A ‘bittersweet’ night

SEATTLE — It’s nights like these when we’ll miss Dave Niehaus most.

For much of his 34-year career as the Mariners’ play-by-play man, Niehaus made himself into a Hall-of-Famer by turning stinkers like Friday’s 12-3 loss to Cleveland into three hours of poetry.

As great as Niehaus was

in the Mariners’ best seasons — the thrilling 1995 run, the 116-win season in 2001 — what really made him special was the way he kept a region tuning in to the radio even as the franchise failed to finish with a winning record in its first 14 seasons.

“For 14 years the Mariners didn’t do a

whole lot of winning,” said Rick Rizzs, who joined Niehaus in the broadcast booth in 1983. “And when the ballclub was bad, Dave Niehaus was at his best, because he gave fans a reason to tune in and stay interested in this ballclub.”

And, boy, was the ballclub bad Friday night. Fortunately for the sellout crowd of 45,727, it was worth being at Safeco Field anyway, if only for what happened before Jason Vargas and Tom Wilhemsen started throwing batting practice to Cleveland hitters in the fourth inning.

In one of the most emotional home openers in the team’s history, the Mariners honored Niehaus, who passed away Nov. 10 at the age of 75. Three hours before the first pitch, hundreds of fans crowded the sidewalk as the corner of First Avenue South and Royal Brougham Way officially became the intersection of Dave Niehaus Way South and Royal Brougham. Mixed in with the crowd were team president Chuck Armstrong, who fought back tears, CEO Howard Lincoln, general manager Jack Zduriencik, Rizzs and a large contingent of Niehaus’ family, including wife Marilyn, who would later throw out the ceremonial first pitch to a standing ovation.

“Oh my gosh, it’s such an emotional day, and this is just wonderful,” Marilyn Niehaus said. “It’s overwhelming, it really is. The fans are really filling this big hole in my heart, just by being here.”

Which is the least fans could do after Niehaus gave them so much for so many years. Even as his health began to decline, and his children asked him to cut back his workload — stick to home games, they suggested — Niehaus loved being around the game too much to become a part-timer. In his 34 years at the mic, Niehaus called 5,284 of Seattle’s 5,385 games, only giving in to his family’s wishes to take it easy by extending his All-Star break for annual trips to Lake Chelan.

And in these months since Niehaus passed away, Niehaus’ family has come to realize just how much he meant to an entire region of baseball fans.

“The amount of love from all the people around is just so, so overwhelming,” said his daughter Greta Niehaus Dunn. “Our family is just floored that he had such a great impact. He was just dad, so we didn’t grow up knowing that he had this kind of impact on people. I had no idea.”

As special as Friday was for the Niehaus family, it also was bittersweet. Like any fan of the game, Niehaus lived for the start of baseball season, which meant the family lived for the start of the season.

“It’s really hard today,” Greta said. “I’ve come to every opener, and in our house, you could tell it was this time of year because he would start brewing up the excitement. … He was the top of our family, so it just trickled down to all of us. Our whole family would start getting excited this time of year. It’s just so weird not to have him here, because it’s bittersweet. I want to be excited about baseball and spring, but then he’s not here to share it with us, so it’s not easy.”

Said his son Andy: “It’s been a double-edged sword in a sense. We were able to appreciate what our father meant to so many people and enjoy his legacy and the love people had for him, but at the same time we’re constantly reminded of it. … I’ve got to be honest, it’s hard to move on.”

Moving on will be difficult for Niehaus’ extended family too. Every baseball fan who lived in the area has a fond memory of Niehaus’ voice, whether you’re a lifelong Washingtonian who was raised by the voices of your mom, dad and Niehaus — and not necessarily in that order — or if you were just passing through and heard the gravelly-voiced storyteller somehow make an 8-2 loss in a meaningless August game compelling.

And it wasn’t all tears and emotion on the day the city of Seattle proclaimed “My Oh My, Dave Niehaus Day.” There was plenty of laughter too as Niehaus’ family and friends told their favorite stories.

Former Mariners catcher Dave Valle, who later worked with Niehaus on the broadcast team, recalled a flight to Arlington, Texas, in the early 1990s when Niehaus strolled to the back of the plane where Valle, Edgar Martinez and Ken Griffey, Jr. were sitting.

“He says, ‘Hey guys, you know Nolan Ryan is pitching tonight?’ And Junior is like, ‘Of course we know that,'” Valle said. “Then he looks right at me and goes, ‘Do you know he’s never struck you out, Val?'”

Of course Valle struck out on his first at-bat the next day — on three pitches no less. Walking back to the dugout, Valle couldn’t help himself and looked up to the broadcast booth. Niehaus was doubled over with laughter.

“I literally screamed up, ‘Are you happy Dave?'” Valle said.

Of course he was happy. He was at a ballgame.