Griffey for president — of M’s in 2012

For many Seattle-area alpha males between the ages of 30 and 50 – you know, the guys who more or less run a lot of the businesses, software shops and governments – one thing that is almost guaranteed to make their knees jelly and their faces silly is the presence of Ken Griffey Jr.

Which is as good a reason as any, after a year of front-office training in 2011, for making Griffey the club’s next president in 2012.

Go ahead and finish the rolling of your eyes. I’ll wait.

Now let’s think about it.

If you or your company had the wealth to consider buying a luxury suite, a sponsorship, four season tickets, why would you do it at the moment?

The Mariners have been bad, will be bad in 2011 and probably 2012. They have two certifiable stars, neither of whom are comfortable speaking English in public, and a bunch of players most fans couldn’t tell from the gents who hand-dry their cars at Elephant Car Wash.

The new manager, Eric The Edge, is a volatile sort who may be wonderful but who, after the first five-game losing streak, may get a) fired because the club tradition is that someone who isn’t responsible for it must be blamed, or b) spontaneously combust.

General manager Jack Zduriencik is an engaging fellow but is about one more Eric Byrnes hire from getting trap-doored. And the current president, Chuck Armstrong, along with CEO Howard Lincoln, have zero political capital with the public, yet remain more bulletproof than Superman.

To top it off, Dave Niehaus, the most universally beloved figure in the realm, died.

For the fans, 2010 was a soul-destroyer, and the off-season offered little healing.

The Mariners have, in two words, zero charisma.

But when Griffey walks into a room of the above-described, charisma is knee-deep. Same with the clubhouse. Same with a classroom, or a board of directors meeting.

If you don’t get that, well, that’s OK. I don’t get Justin Bieber, Keith Richards or Sarah Palin. It’s a big country.

But in Seattle, Griffey to many baseball fans is the athlete who made their childhoods, adolescence or young adulthood, then returned a decade later to thrill many of the same dudes who are now dads.

This is an emotional connection that should not be underestimated. Even club management understands the point.

That’s why he’s returning as “special consultant,” a term as meaningless as “bases loaded, nobody out for the Mariners” was last year. But it buys them a year to figure it out.

To many of the ardent fans, it matters only a little that the ineffective Griffey walked out on his team and fans last year. They have put in the past the moment he forced his trade to Cincinnati. They don’t care how the moods and self-absorption of his youth and prime made him high-maintenance.

They just know that the coolest, best player in baseball in the 1990s was their guy, in their town.

Bonus: He didn’t juice.

He was a happening. An idol. An unresolved chord, hanging in the air for a decade, keeping us waiting for the dramatic ta-dah.

OK, we know all of that.

Can he be president of the franchise? Depends.

First, he couldn’t do much worse. Second, the job can be structured to become almost anything.

The portion of the job that requires business experience regarding front-office personnel, sales contracts, broadcast negotiations and shareholder relations can be given to an executive vice-president. The part that includes meetings and relationships with the office Major League Baseball and its individual franchises can be shared with another executive.

The part that includes being the face of the franchise, Griffey can do. Having been around him for most of his time in Seattle, the guy is savvy about things within baseball and beyond. He understands people in ways that are frequently disarming. And as long as the he agrees to a job description where he doesn’t doesn’t go over his head, the thing is plausible.

The two biggest unknowns are whether he can make it work part-time, and whether he and Lincoln can work out a professional business relationship.

My guess on an answer to the first question is that Griffey would have to commit fulltime, with the freedom to fly by private jet to his kids’ sports events at home in Florida.  The answer to the second question is anyone’s guess.

As the representative of a majority owner who has never seen his team play, Lincoln has one of the weirdest executive jobs in pro sports. He occasionally must do the bidding of a guy who doesn’t get how MLB works.

That’s not necessarily unusual, because I have been numerous times among those who don’t get how MLB works. But that’s a different kind of bewilderment.

As a loyalist to Yamauchi and the company he founded, Nintendo, Lincoln would never publicly acknowledge the difficulty. But many baseball and business people who have passed through the Mariners convey private astonishment with how the club makes some decisions.

But Lincoln has control, final say and that’s that. The results over most of the past decade of increasing parity in MLB speak for themselves. Anyone working in the atmosphere is going to be frustrated.

Maybe the issues are too difficult to surmount. Maybe Griffey doesn’t want the responsibility. Maybe the idea is so bold that it will merely bounce off the M’s management bunker. But Armstrong did say that bringing back Griffey in some non-playing capacity has been considered for two years. Emotionally, if he had to replace himself, who better than nearly adoptive son?

Nobody has to make a decision today, or for the rest of 2011 season. It’s training-wheels time, and it’s almost spring, when all things are possible..

Anyone remember in 1996 when Nike ran its mock presidential campaign for Griffey? It was a little early. And that presidency would have been an easier job than selling seats at Safeco.