BY Art Thiel 09:43PM 08/05/2016

Thiel: Seattle does August — sun, Seafair, Griffey

Cooperstown was as serious as the Vatican. It’s time for a celebration of the best baseball player in Seattle history. Let’s do the thing right and party down.

Ken Griffey Jr. and announcer Rick Rizzs have some fun at a charity luncheon Friday at Safeco Field. / Alan Chitlik, Sportspress Northwest

Walking into the Mariners clubhouse at Safeco Field Friday afternoon, I spotted Ken Griffey Jr. near the entrance, posing for photos with staffers and players along with his Hall of Fame plaque. He was wearing a pale blue sports jacket with window-pane checks, disturbingly similar to the odd suit he wore for a recent Sports Illustrated cover shoot.

I saw my opening.

“Been meaning to ask you about that suit on the SI cover,” I said. “Did you lose a bet?”

His eyes widened. With Griffey, you have to go hard and fast to stand a chance.

“You might remember I was on the cover of GQ,” he said, peering at me. “I think you were on National Geographic.”

The bat is retired. Not the wit. If that was my at-bat, I struck out on one pitch.

The Kid was back in town. Big party Saturday. Might be more fun than the one in Cooperstown, NY.

His Hall of Fame induction was a fine thing. A milestone for him and the franchise that he carried for most of 11 years. But baseball and its hall take themselves as seriously as the Vatican. Lots of reverence, awe, quiet voices. I think I might have heard a hymn or two, or maybe somebody read a psalm.

Here’s hoping Saturday, when Griffey’s No. 24 jersey is retired, Seattle can sneak in some glee in the celebration of its greatest player. This ain’t church.

Griffey certainly belongs to the baseball nation. But first and foremost, he belongs to Seattle. So this is personal for many of us, and it should be a hoot.

A few minutes after he slayed me, he took to the interview room for another series of questions about what it’s like to be him. Asked about the emotional difference between Saturday’s event and Cooperstown, he turned reflective.

“It’s about the same,” he said. “I shared my story with 50,000 people. I get to do it again tomorrow. It’s just that these 50,000 have seen me play up close for years, on a regular basis.

“I don’t take what I do lightly. Tomorrow is definitely one of the things that is special, and I get to enjoy it with the people who’ve seen me, from a teenager to a 40-year-old.”

It’s that timeline, from his 1989 MLB debut as a 19-year-old to his 2016 ascension to Valhalla at 45, that has us in his grip. In a pro sports landscape where the average career span is less than four years, Griffey has been in the civic culture long enough for grandparents to tell Griffey stories to grandkids.

One questioner said he was a sophomore in high school when he watched Griffey hit his first home run. What went through Junior’s mind at that moment? Griffey grinned.

“Don’t fall,” he said. “I showed a video (of the homer) to my kids and they laughed at me: ‘Look at that trot.’ It was terrible. I hit a few more (homers), so I could perfect it.

“They were all over me. You gotta have some pretty thick skin at my house. There’s no shame — my hair, how high-pitched my voice was, my rap song.”

Griffey was at the heart of more than his share of controversies during his tenures in Seattle, particularly surrounding departures. But there is no debate about three things — his greatness as a player, his playful wit, and his competitiveness, even though the game came so easily to him he seemed sometimes on glide.

“Everyone sees the smile and thinks, ‘He doesn’t care,'” he said. ” They don’t understand that deep inside, I want to bury somebody. I don’t want to show emotions (that say), ‘You got me.’

“I want to win every game, every at-bat, catch every ball. Throw out every runner.”

Unfortunately for him, he played for an organization that supported him poorly. The Mariners made two playoff appearances during his time — one of which, amazingly, was enough to save baseball in Seattle in 1995. So enthralled was Seattle with Griffey that he was the central figure in the rationale that pulled $380 million in public funds to build Safeco Field.

As a symbolic demonstration of their gratefulness, the Mariners ceremony Saturday includes a retirement of No. 24 for not just the major league team, but the entire organization — believed to be an MLB first. As a final touch, all current players will wear 24 during batting practice.

The sacred numeral shall never be shared again in the land of moss and geek.

(Heads-up: If you are attending the sold-out event, be aware that the ceremony begins at 5:30 p.m., gates open at 3:40 and it’s Seafair weekend.)

Griffey said he picked 24 because he hit 24 homers his senior year. He asked for it as part of his rookie contract. It keeps popping up in his life — his first apartment in Seattle was 1124, the address of his first home was 24606 and this summer is the 24th anniversary of his marriage to Melissa.

And it’s also the reverse of 42, Jackie Robinson’s number, retired by all of MLB.

The numbers will be side by side at Safeco Saturday.

“For a team to do that is the ultimate sign of respect for what you did on the field,” he said. “It’s overwhelming and humbling, because of the guy I’m going up next to, who basically sacrificed his life for guys like me.

“For what he’s done — to allow pretty much everyone to play this game.”

After the first inning Friday night, Griffey was introduced on the red carpet next to the visitor’s dugout, and 40,354 snapped to their feet, as if on the same string.

The weekend party has begun. Let Cooperstown have the august feel;  Seattle will do August with sun, Seafair and Griffey. It’s worthy of a National Geographic cover.



  • 1coolguy

    Interesting about number 24. The person that made the number 24 great was center fielder Willie Mays. Growing up everyone wanted Willie’s number. So that’s the reason I thought Griffey chose the number 24.

    • Deborahrdamron1

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    • Kevin Lynch

      Cheers. Greatest player I ever saw. Number 24. Mays.

      • art thiel

        I think Mays/Griffey makes for a fine baseball debate.

        • 1coolguy

          Having the incredible luxury of watching Mays then Griffey, I simply regard Griffey @ 6’2″ a larger version of Mays. Both were the top 5 tool players of their day and could do the same things very well, but with Griffey’s increased size, he was able to take the physical part of mays game a notch higher. If I didn’t see it myself I could have never believed it.

    • art thiel

      He mentioned that a lot of great players wore 24, but not by name.

  • jafabian

    I think Junior’s going to be fun to watch from here on in. He came up thru the majors largely under Lou Pinella who was a wonderful storyteller to me. Junior seems to be along those lines of always having a story ready to tell and he greatly appreciates Mariners history. It isn’t as storied as the Yankees but it’s ours and he embraces it as does the Mariners faithful who eat up all the classic jerseys and memorabilia. Just don’t put him in the same booth as Buhner. We’ll never pay attention to the game then!

    • art thiel

      Griffey has lots going on, but I’m not sure he’s e ever going to pursue a baseball job that has any daily work obligation. Doesn’t need it.

      • jafabian

        For sure. If anything he’ll always hold the title of “special consultant” for the club, maybe be an unofficial roving instructor in the minors on an as needed (translation: when he wants to) basis. He’d probably do best working with young players transitioning to pro ball, especially those right out of high school.

  • Joe_Fan

    I would like to see the Mariners “do” October!