It All Comes Flooding Back
Listed in: BaseballWhat is it about memory and baseball? Far better writers than I have remarked that no sport dwells in the past like baseball does. Heroes and legends from baseball's early years have a relevance that George Mikan or Sammy Baugh could only dream of. Many people who weren't even born when Hank Aaron broke Babe Ruth's career home run record are up in arms that Barry Bonds is almost certain to hit #756 at some point this season. Perhaps it's the languid pace of the game that invites reminiscing, or the fact that without a few good stories to tell a night at the ballpark can get boring quick if the home team is struggling.
In any case, with Ken Griffey, Jr set to make his first appearance in Seattle since leaving the team after the 1999 season, I found myself awash in Griffey memories all morning. My relationship with The Kid has been a subject I've covered before, but he still remains the central figure in my growth and maturation as a sports fan.
I remember moving to Seattle after the 1989 season. The Mariners (which basically meant Griffey at the time) were one of my first links to my new home: I'd missed the excitement of Junior's rookie season, but it was clear how popular he was, at least amongst kindergarten-aged boys. In fact, looking back on it, until the trade, I didn't know Seattle without Griffey in it.
The next year, I remember the talk that signing Ken Griffey, Sr was just a publicity stunt. It might have been, but it worked out far better than anyone in the M's front office could have imagined. Not only were there the fantastic milestones, when they became the first father-son duo to play on the field at the same time, to get back-to-back hits, and back-to-back home runs, but Senior actually played some of the best ball of his career (granted, in limited ABs), posting a .377/.443/.519 line (good for a 168 OPS+). In August, he made the catch that first cemented him in the baseball consciousness: robbing Jesse Barfield of a homer in Yankee Stadium, then running back in to the dugout with a massive grin on his 20-year-old face.
The next few years saw Junior grow into his role as one of the game's best players. There was the 1992 All-Star game, when he singled, doubled, and homered en route to winning the MVP. I remember sitting in rapt attention on July 28, 1993. The Mariners were in the midst of another boring loss to the Twins. It would have been a forgettable game, if it were not for the fact that Griffey had homered in the previous seven. When he stepped up in the bottom of the seventh, in what could have been his final chance to tie the MLB record, just about everyone I knew had the TV or radio on. The Kid didn't disappoint, parking a Willie Banks fastball into the upper deck in right field. The next day, if I recall correctly, he hit a double off the top of the wall, coming a foot or two short from having the record to himself.
I remember 1994, when he seemed poised to make a run at Roger Maris, before the strike intervened. Of course, that merely heightened expectations for 1995. I was there on May 26, when Griffey hit a massive home run off the foul pole, a shot which was rapidly eclipsed by the catch he made, robbing Kevin Bass of an extra-base hit. Oh, and he did it while breaking his wrist.
He'd come back in August, and I was there when he instigated one of the greatest late-season comebacks in baseball history by ripping a two-run homer to right of Yankee closer John Wetteland to bring the team back from the dead. Of course, the indelible image of Griffey is the one that's still posted on my wall, 12 years after the fact: him grinning, buried under a pile of jubilant teammates just moments after.
There were other highlights, of course: the 1997 MVP award and playoff team, many more great catches, and always the beautiful, beautiful swing. There were lowlights too: the lost seasons in 96, 98, and 99, the not-so-infrequent complaints about playing in Seattle, about being far from his family, and at the end about Safeco Field's rather spacious outfield. Still, unlike some fans, I bore him no ill will. Sure, I missed him, but I never delighted in his struggles in Cincinnati. Whenever he played well, I cheered, and whenever he made a trip to the DL I sighed and shook my head. I won't be there tonight, when he gets the standing ovation he deserves, but I will be there on Sunday, even if I'm the only guy standing and cheering. I miss you, Kid.
Comments
It seems like most Seattle fans share your sentiments. It's a bit ironic, because he truly screwed the franchise: send me to Cincinnati NOW. How's that for a trading position? A-Rod, on the other hand, walks away at the end of a contract to do what 99.9% of all other baseball players would: follow the money. And Seattle boos him.
Sometimes I wonder if there's any justice in this world.
Posted by: kevin | June 25, 2007 9:24 PM
Here's the thing about Griffey: sure, he left the Mariners in an awkward trading position. But at least they got something tangible in return for him. And while I won't begrudge A-Rod for taking the money (which is probably what I would have done too), the fact is that Griffey's departure was about everything BUT money. Fair to the team or not, he followed his heart, not his wallet, to Cincinnati.
Posted by: Zach Geballe | June 26, 2007 2:54 AM