SAN DIEGO — Amid the rumble and roar of Petco Park after the Padres stiff-armed the Braves in a wild-card playoff series Wednesday, Sheel Seidler paused in a tunnel next to the dugout. The emotions hit in flashes, blurring into something unexpected, knotting up both her head and heart.

There was a complicated jumble of happiness, relief and sadness, sparked by the baseball team her late husband Peter purchased in 2012 while fighting cancer as the couple started a family.

This was exactly the kind of scene — a bobbing sea of brown and gold, a community joyously aflame — he had envisioned for a sleepy franchise known across the country as much for a man in a chicken suit as what happened between the chalked lines.

As Sheel processed, she heard a voice.

“It’s right where fans would lean over the railing and talk to Peter,” Sheel said during a wide-ranging interview in her Coronado home. “Somebody said, ‘We love you Peter.’ It was very beautiful to me. Because at that moment I felt lost, but I also felt him next to me.

“To hear that voice out of nowhere, it held me up in that moment.”

Seidler, who died Nov. 14 at 63 from what she said was an infection related to his compromised immune system, had been more than the wildly successful founder of an equity firm and professional sports owner.

The relentlessly optimistic soul and champion of the city’s homeless connected authentically with seemingly all he met. Seidler did not wall himself off from the world, as the rich and influential so often do.

He leaned into it. He connected. He cared.

In a season full of tributes to Seidler from a team, fan base and city that adored him, the Padres have found themselves on a magic carpet ride. The best team in the game since the All-Star break has earned a National League Division Series date starting Saturday with the rival Dodgers, the team Seidler’s grandfather, Walter O’Malley, moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles in 1958.

The vision and millions of dollars that led to this point came from the sheer will — and wallet — of Seidler, who could not be in that tunnel but is still being cherished and loved.

The team’s trusted caretaker now becomes the woman who believed in him and partnered in giving San Diego something it could share and treasure beyond the sunshine and gentle waves.

“Baseball can bring so much joy into someone’s life,” Sheel said. “This game, right?”

This team and its exhilarating run eventually offered Sheel and the couple’s three children a pathway back from crushing grief and the haze of unexpected loss.

Peter Seidler seemed as healthy as could be expected for a two-time non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma survivor in early 2023 as the pair considered growing the family.

“We wanted to have another baby, so we had extra scans done,” Sheel explained. “We wanted an extra set of approval before we embarked on that, given his health history. They all said, ‘You’re good.’

“It wasn’t cancer he ultimately passed from. He ended up getting an infection related to having a compromised immune system. It was always something could potentially happen to someone who had cancer.

“But even then, we thought he’d be home by Christmas. So it was a shock. It just goes to show that God has a plan and sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it.”

The plan the Seidlers controlled was the future of the Padres. Sheel said their intention was for the team to stay in the immediate family, with her as the bridge between Peter and their children.

The team had grown into something singular and special that needed safeguarding.

Peter Seidler often talked about bringing a parade to the city that embraced his dogged pursuit of a championship. How much did he mean that?

“With every cell in his body,” Sheel said. “That comes from an intersection of an absolute love of the game, love of the city and a sort of righteousness like, ‘These fans deserve this. They have waited way too long and it’s not right.’”

So he chased what some thought was unachievable.

While inattentive A’s owner John Fisher watched a franchise wither on the vine while alienating the city of Oakland, Peter Seidler chose a sport-rattling path. He pushed chips to the middle of the table, signing off on record contracts for players like Manny Machado and Fernando Tatis Jr.

He treated his baseball team like a shared community garden, watering and nurturing it to unseen and robust health while allowing all around to enjoy and join in.

What would he say about the Padres reaching such intoxicating potential?

“Well, he wouldn’t make it about him, No. 1,” Sheel said. “He would be happy for (president of baseball operations) A.J. (Preller), the players, the players’ families, the fans, the city of San Diego. He would be so happy that they were having such a joyful experience.”

The fact that the road has led to this particular juncture against a Dodgers team with blood ties who signed more than a $1 billion worth of contracts leading into the season?

The country watching with rapt attention?

Seidler would be both calm and resolute.

“Peter was a cool cat,” Sheel said. “I noticed in conversations where people asked about the Dodgers, he would pivot away from it. He loved his grandfather and his uncle (later owner Peter O’Malley), but he didn’t think it was appropriate in a conversation with the Padres to talk about it.

“To him, we’re all in. There’s no room to talk about another team. He really felt strongly about that. He’s grateful for where he came from, but San Diego deserves its own thing. We’re not a footnote. We’re the actual main character.

“I could hear him say, ‘We’ve earned this and we’ve earned the right to be here. It wasn’t a gift. It wasn’t a fluke. We’re here for a reason.”

Through it all, Seidler’s humanity shined.

A driver hired for work or Padres trips in Denver so appreciated Seidler that he would bring him a cooler of homemade food. The connection became so comfortable and valued that the man gave him a gift of traditional garb from his country.

When Seidler made late-night walks in Pacific Beach to exercise and anonymously check in with those most in need, he became acquainted with a worker at a 7-Eleven. Though the person had no idea of Seidler’s wealth or role in the community, he asked him to be a reference for a job at a car dealership.

Seidler gladly did.

“Peter and I shared an outlook of the world of, we’re a human family,” Sheel said. “From that came his passion to help the homeless and the joy of connecting with everyone. It was like, ‘Show me. What’s going on with you?’ It’s that worldview that I think people connected with.

“It stemmed from, we’re all in this together. Baseball was just a perfect avenue for that. That was just an amplification of Peter’s personality.”

So, Peter’s Padres charge forward with his distinctive heartbeat.

Players make heart symbols with arms overhead after big hits. The team wears heart-shaped “PS” patches. A “Compete for Pete” sign hangs along the stairs of the home dugout at Petco Park.

“The children and I are so grateful to the city and the fans and the players and everyone who has kept his memory front and center,” Sheel said. “When that triple play happened that clinched the playoff berth (against the Dodgers, in L.A.), hearing everyone else say that was Peter was so like, ‘Wow, you see it too.’

“There’s a crazy aspect to grief where you’re always looking for signs because you miss the person so much. That’s magical thinking.

“To know that we’re not alone in that magical thinking, you just want to say thank you.”

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