I’ve made no secret about it: I’m one of those insufferable assholes who originally jumped on the Seattle Mariners’ bandwagon during the closing few weeks of the 1995 season. I would have been 14 years old at the time, which quite honestly is pretty late in the game, as far as getting into a new sport is concerned. You normally develop those lifelong attachments to your sports teams in your childhood, in the 8-10 years old range.
Ken Griffey’s grotesquely swollen jaw …
At some point in the mid-to-late 80s (I want to say the 1987 range), I started getting into the Seahawks. By 1988, I was on a 3 packs a week habit (football cards, Topps). By 1989 and 1990, it was probably closer to 6 packs (Pro Set). I joined my dad’s work’s NFL Pick ‘Em pool against all the adults and even won some weeks (at $5 per entry per week, that was a solid chunk of change for a kid under 10 years of age). I was a football lifer, no doubt about it.
In 1993, I started getting heavily into the NBA and the Sonics. So, maybe they were my gateway drug into other sports. Regardless, baseball has always been my third sports love, and that’s probably the way it’s always going to be (even though I mostly ignore the NBA now and will continue to do so until Seattle gets a team again).
I was always aware of the Mariners existing, as a kid. They were consistently losing, so I didn’t really see the point in paying attention. I didn’t have a parent or other type of older person I looked up to who were baseball fans. I come from a family of football fans, period. Any other sports would have to be pursued on my own.
But, in 1995, the Mariners were surging in the standings, and drawing attention all across the nation. FINALLY, Seattle had winning baseball, and the sports bandwagoners ate it up.
I was also generally aware of Ken Griffey Jr., but I don’t know if I could say he was a hero of mine or anything. My first sports idol was Steve Largent. My second and third were, in some order, Shawn Kemp and Gary Payton. By the time I started getting into the Mariners, Griffey was more national icon than simply a local superstar. And, when I was that age, contrarian that I was in my know-it-all teens, I didn’t want to be some mope who went along with the crowd (even though that’s exactly who I was, jumping on the bandwagon when I did). I was more of a Randy Johnson man, or a Jay Buhner man.
But, that’s not to say I disliked Griffey. Indeed, I revered him as much as anyone in sports. He was truly one of the best baseball players alive, and to have him on the Mariners was some sort of good fortune I just took for granted at the time. With all the stars on the Sonics, and an all-time legend in Largent on the Seahawks, I just figured every team in every sport had at least one superstar and they always would.
Looking back on it now, I sort of wish I’d been a fan from the very beginning of his career. It’s hard to appreciate the whole arc of his story, when I started somewhere in the middle. By the time I was paying attention to Griffey, he was the best player on the planet. So, all I’ve known of him has been the mythology, and the slow fall from grace.
I had about 4.25 good years as a fan of Ken Griffey Jr. before he forced his way out. Obviously, there was the 1995 miracle finish that came JUST short of a World Series appearance. At that point, we figured the sky was the limit for the Seattle Mariners, and there would be many MANY consecutive years of playoff appearances. In 1996, we were cut down by Randy Johnson’s injury, and a pisspoor bullpen. In 1997, we made it back to the playoffs, but we sold our soul to do it (the Lowe/Varitek trade & the Cruz trade). And even then, we lost in the first round. 1998 & 1999 were essentially lost seasons, and the beginning of the end of those Mariners teams (it really started with the Tino Martinez trade, but continued with the Randy Johnson trade, and climaxed with the Griffey trade).
So much of being a Mariners fan is being jerked around by ownership and then hoping for the best. It’s been that way since the very beginning. In my formative years as a Mariners fan, it was endless penny-pinching by ownership. We made all those trades in the mid-to-late 90s, one by one stripping this team of all its quality players and superstars, and yet there really wasn’t a noticeable penalty. By 2000 and 2001, the Mariners were magically one of the best teams in baseball, and you can look at the guys we got in return from some of those trades (Freddy Garcia, Carlos Guillen, Mike Cameron) as real building blocks in our rise to prominence. Those teams didn’t have the flash that the mid-90s teams had, but they were solid, and they got the job done in the regular season.
Yet, you can point to losing Randy Johnson (who would go on to win multiple Cy Young Awards), Tino Martinez & Jeff Nelson (who would go on to win multiple World Series titles with the Yankees), Ken Griffey Jr. (who went on to have moderate, injury-plagued success with the Reds), and later Alex Rodriguez (who took the biggest contract offer he could get, which obviously would never come from this Mariners organization), as the reason why this team never achieved any playoff success whatsoever.
If we focused on building around our stars, instead of shipping them off for adequate role players, maybe we wouldn’t have had some of the regular season successes we had in the early 2000’s, but a team with Randy, Tino, Nelson, Griffey, and A-Rod is sure as shit built for post-season glory. It’s easy to look back on it now and say, “It’s so simple!” But, at the time, with the Mariners rocking and rolling for the most part, it was understandable to think the good times would only continue.
When news hit of Griffey demanding a trade, I honestly don’t remember how I felt. Disappointment, mostly. I don’t think I really understood what was happening or why it was happening. We were fed the line of Griffey wanting to be closer to home, closer to family, but I don’t think I entirely bought it then, and I still don’t think I entirely buy it now. This Mariners organization has always been kind of a mess. The product on the field always should have had better results. But, the people in charge of personnel kept screwing things up at every possible turn, and the owners didn’t have the fortitude or the mental capacity to reward their very best players with contracts commensurate to their value on the open market. On the one hand, you can laud the organization for getting SOMETHING in return for some of these players they shipped off; but on the other hand, God dammit!
My disappointment with the Griffey situation soured a bit when it became public knowledge that he ONLY wanted to be traded to the Reds, which severely limited our ability to negotiate the best possible deal. Then again, knowing this organization’s track record in major trades, it’s highly probable that whoever they would have traded Griffey to would have seen a return on par with the bust of the century. I think I let that rage subside when the Mariners managed to improve (helped in large part by Mike Cameron being a fan favorite), while the Reds never really did much. In the end, I would come to feel sorry for Griffey, as it seemed he could never stay on the field for any prolonged stretch. He had one quality year on par with his Mariners numbers, in his very first season with the Reds. After 2000, you’ll see large gaps in his playing time due to injury. By the time he managed to stay healthy for a full year again, it was 2007, his last All Star season. In 2008, he was traded to the White Sox for their playoff run (losing in the ALDS), only his third appearance in the post-season (the other two, obviously, being with the Mariners).
In 2009, Jackie Z brought Griffey back on as our primary DH. It was a way to see if he could prolong his career, while at the same time a nice gesture for the fans. No one really expected much out of him or the team, but the Mariners managed a winning record against all odds, and Griffey himself had a decent campaign (19 homers in 117 games). It would be the perfect end to a Hall of Fame career … until everyone got cute and tried to capture lightning in a bottle twice. 2010 was a definite black mark for everyone involved. On the last day of May, Griffey had one hitless pinch hit at-bat in the 9th inning of a 5-4 loss to the Twins in Safeco Field. This came after sitting on the bench for a full week, which was probably a sign of things to come. Instead of milking out the last sour drops of his career, Griffey chose to retire on the spot, driving home to Florida and letting the team know via a phone call on the road.
Being a fan of Griffey was never dull, I’ll say that. As a Mariner, he was the face of Major League Baseball for a decade; that was pretty cool. He put up some crazy, insane, cartoon numbers as a hitter; he made some crazy, insane, cartoon plays in the outfield. He was, without question, the greatest baseball player I’ve ever seen, and probably will ever see. He has my utmost respect as an athlete, and I’ll always look back fondly on his Mariners career.
One of the great things you can point to with Griffey is that he did it the right way. Meaning, he didn’t cheat. He didn’t prolong his career and boost his numbers by ingesting illegal or immoral pharmaceuticals. Of course, we don’t know that for sure, but I’m not going to sit here and try to make the argument that he might have. What we know is that his name has never come up in any implications on the topic. He’s never had the aura of suspicion like Bonds, Clemons, and Sosa. He’s also never outright admitted it, like McGwire, A-Rod, Palmeiro and the like. We do know that he saw most of the latter half of his career on the DL, as opposed to someone like Bonds, who not only saw most of the latter half of his career in perfect health, but putting up bonkers numbers he never even approached in the first half of his career. If Bonds had chosen to stay clean, he most likey wouldn’t have broken the home run record, and he most likely wouldn’t have stayed as healthy as he did. But, he would have been a Hall of Famer, and a first-ballot Hall of Famer at that. Instead, he cheated, and he’s likely never getting in.
With Griffey, you can simply give him the ol’ eye test. Knowing what we know – that he was never implicated, that he never admitted to doing anything illicit, that he found himself on the DL more often than not in the second decade of his career – you can watch him age through the years and put a pretty firm assumption down that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Griffey aged like a baseball player of his calibre SHOULD age. He didn’t suddenly put on 40 pounds of muscle and start hitting 50-70 homers a year in his late 30s. He put on however many pounds of fat, and was left to his natural born gifts to push him through to his 23 years in the Major Leagues. That’s what it means by doing it the “right way”. That’s why he’s a first-ballot Hall of Famer, and why he received the highest percentage of votes for a first year nominee in the history of the Hall of Fame (all but 3 voters selecting Griffey). In an era where the cheaters outnumbered the clean, Griffey stayed clean and STILL crushed everything in his path.
I don’t have a particular Griffey-centric moment that stands out above all others, except obviously I do, and it’s of him scoring the go-ahead run from first base against the New York Yankees in the fifth game of the ALDS in 1995. It’s that, and obviously, it’s that iconic picture of him underneath Bob Wolcott and all the other Mariners mobbing him at home plate. I don’t totally think it’s fair, though, because they call that moment “The Double” because that’s really Edgar’s moment more than it is Griffey’s or anyone else’s. If I had to pick a moment that was just Griffey’s, I don’t think I could. Because my memory has gone to shit, and because – again – I wasn’t a fan until that stretch run in 1995. I didn’t see him play with his dad and hit back-to-back homers with Ken Griffey Sr. I didn’t see him blossom into the superstar he would become. Hell, I didn’t even see him break his hand while making that catch against the wall that kept him out of the majority of the 1995 season!
You know what weirdly stands out? It’s not even a particular moment, per se. But, in 1996, the Mariners were playing out a string of meaningless games, with no chance of making the playoffs. There was a series in Cleveland, and one of the games was rained out (another had to be pushed back to a Day/Night Doubleheader). In one of the rainout games, Griffey hit a homer, but since it was rained out and never finished (and since it didn’t go past the 5th inning), the game never counted. The game was never made up, because it wouldn’t have made a difference for either team’s placement in the standings (the Mariners were out of it, and the Indians were so far ahead in their division that it didn’t matter). So, essentially, the Mariners only played 161 games in 1996. And, as a result of that game being rained out, taking away one of his home runs, Ken Griffey Jr. finished the season one homer shy of his first 50-homer season. I remember thinking how much that SUCKED, as reaching that 50-homer plateau was truly meaningful to me back then. Obviously, Griffey would go on to have back-to-back 56-homer seasons the next two years, but how cool would it have been to see him with three straight 50-homer seasons?
Ehh, maybe less cool, knowing what we know about that era and all the insane homer totals that were inflated by a bunch of cheating tools. Nevertheless, Ken Griffey Jr. is our shining beacon of hope in an otherwise dark period for Major League Baseball.