There is a lot in my life that I owe to Ken Griffey Jr.
I know that sounds a little strange, particularly when it comes from a Boston Red Sox fan who counts baseball as his third favorite sport, but it is true. In fact, I can name quite a few things about me that are directly related to the influence of Junior.
Take, for instance, this column name. Yep, for those of you who have yet to figure it out, "Call Me Junior" comes from the intro to Major League Baseball Featuring Ken Griffey Jr. No one else from that era, or really any era since, could have carried a baseball video game franchise on his back. But then again, few players have had the blend of charisma and talent that Griffey had.
What else? Well, there was my failed league batting stance (it's not that easy to emulate that smooth swing with any success), my lucky number (24), and, finally, my penchant for wearing my hat backwards at all times. And to top it all off, in my 1996 elementary school mock Presidential election, I voted Griffey for President, with the Mariner Moose as a running mate.
Basically what I'm saying is that as far as professional athletes go, there are few that I like as much as Griffey. And after saying all that, I still wish he had retired after this past season.
But Griffey is giving it another go in 2010. It was announced last Thursday that the Mariners had signed him to a one-year deal to extend his career in Seattle. To be fair, it's not like he was terrible last year. He hit only .214, but he did have 19 home runs and a team-leading 63 walks while playing with a sore knee. What he lacked in production, Griffey made up in personality, becoming a leader and clubhouse jokester in Seattle.
At the same time, those numbers are not going away and could even suffer a downturn thanks to the knee surgery he had last month to remove a bone spur. Griffey is, after all, going to turn 40 this Saturday and will be playing in his 22nd season in the Major Leagues.
So, I think I am justifiably worried that this could affect his legacy. No one likes to see a player of Griffey's caliber scraping by as a shell of his former self, and no matter how you feel about a player, it is always tough to watch the slow, steady decline of any great athlete.
There is some precedent for this situation. While Griffey is the greatest five-tool outfielder of my generation, one of his predecessors also had trouble walking away from the game. Willie Mays played his final two seasons for the New York Mets, ending his career at the age of 42 by playing just 66 games and hitting .211.
Not good enough for you? Well, on the gridiron and in the NBA, there are plenty of comparisons. Two of the greatest centers of all-time — Hakeem Olajuwon and Patrick Ewing — ended their careers at the age of 39 in the respective cities of Toronto and Orlando with numbers similar to Ervin (not Magic) Johnson in his prime. And the best wide receiver ever, Jerry Rice, spent most of his last few seasons wallowing in football hell, aka Oakland, before playing his last six games with the Seattle Seahawks.
I don't want Griffey to end up on a list with these guys. I don't want to have to look upon every home run Griffey hits as a moment of nostalgia. And I don't want to see my favorite baseball player of all time continue his decline from superstardom.
So even though I am glad he returned to Seattle to finish his career these last few seasons, it almost makes it worse to watch such a different Griffey wearing that uniform. He isn't the same player I used to idolize, but I'll always call him Junior.
--
Ethan Landy is a senior majoring in English. He can be reached at Ethan.Landy@tufts.edu.
