No joy here in Mudville

On June 2, 2010, it was announced that Ken Griffey, Jr. had officially retired from baseball.

That's it. Done. De nada. Outta here. Bye, bye.

No pomp, circumstance and no advance warning.

Say it isn't so . . .

Now those of us who are truly Junior fans (and have been since day one and all through his aches, pains, ailments and DL status) knew intuitively that this year, would be his last season.  In fact, at the top of this year, I began discussing and planning how to accommodate a trip to Seattle so I could see him play as a Mariner as I have oft seen him play as a Cincinatti Red.  I could easily travel to Oakland to see the Mariner's play the A's but I didn't want to do that. No, that wouldn't be the same to see him play on the road, I wanted to see him play at Safeco,  in the house that Junior built.

Imagine my huge dismay in learning that I was deprived of that opportunity.  I was more distraught than I would have imagined. I felt stunned, angry and embarrassed that I was holding back tears. After all, Junior was alive and well and leaving respectfully and humbly  befitting his character but I was mourning nonetheless.

As a kid, I enjoyed baseball. I lived in Los Angeles and was a devout Dodger fan. Even as a young girl, I could appreciate the stellar skills of Sandy Koufax.  Being from Chicago, I had it wired in my genes to have a special place in my heart for the Cubbies.  Yet, it wasn't till I was older and caught a televised Dodger game one afternoon when they were playing the Cincinatti Reds and my baseball life changed.

There was this amazing hitter for the Reds who had the most captivating smile and a unique batting style. It took me awhile to learn that his name was Ken Griffey.  Something about this man captured my attention and I found that I was following his career and his team. This was the 1970's and the era of The Big Red Machine.  I had the good fortune to fall in love with Griffey, Senior and baseball during the heyday of one of the all-time best team cycles ever.  Pete Rose, Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Dave Concepcion, Ken Griffey, Sr. and Sparky Anderson as manager.  It didn't get any better than these guys and my interest for baseball soon became a passion.

I was so captivated and so passionate about this team that I even risked my safety and well-being going to Chavez Ravine with my Dodger blue friends wearing my Reds regalia in defiant loyalty.  My dear actor friend, Rick Holden was from Cincinatti so his Reds fervor came naturally and he and I would sit together at games and cheer and try to not be smug when the Dodgers got creamed.  For the record, if the Dodgers played any other team, I rooted for my home team. Either way, I always had the distinct pleasure of listening to the dulcet tones of Vin Scully.

One game, Rick even managed to get Ken Griffey to autograph something for me but I was too shy to go down and meet him.  I still have that piece of pine-tar rag, although the senior Griffey's signature is fading. 

Griffey, Sr. in his career began to step aside for his young, up and coming son, Ken Griffey, Jr. The batting skill and magnetic smile didn't fall far from the fraternal tree and it was an easy transfer for me to become a Jr. fan.  I even have a baseball from the season where father and son both played for the Mariners. It was not signed but I had to have it anyway.  And when Jr. returned to playing for the Reds, I felt that was a coming home of sorts.  Okay, I will admit that I was hard-pressed to like it when he was traded to the White Sox.  Thinking of anyone I care about having to deal with Ozzie Guillen, is hard to swallow. I didn't watch many games that season.

Junior had an amazing career right at the outset as a 19 year-old rookie with the Mariners. He dazzled fans and non-fans alike.  It is widely felt that if he hadn't had as many injuries and time away from the game he would have beat out Barry Bonds home run record--and done so without an asterisk to his name. I cheered and did a special happy dance when he hit 500.

Commentaries from pominent sportscasters (and respected former ball players) such as Joe Morgan and Orel Hersheiser concur with my feelings about how much Jr. loves baseball and baseball loved him.   Joe Morgan watched Jr. grow up in the clubhouses and saw his passion and talents merge naturally.  And I was pleased to read and hear how many other people saw the joy in Junior's playing and in his smile.

This essay written about my favorite baseball player is not attempt to recreate the stats or resume history than can be found on many a sports website.  This is a personal tribute to a man who in my humble opinion was not only one helluva ball-player but an accomplished sportsman who exemplified the grace, dignity and myth-making magic that baseball is all about.  Junior continued to defy baseball records and still maintain the balance of his personal life and celebrity without the usual ensuing drama or hype.  He is a good guy.  A family man. He inspired his own team and his fans.  What's not to like?  

Comments on Facebook, e-mails and texts have poured into me from friends who knew that this news would be hard for me.  That says as much about the good friends that I have as it does as a testimonial to the respect and appreciation of Junior's legacy and influence.

Because of the Griffeys, I not only learned a whole lotta about baseball, I was always reminded about the privilege of doing something you love just for the sheer joy of doing it.

Thanks, Junior.

"Take him out of the ball game. Take him out of the crowd."


Ken Griffey Jr Rookie Card Graphics & Ken Griffey Jr Pictures