I’d always wondered how Seattle fans would react if Ken Griffey Jr. came back, even if it’s a weekend series with another team.
Would they cheer him long and loud, as they did Randy Johnson the day he walked from the bullpen to the dugout in 1999 when the Arizona Diamondbacks played an interleague game at Safeco Field?
Would they boo him like they still do Alex Rodriguez, who still seems puzzled by the reaction? (Hey Alex, it’s like this: You say, “It’s about winning, not money,” and your ex-fans ask “Then why did you sign for $252 million with a crappy team like the Rangers?” You don’t want to know how your former teammates feel.)
Or would the reaction to Griffey be something in between? He played his best years for the Mariners, but said all along that family was foremost, and he proved it by playing in the town he grew up, Cincinnati.
Because Griffey stayed true to his word and went home, even though he broke a lot of hearts when he left, I can only assume the fans here would treat him warmly – if not completely embrace him.
Last week, at Safeco Field, we got a clue.
The Mariners were taking batting practice before their game Monday night, and no more than a couple thousand fans were in the ballpark. The telecast of the Cincinnati-Houston game was showing on the big video screen, and Griffey hit a home run.
Many of the fans at Safeco cheered as Griffey rounded the bases, and some even stood as they applauded.
It made me wonder how Seattle fans would welcome back other former players.
Beyond Safeco Field, Edgar Martinez has raised the roof at Sonics and Seahawks games. Jay Buhner still gets standing Os, and Tino Martinez gets a lot more than a golf clap, even playing for the Yankees.
I shudder at the reaction to some least-favorite Mariners (Bobby Ayala, you know who you are).
Crowd reaction isn’t always predictable.
The expression of love for Randy Johnson, on his first trip back, surprised me. If anyone had set themselves up for a major butt-chewing in Seattle, it was him.
Johnson gave up on Seattle long before the Mariners traded him in 1998. He’d grown upset with Mariners management and strolled through the first half of the season (9-10, 4.33 ERA), then magically stepped it up after the July 31 trade to the Astros (10-1, 1.28).
When he came back with the Diamondbacks, not many M’s executives saluted Johnson the way the fans did. The fans forgave, apparently, because of what Johnson did for them in ‘95, not what he took away in ‘98.
The ‘95 team saved baseball in this city, and it seems clear that anyone associated with it will be loved regardless. Well, everyone except A-Rod, who played a bit part on that team.
Here’s an suggestion the next time Rodriguez comes to Seattle for three games in August.
If you can’t let it go and still feel the urge to boo, don’t. It’s classless and everybody does it.
When A-Rod steps to the plate, if you still can’t accept how he left Seattle, greet him with silence, church-like silence. That will bug him more than the booing he is accustomed to hearing.
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