, it wasn’t about stats or standings.
It was about seeing their Padres.

“It was cool because I got to see one of my favorite baseball teams,” said one student, his excitement simple and unmistakable.
For pitcher J.P. Sears, that reaction is exactly the point.
“Seeing us walk up probably brings a lot of light into kids’ lives,” Sears said. “Sometimes it’s just a distraction from whatever else is going on. That matters.”

Second baseman Jake Cronenworth felt the same pull — a reminder of where it all starts.
“We were in their shoes once,” he said. “To see their excitement just from us being there… it’s truly special.”
The stops weren’t limited to schools. Padres players also visited the Ronald McDonald House’s Padres Clubhouse, spending time with children and families who needed joy more than a jersey or a signature. For first baseman Gavin Sheets, the responsibility that comes with the uniform was front and center.

“You carry yourself differently,” Sheets said. “You show them right from wrong. To be able to do that through baseball is awesome.”
Back at Angier Elementary, the visit slowed down in a way that felt intentional. Players sat with students and read a book about kindness. Then the kids shared their own examples — how they helped a friend, supported a classmate, or showed love at home.
No drills. No instruction. Just values.

That’s the part that doesn’t always show up in box scores.
In a sport often defined by contracts, projections, and pressure, these moments reveal another truth: franchises aren’t just built on wins. They’re built on connection. On showing up. On letting kids see that the players they cheer for care about more than the game.

Fan Fest will come and go this weekend. The crowds will be loud. The excitement will be real.
But for the kids who ran the bases at school, who played catch with a Padre, who heard a story read by someone they idolize — this week may be the moment baseball truly became theirs.
And years from now, when one of them pulls on a brown and gold cap, they won’t remember the standings.
They’ll remember the day the Padres came to them.
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