In the past 10 years, the Seattle Mariners gave us moments we can’t wait to experience again, some we hope never ever repeat and others so emotional we can’t possibly forget.

There were 116 victories in 2001 and even Richie Sexson’s 39 home runs in 2005. But there also were 101 losses in 2008 and, oh yeah, Sexson’s 421 strikeouts in 2005, ‘06 and ‘07.

The unforgettable Mariners of the 1990s rolled into the next decade and continued to succeed. They also proved that a team can overcome the loss of superstars like Ken Griffey Jr. and Alex Rodriguez as long as it pitches, plays defense and sticks together as a team.

And we learned in 2008 that no team can live up to preseason predictions if it doesn’t stick together as a team, regardless of its ability (or inability) to pitch and play defense.

From 2000-2009, we saw Boonie’s bat flips and Cammy’s wall leaps; Ichiro’s infield singles and Edgar’s doubles to the opposite field; McLemore’s versatility and the never-changing nature of Olerud’s smooth swing; and, helping us forget those bullpen meltdowns of the early 1990s, we witnessed the value of strong relief pitching, be it Nelson-Rhodes-Sasaki in 2001 or White-Lowe-Aardsma in 2009.

We became re-acquainted in 2009 with the principle of on-base percentage, solid starting pitching and lockdown relief. Get that, and you set yourself up for last-at-bat heroics by anyone from Langerhans to Ichiro.

We walked into the Mariners’ spring training clubhouse last February and it looked a lot like 1999, with a big equipment trunk next to the locker labeled “24 Griffey.” And we left Safeco Field after the final game Oct. 4 having witnessed perhaps the first celebratory parade lap by a third-place team in baseball history. The Mariners couldn’t let it all end without honoring a fan base that waited most of the decade to embrace a team this fun to watch.

The new year, especially this one, is a convenient time to recall the best and worst of the past 10 seasons. If there was a moment I’ll never forget, it happened (naturally) in 2001.

I wish I could say my greatest memories of that team were the way Ichiro Suzuki pressured opposing defenders into mistakes, how hitters like Edgar Martinez, Bret Boone, Mike Cameron and John Olerud supplied production in the middle of the lineup, the way manager Lou Piniella masterfully rotated versatile Mark McLemore into the lineup to give his starters regular rest, and how the Mariners’ superb defense helped good starting pitching and a great bullpen win a record-tying 116 regular-season games.

What stands above it all, however, is a period from Sept. 11-19, when the world gasped at the terrorist attacks on the East Coast and how the Mariners did their part in the emotional healing.

Eight days after the attacks, the Mariners became the first team that season to clinch a division championship. They knew much of the sports world would be watching — and judging — their victory celebration.

To their credit the Mariners never considered a champagne-spraying scene typical of such an accomplishment. Instead, they used the occasion to honor those who’d fallen in the attacks and a country that continued to shudder.

After the final out in a 5-0 victory over the Anaheim Angels that clinched the AL West title, McLemore grabbed an American flag and walked to the top of the pitcher’s mound, surrounded by his teammates. Then each of the Mariners dropped to a knee for a moment of prayer. The silence from the sold-out crowd was broken only by the sound of a few fans who were sobbing.

A few weeks later, in New York where the Mariners played the Yankees in the American League Championship Series, former Herald columnist Larry Henry and I took a cab to Ground Zero, where the World Trade Center once stood. The cabbie dropped us off several blocks away, but we could see — and smell — smoke still drifting over the southern tip of Manhattan.

As we walked toward the disaster site, a few Mariners players passed us walking the opposite direction. The only player I remember in that group was pitcher Brett Tomko, who had tears in his eyes.

He had witnessed what Larry and I were about to see, the rescue workers who’d stand in silence at the discovery of another body and the thousands of memorials posted on the walls of businesses and churches near the site.

The next day, Piniella and most of the team visited Firehouse 24, Ladder Co. 1, which lost several firefighters in the World Trade Center collapse. The Mariners met those who survived and the families of those who didn’t, and it affected the team. They lost Game 4 that night and the Yankees eliminated them in Game 5, with many of the Mariners saying they simply couldn’t recover emotionally from what they experienced at the disaster site.

The Mariners didn’t reach the World Series as many had predicted, but to me that didn’t mean they had failed.

That was an amazing team that should serve as a model for the type of baseball that works at Safeco Field. They pitched, played defense, utilized speed, moved baserunners and hit with enough power to dominate their division.

But the 2001 Mariners also showed a sense of compassion that put what they accomplished — and what they didn’t — into perspective.

Read Kirby Arnold’s blog on the Mariners at www.heraldnet.com\marinersblog