Trevor Hoffman made history on Sunday afternoon, September 24, 2006 at Petco Park. With the final three outs in a 2-1 victory over the Pittsburgh Pirates, he recorded career save number 479 and passed Lee Smith to become the all-time Major League Baseball saves leader.

It was history in a statistical fashion, sure. Hoffman passed Smith's record in four fewer seasons than it took Smith to make it, and he did it with only two teams: his first two with the Florida Marlins, and the other 477 with the San Diego Padres. He also nailed down his eleventh 40-save season in 2006. With his 14-year career showing no signs of slowing down, the record can only go up.

It was history in a sense of respectability, too. Proclaimed by Sports Illustrated a few years ago to be "the secret of San Diego," Hoffman made his name as the best closer in baseball. He made somebody stand up and take notice; there's no denying what he accomplished. Even if ESPN failed to go live with the final out and didn't even feature the record as a top story, burying it behind football highlights. But Trevor had set a record. In a pennant race! The Padres demanded attention and Trevor brought it to them with three solid outs.

It was history in a community sense. The save came on the final home game of the 2006 regular season, in front of a crowd of almost 42,000 fans. It helped complete a sweep of the Pirates. And long after the game was over, the fans stayed to thank the man who has become the face of their team, and their city.

But it was history in the personal sense. The crowning achievement for a man worth remembering. The story of families, of brothers, of fathers and their children.

Trevor Hoffman has his father, Ed Hoffman, and older brother Glenn -- now the Padres' third base coach -- to thank. He embraced his family shortly after notching the historic save. Not to mention, watching from the opposing dugout was Jim Tracy, the ex-Dodger skipper who was Hoffy's minor league manager when he was converted in the Reds' farm system from a shortstop to a pitcher. No one had any idea how important that change would be. What history would be made.

Because Hoffman would set the example. And he'd set the bar high.

And standing in the right field lower bleachers, in the first row behind the scoreboard, my father and I watched history getting made.

I grew up with this team, and with the rise of Trevor Hoffman. I was eight in 1993, when he came over in the infamous "fire sale" from the Marlins. Here we are, 13 years later, and I'm still as impressed by him as I was as a kid. I've been around to see a countless number of his saves, both at Petco and at Qualcomm Stadium. I was present when he notched the historic save September 12, 1998, striking out the Dodgers' Matt Luke at 10:12 PM to clinch the NL West title for the later-to-be National League champs. And I remember all those tiny details like that, because Trevor is one of those people who creates events worth memorizing.

Not only is he the best closer in baseball, but he's also an amazing man. When I was a kid, my two heroes were Tony Gwynn and Trevor Hoffman. Not just for their talent but for their heart. For what they stood for, and how hard they worked. I've met Trevor on a few occasions, and he's always been great with the fans. He's active in the community, working with charities, giving back to the city that's given him so much fan support. Whenever I've been at a rally, he's always been one of the people who's taken time out to speak with the fans.

And no one has worked harder than Trevor. I've been to spring training. I've seen how hard he works. How he takes the other pitchers aside and helps them. How he leads the team.

He, quite frankly, does it all.

I wanted to be like that. Unfortunately, I don't have anywhere near his talent. I was just happy enough to see a good athlete, a great man, reach a once-in-a-lifetime goal and get recognized for the years of hard work.

I have an uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time when Padres history gets made, but I have to say this is the greatest historical event of them all for those of us who come from San Diego.

When Geoff Blum threw to Adrian Gonzalez for the final out, my father grabbed me in the tightest hug I think he's ever grabbed me in. I was crying. We were high-fiving and hugging people we didn't know. The emotion in the stadium at that moment was unbelievable.

And I could turn my head and look at my dad, the man who brought me here, who's been with me for all those saves, with whom I have my own special relationship. Just like Trevor has with his father.

I could say thank you.

Trevor Hoffman has done more than anyone ever expected him to. More than was ever expected of him. And, in the case of fathers and daughters and families and fans, more than he will ever know.