Thank You Baseball Gods

Two posts in a day, I know, I know. I really do have better things to do, but this story demanded commentary. And I did do better things, I'll have you know. Just ask me about federalism and slavery.

I read tonight that Ken Griffey Jr. has decided to sign a one year deal with the Seattle Mariners. Of course, if you were a boy growing up in the 1990's and followed baseball, you will always regard Griffey as a Mariner. It just was the way it was. Those years with the Reds were like an abyss. No one really cared.

Now, no one can question my devotion to the Minnesota Twins. I dare anyone to try. It is 100%, tested by the fiery hell of the mid to late 1990's (Scott Stahoviak?), vindicated in that glorious 1991 season (I was in kindergarten) and the rejuvenation of the new millennium. But aside from games at the Metrodome (subject of a future sentimental post), the stadium I have made the most visits to are Seattle's Safeco Field. And if I recall correctly, I once saw Griffey play there in 1999. My great aunt lived in Seattle, and whenever we would go to visit her, I would make sure to catch a few games. And I'll admit it, I liked it. I liked watching baseball outside, in a beautiful stadium (one more year, one more year). And I always thought the Mariners had a cool logo.

What is so glorious about this decision by Griffey is the concept of loyalty. I don't know how many baseball fans are out there, but the sport has been ransacked by disgusting displays of pure financial gain and irresponsibility. I would point to John Smoltz as the most recent victim. Here's a man who has pitched for the Braves his entire life, more than 20 years. And now, in the twilight of his career, he goes and signs with the Red Sox. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Loyalty. Loyalty is key.

Kirby Puckett. Need I say more? Of course not.

This decision by Ken Griffey Jr. is a demonstration of loyalty, that most precious of intangibles. A decision, on his part, to forego the ease and convenience of playing in Atlanta to return to his spiritual baseball home. If I were a true Mariners fan, I would be crying with joy right now.

Sports are an irrational phenomenon. No one on the Minnesota Twins knows who I am. Absolutely no idea. They play baseball because it is their job. It's like waiting tables at Denny's, or selling life insurance. Major League Baseball is a business, and I posit that most players today don't have loyalty to their specific team, because of that same reason. What is best for me? That most American concept of individual self-determination. The irony, of course, is that baseball is not a game of individual self-determination. Sure, the individual players play important roles, but the prime importance is on the team, not the individual. Without quality defence, or players to get on base, or pitchers to get people out, the single MVP player is worthless.

Of course, the reality is that for the great mass of people who follow baseball, it is anything but a business. It's not a way of life, but for many people, their specific team is an intensely important part of their life. It's a personal thing, through and through. I think of my own family, my grandpa used to take my dad to Twins games at the Old Met. He got him into the 1965 World Series. And ever since I can remember, my dad has been taking me to Twins games. Every summer, we drive to Matt's, have a greasy burger, go park, walk to the Dome, buy a program, sit in the upper club, order a Coke in a souvenir cup (recently that has changed to Summit), get a Dome Dog, and watch the game. It's the quintessential American relationship. Father and son, baseball, yada, yada, yada. Whatever else you want to throw in, but it's also a relationship between the game and the individual.

I think that's why true fans of the game shower such love upon players who reciprocate that relationship. Those players recognize that important relationship. They get it. I daresay they understand an essential part of the game that is often times, in this day and age, limited only to those linked via goodwill and affection.

So cheers to you Mr. Griffey, on behalf of true baseball fans everywhere. You did a good thing.