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Getting one more opportunity to say hey to The Kid
I spent Monday evening with an old friend.
My friend is a very dear person to me even though our relationship is extremely one-sided. In fact, I have only talked to him once and I'd be shocked if he remembered me. But I do consider Ken Griffey Jr., a friend nonetheless.
Griffey got his start in the big leagues as a 19-year-old phenom in 1989. The same year that I graduated from high school.
He was a sensation for a region that needed a reason to get excited about baseball. And he certainly delivered.
I got to see him play in person that June. It was the first time I had ever watched a Mariners game in person.
The rookie's smooth swing, his graceful stride in the outfield and his enthusiasm were something to behold. You just knew he was going to be one of the greatest of all time.
The Kid, which was what Mariners announcer Dave Niehaus called him, took over the Northwest like few people have.
I would watch him every chance I got. I loved that he was nearly my age and that he gave his best in every game. (There was some criticism that he didn't run out grounders to first. Anyone who questioned his effort must have missed the many times he would go crashing into the Kingdome's outfield wall, to rob a batter of an extra-base hit.)
He was named the 1992 All-Star Game MVP for hitting a home run. I was on my honeymoon that week.
In 1994, Griffey, who had 40 home runs in early August and a shot at challenging Roger Maris' home run record of 61, was thwarted because of the baseball strike. It was a foreshadowing of things to come for his career.
But there were still plenty of good times ahead. Griffey and his teammates brought baseball roaring back to Seattle, after the strike, with the Mariners' greatest season in 1995.
My friend scored the franchise's most important run when he made it home from first base on Edgar Martinez' double in the 11th inning to win the playoff series against the New York Yankees that year. I'm not ashamed to say that I wept when he slid into home, dusting off two decades of baseball futility in Seattle.
I had a chance to meet Griffey in person a few years later when I was a photographer for The Daily Evergreen at WSU. Mike Price was throwing out the first pitch in the Kingdome and I was selected to shoot the event.
Griffey seemed happy on the surface, but there was also an unrest in his eyes. That unrest would eventually surface in 1999 and he asked to be traded from the city that loved him to Cincinnati, where he grew up.
As a Red, Griffey didn't have the same success he enjoyed with the Mariners. Injuries, bad teams and age caught up with him.
It's odd to say that somebody with 597 home runs is having a disappointing career, but Griffey was thought by many to be a man who would retire with at least 800 home runs. Now at 38, he is on the downslope of his career, and will soon walk away from the game.
I never thought I would have a chance to see Griffey in person again. But a fortuitous trip to St. Louis earlier this week (my wife had to attend a conference and I went along for the ride) gave me what could be my last opportunity. The Reds were in town to play the Cardinals.
As we walked into new Busch Stadium (which is amazing), I picked out Griffey, now wearing No. 3, warming up along the left-field foul line. He's a little heavier then he was playing in Seattle and a bit slower (he's in right field now). But when he came up to bat in the first inning, it was the same old Griffey, with his tall left-handed stance, and his unique bat waggle before the pitch.
"I recognize that guy's stance," said my wife, who isn't much of a baseball fan. "That's Griffey, isn't it?"
And, while I didn't get to see him hit a homer like I hoped, he did get two hits and scored the winning run in the Reds 4-3 victory. Boy, he sure looked like he has a few more good years left in him.
I left the stadium that night happy once again to have renewed our friendship.
I sure did miss him.
