The Kid should call it quits

Ken Griffey, Jr. should call it a career. It's as simple as that. With 469 home runs, 1,359 RBIs and a .295 batting average -- if Junior were to hold a press conference announcing his retirement today, it would conclude what is undoubtedly a Hall of Fame career.

Plain and simple -- Griffey doesn't need this any more. Ever since coming over to the Cincinnati Reds he has battled injury after injury and criticism after criticism. His latest injury, a separated shoulder, resulted from an all-out dive to catch a fly ball on Saturday.

We'll soon hear that Griffey should have known better than to dive for the ball. And if he didn't dive, we would have heard that he should have. Hell, even before coming to Cincinnati when he was still the Michael Jordan of baseball, Griffey was constantly criticized.

In 1994, current Texas Rangers manger and then New York Yankees skipper Buck Showalter lambasted Griffey for "sloppy dressing." More specifically he felt that Griffey was disrespecting the game by wearing his hat backwards during warm ups and in the All-Star Game's Home Run Contest. Give me a break. Griffey was a care free kid who loved baseball.

Who can ever forget Griffey rounding third base in the 11th inning of Game Five of the 1995 ALDS and the pure unadulterated joy on his face as he was mobbed by teammates? It was in large part because of this scene that the Seattle Mariners received funding for a new stadium, allowing them to remain in Seattle. Everyone seems to ignore the fact that Griffey, along with Randy Johnson and Edgar Martinez, saved baseball in the Pacific Northwest.

It was because of Griffey's skill and charisma that I jumped on his bandwagon back in 1990 when Seattle was in the midst of 15 straight losing seasons, a streak which began in 1977, the team's inaugural year. The Mariners weren't even on the radar screen before Griffey came to town. But, because of him, people like me started paying attention to the Mariners.

Throughout the 1990s Griffey was not only the best player in the Majors, but also was the League's most engaging, charismatic and marketable commodity. For those reasons, and because they were both exceptional center fielders, Griffey was rightfully compared to the greatest all around player of all-time -- Willie Mays.

Then before the last year of his contract, Griffey told the Mariners that he wasn't going to resign with them. He didn't have to do that. He could have played out the season in Seattle, before leaving for a top dollar contract elsewhere. But, Seattle wasn't the issue and neither was money. So he gave the Mariners a chance to get something in return for him, instead of losing him for nothing in free agency.

He wanted to play for a team closer to his family -- his wife and children lived in Orlando and his parents lived in Cincinnati, Griffey's hometown. In the words of Peter Gammons, "Is there something wrong with a superstar whose family is this important? Not hardly. In a society rotted by family dysfunction, Griffey is family." Yet, for some reason, Griffey was tarred and feathered for this.

After the trade, instead of demanding a contract which would have made him the highest paid player in the game, which he should have been considering as he was the best player in the game, Griffey settled for a nine year $116.5 million deal -- at least $30 million less then the Mariners offered him. $57.5 million of the contract was deferred money which meant that he would earn between nine and ten million dollars in present day value for the duration of the agreement.

Consider that in 1999, Kevin Brown signed a seven year $105 million dollar contract with the Dodgers, which paid him an average salary of $15 million per year. Brown wasn't even the best pitcher in the game at the time and has missed most of the past two years with injuries, but for some reason he is nothing more than an afterthought in the minds of critics.

Griffey's contract was such a bargain for the Reds that Scott Boras -- the agent who got Alex Rodriguez the $252 million dollar contract said, "If the player owns a Rolls-Royce and he chooses to sell it at Volkswagen prices, that's his right."

In other words, the Reds found themselves the bargain of the century. Players and agents were unhappy with Griffey for not breaking the bank and establishing a new market. Again, he was vilified.

In his first season in the National League, after 11 in the American League, Griffey suffered a "down year," as he hit a mere .271 with 40 home runs and 118 RBIs. Give the man a break, this would have been a career year for 99.9 percent of the players in Major League history and he did all this while adjusting to a new league.

But, Griffey has been unable to build off the promising beginning to his Reds' career. Over the past two years he has battled injuries. In the final week of spring training 2001, Griffey tore his hamstring and then in the sixth game of the 2002 campaign, he tore a tendon in his right knee, while being caught in a rundown between third base and home plate.

During this time, Griffey has been blasted for his conditioning. To these eyes he hasn't looked out of shape. And as the old saying goes, "it's easy to hit a man when he is down."

Who knows what his training regiment includes? One thing is certain, however, it does not include steroids and may not even include amino acids, creatine or any other body building supplements en vogue among his colleagues today.

Take a look at Griffey in 1989, and then look at him now. He looks pretty much the same. Look at Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire, Barry Bonds (to name a few) now, and compare them to how they looked during their rookie seasons.

Each one has put on a ton of muscle and while they may have done it legitimately, there have to be some questions about how they and so many others have gotten so big so fast. You can't even tell that Sosa is the same person that he was in his rookie year.

Nobody has ever accused Griffey of using any of these "get big quick" techniques. Yet, he is routinely criticized for not caring about his body. Perhaps, we should compliment Griffey for his obvious refusal to cave in to the pressure to take steroids or supplements, a clear sign that he does in fact care about his body and his future.

Another slap in the face came during the off-season when Reds GM Jim Bowden tried to trade him for Phil Nevin, who has had two good seasons in his very mediocre career.

Griffey doesn't need this disrespect anymore. He is already a first ballot Hall of Famer. No, he doesn't have a championship ring, but neither do many stars. It's time for him to take off his spikes for good. Maybe when he is gone people will finally appreciate him for what he was -- the best player of the 1990s and one of the best players of all time.