Kuzul

Many hitters in the league have powerful uppercut swings designed to hit 40-plus home runs per season, but what 10 hitters have the kind of smooth, level cut that would make them untapped tennis talents?

We’ll begin with a couple honorable mentions, albeit players that are no longer active, and then we’ll begin the countdown from No. 10 to No. 1 in the best MLB swings that could translate to Wimbledon Success.

So, which baseball players may have been tearing up a clay court or grass court instead of a diamond or stadium?

And which guys could have excelled in both tennis and America’s Pastime?

Let’s begin…

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Cliff Lee just finished perhaps his best start of the season—thus proving once again that he should not be traded.

Lee (5-3), lowered his ERA to 2.55. He allowed no runs and struck out seven Cincinnati Reds batters in a complete game. It was his second complete game of the season.

Lee has been the focus of many potential trade rumors, and for good reason. He is the best player on the market right now. No disrespect to Roy Oswalt, but this is the man to get. Hopefully, the Mariners can see beyond their current struggles and realize how much value there is in keeping Lee.

Here’s just a short list of his strongest features:

He Works Fast

Lee is probably the fastest-working pitcher in Major League Baseball. At one point tonight, for instance, he was on the mound to start the half inning, ready to throw again, before the opposing pitcher was back in the dugout. His quick pace is a refreshing reminder of how baseball used to be played—back when it was America’s true pastime, and pitchers and batters would play the game proficiently. Now, watching a Red Sox-Yankees game is like receiving a prison sentence. Everyone should be thankful that Lee’s outings save an extra hour of their lives.

He Contributes to Good Team Chemistry

Lee has never been in trouble at any point in his career. Whether in Cleveland, Philadelphia, or Seattle, he has always been a steady influence in the dugout. He takes his outings in stride and always competes.

He has Quality Playoff Experience

Lee pitched in the 2009 World Series, and if it weren’t for Hideki Matsui, he could have made a push for MVP. He was as important as any member of the Phillies, not only in the World Series itself, but in helping Philadelphia get there. His second half of last season, after the Phillies acquired him, and his performance during the playoffs established him as a top-10 pitcher in the league, bar none. It caught me by surprise that Philly would give him up, even with the chance to get Roy Halladay. Now that Seattle is thinking the same way, I am in a state of shock once again.

One Bad Season Doesn’t Ensure Another

Lee had one terrible season, in 2007, when he posted a 6.29 ERA. Not numbers of a man you would consider an elite pitcher at the time. He rebounded the next year, however, putting up a 22-3 record with a 2.54 ERA with Cleveland. Lee took home the American League Cy Young Award that year. He was also fourth in Cy Young balloting in 2005, going 18-5. He has shown in the past that he was great and will continue to dominate in the future.

He Pitches in Safeco Field

Safeco Field is considered a pitchers’ ballpark and Lee has been solid in four of five home outings. (He hasn’t been too shabby on the road, either—he has not allowed more than three runs in a game away from Seattle this year.) Safeco benefits a pitcher’s performance, as Lee has proven after getting comfortable in its confines.

The Mariners have always failed to have a great No. two pitcher. The 116-win team featured guys having career years, explaining why they could not challenge the Yankees in the 2001 playoffs. If the Mariners can continue to get hitting from this young lineup, then they will have a chance to go to the postseason and reach the World Series.

With Felix Hernandez and Cliff Lee, the Mariners would have a legitimate shot at the title with some offensive support. Throw in Doug Fister behind them and championship hopes are more reasonable than not.

Look, the Mariners are always among the top 10 in payroll, but not always there in wins. Getting rid of a sure thing in a No. one or two starter does not indicate a winning club—it just reminds us of the pre-Griffey M’s.

If the Mariners have any hopes of becoming better, they should keep the known product in Lee. It would take a ridiculous amount of talent on the receiving end to make a trade for this man. This is not the lottery; this is professional baseball, and the M’s should make decisions with that in mind. Prospects are nice, but a top-notch starting pitcher for ten years with Hernandez promises a sunny outlook. We will have to see what Jack Z decides to do.

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I was five years old when my dad took me to my first baseball game.

Old Municipal Stadium in Cleveland, Ohio was the scene. Even in 1986, “The Mistake by the Lake” was well past its prime. I believe Muni Stadium purists, like myself, defended the 78,000-seat paper weight by claiming it had character.

Municipal’s aura attacked every fans’ six senses. It doesn’t get any better than a glob of spicy stadium mustard finding its final resting place on a ballpark dog. Perhaps it was the monstrous beams that obstructed the view of paying spectators or the feel of my leather mitt as I slid my hand in it ready to snare a foul ball. The scent of stale beer and the ripe odor of its remnants that wafted throughout the stadium and could be bottled up and sold. We would brand it Nostalgia by Calvin Klein – your gift with any $50-dollar purchase from Higbees.

I digress.

Now, the next interaction between my Dad and I is fuzzy, but it still remains one of my earliest memories.

Me: Dad, when do the vampires come out?

Dad: Vampires? No, you mean umpires.

Now I can’t be sure, but I would be willing to bet, in all my infinite wisdom as a kindergartner, my reaction to my father’s retort looked something similar to Ken Griffey Jr.’s in the picture above. The old man was trying to take a moment to teach his young tot a thing about baseball. I knew better.

Me (a couple minutes later): Here come the vampires!

Though my baseball career faded after 6th grade and my dad’s after high school, Major League Baseball has embraced Father-Son duos for decades.

To celebrate Father’s Day 2010, Whatifsports.com has concocted an hypothetical sandlot match-up. We have placed 25 fathers on one roster (San Diego Fathers) and 25 sons on the other (Phoenix Sons). Using our MLB Simulation engine and MLB Dream Team rosters , we want to see if the young whippersnappers can hang with their old men.

Known for his defense more than his offense, Alomar Sr. was voted to the All-Star game in 1970.

Bonds Away: 332 HRs and 1024 RBIs in 14 seasons

“Big Daddy” smacked 51 home runs for the Tigers in 1990. He followed that with 44 dingers in ’91 and 35 bombs in ’92.

BENCH: Gary Matthews , Gus Bell , Bob Boone , Felipe Alou , Dick Nen , Tony Armas , Julian Javier and George Sisler

BULLPEN: Joe Niekro , Dizzy Trout , Floyd Bannister , Jim Bagby, Clyde Wright , Mike Bacsik Sr., Ed Walsh and Pedro Borbon Sr.

I need to pass along a few roster notes before my inbox is blasted questioning the accuracy of this simulation. First, I’m sure we are missing some great father-son tandems, but we have a 25-man roster. Some patriarchs and their heirs to the family baseball throne were cut. Former Chicago White Sox pitcher, Ed Walsh, made the Fathers’ roster. His son, Ed Jr. did not. Freddy Lindstrom also made the roster without his son, Chuck. Sandy Alomar Sr. produced two sons with impressive enough professional careers to take two spots on the Sons’ roster. Though his dad was a manager, Cal Ripken was added to the Sons list, but is coming off the bench. Also, Luis Tiant ‘s dad never played in MLB, but was statistically one of best players in the Negro Leagues. We selected each athlete based on their top statistical season.

Roberto appeared in 12 consecutive All-Star games. His brother, Sandy, appeared in six.

Bonds Away: 762 HRs and 1996 RBIs in 22 seasons

Prince hit 50 home runs in just his 3rd MLB season. It took his dad 5 seasons to break 50. Both needed 573 at-bats to accomplish the feat.

BENCH: Cal Ripken, Aaron Boone , Moises Alou , Buddy Bell , Stan Javier , Lance Niekro , and Gary Matthews Jr.

BULLPEN: Luis Tiant, Steve Trout , Brian Bannister , Jim Bagby Jr. , Jaret Wright , Tony Armas Jr. , Mike Bacsik Jr., Pedro Borbon Jr. and Robb Nen

Win or lose this Father’s Day exhibition, the Phoenix Sons’ starting pitcher, Todd Stottlemyer already possessed bragging rights over his father, Mel. The former Blue Jays’ pitcher won not one, but two World Series rings with Toronto. Dear Old Dad came up short in the 1964 World Series against St. Louis. Mel managed to meet the Cardinals’ Bob Gibson three times that series. Unfortunately for the Yankees, the elder Stottlemyer was bested in Game 7 and the title traveled to St. Louis.

Mel had little issue with the Sons in the first inning. His son, however, felt the wrath of on Bonds, Fielder and the almighty power of Ben Gay. The old men roughed up Todd for four runs on three hits in the first. He faced all nine batters before getting his dad out on a fly out to left-center.

Benefiting from a four-run cushion, Mel mowed down the Sons in the second. Todd got two outs in the bottom half of the inning, but left a juicy pitch over the plate that Bobby Bonds deposited in the bleachers.

The Phoenix Sons were in trouble. Down 6-0 after two innings left little room for error the rest of the way. You thought dad’s paddle was harsh; just wait until you have to hear him talk trash.

The Sons finally cracked the scoreboard in the fourth on a Sandy Alomar Jr. single scoring Barry Bonds.

Then in the 6th and 7th innings the Sons busted out the big bats. Remembering that chicks dig the long ball, Phoenix began to rally back. Alomar Jr. continued to produce for his team blasting a 2-run dinger to cut the Fathers’ lead to three runs after six innings of play.

Ken Griffey Jr. and Barry Bonds provided some fireworks prior to the 7th inning stretch. Junior’s crush shot knocked Mel out of the game. Clinging to a one run lead, Floyd Bannister (father of Brian) entered the game for San Diego. His first batter was Bonds. His last batter was Bonds. The slugger matched daddy’s early inning achievement by blasting his own shot out of the park to tie the game at 6. Mike Bacsik Sr. took over for Bannister and recorded the final out of the inning.

The Sons’ rally was short lived. Mike Bacsik Jr. had entered the game an inning earlier and set down the order 1-2-3. But the bottom of the 7th proved to be a different animal. Bacsik gave up a lead off single to Fielder followed by a double off the bat of Griffey Sr. For whatever reason, the third base coach waved Fielder and his fleet of foot speed home, only to be gunned down at the plate. But disaster was imminent even as “Big Daddy” continued to dust off his jersey. Freddy Lindstrom came up clutch with a two-run bomb to push San Diego back ahead 8-6.

Bacsik Sr. made one mistake while on the hill allowing pinch-hitter Cal Ripken Jr. to smoke the ball over the left field fence and once again provide life to the Sons.

Phoenix headed to the top of the 9th trailing 8-7 with one last crack at taking down the Fathers. Pedro Borbon Sr. ran in from the bullpen to shut it down. Tony Gwynn Jr. made things interesting with a leadoff single before advancing to third on a two-out single off the bat of Prince Fielder. So, there are runners on the corners with two out for Alomar Jr., who already had two hits and three ribbies on the evening. But the catcher can’t catch up, swings and misses on strike three to end the game.

The San Diego Fathers beat the Phoenix Sons in this Father’s Day exhibition 8-7 the final.

Game Recap Fun Fact: Mike Bacsik Sr. recorded the win for the Father’s and Mike Bacsik Jr. got the loss for the Sons. Did you know Bacsik Jr. was the pitcher who gave up career home run 756 to Barry Bonds? In an eerie twist, Bacsik Sr. was one of 30 pitchers who faced Hank Aaron when the former home run king sat on 755. Dad held Henry to 1-2 with a single.

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When Stephen Strasburg was drafted, the book on him was that he had unbelievable control, had command of four pitches, and had overpowering speed. 

Strasburg’s major league debut was a performance for the ages. Strasburg struck out 14 Pittsburgh Pirates and walked none. He fanned the last seven hitters he faced and eight of his final nine. Strasburg threw harder in the seventh inning that he did in the first inning. Amazingly, Strasburg 94th pitch of the day was clocked at 99 miles per hour.

In his second outing, Strasburg was very good, but not nearly as dominant, as he failed to go six innings and walked five batters. Strasburg did, however, strike out eight Cleveland Indians and was still throwing in the high 90s when he left the game.  

Washington Nationals fans believe that, in watching Strasburg, they are going to have a front-row seat to watch the career of a Hall of Fame pitcher. 

Several baseball commentators, however, have cautioned Nationals fans not to begin making Strasburg’s bust for the Hall of Fame as no first overall pick in the draft has ever made it to the Hall of Fame.

While it is true that no first overall pick has made it the Hall, the cold water being thrown on the enthusiasm of Nationals fans appears to be misplaced as there are five players who appear poised to break the jinx before Strasburg is ready to call it a career.

The five players that will likely end the jinx of the first overall player not getting to the Hall of Fame are:

Josh Hamilton – 1999

Hamilton is, once again, considered to be one of the premier outfielders in baseball.  In his first four seasons with the Rangers, Hamilton has 440 hits, 75 home runs, 274 RBIs and a batting average of .294.   Hamilton turned 29 earlier this year and his prospects for getting into the Hall of Fame will likely be dictated on whether he gets enough at-bats over the course of his career. 

Joe Mauer – 2001

Mauer is not only well positioned to get to the Hall of Fame, but is putting up numbers such that he could be considered to be the greatest player at his position.

In his sixth season, Mauer has 908 hits, 74 home runs, 425 RBIs, .a career 326 batting average, three Silver Slugger awards, and a Most Valuable Player award.  Joe has an incredibly strong arm, which limits the number of runners who take chances on the base paths against the Twins; Mauer has also been awarded two Golden Glove awards.

Alex Rodriguez – 1993

A-Rod is about join very elite company later this year, when he hits his 600th career home run.  Rodriquez will turn 35 in July and many wonder whether he will play long enough to become the all-time home run leader; he will likely play long enough to join the 3,000 hit fraternity.  A-Rod’s career numbers appears to be more than Hall of Fame worthy: 2,596 hits, 591 home runs, 1,749 RBIs, .304 batting average, three Silver Slugger awards, three MVP awards, four Hank Aaron awards and two Golden Glove awards from his earlier days at shortstop.

If Rodriquez does not make the Hall, it will be because voters believe that he did more than have a brief flirtation with steroids.

Chipper Jones – 1990

Jones has been one of the more prominent faces of the Atlanta Braves franchise.  Jones will not reach the magical milestones of 500 home runs or 3,000 hits, but it is difficult to see how his offensive career numbers don’t get him into the Hall of Fame at the end of the day. Jones’ career numbers: 2,444 hits, 429 home runs, 1,467 RBIs, a .306 batting average and a Most Valuable Player award.  If Jones does not make it to the Hall of Fame, it will be because voters believe his defensive skills fell short. 

Ken Griffey, Jr. – 1987

When he announced his retirement last week, almost all stories concerning Junior acknowledged that he was going to be a first-ballot Hall of Fame player. 

Griffey’s career numbers: 2,781 hits, 630 home runs, 1,836 RBIs, a .284 batting average, seven Silver Slugger awards, an MVP award, 13 All-Star selections and ten Gold Glove awards.  Griffey was also selected to Major League Baseball’s All-Century team in 1999.

Griffey will be the first player selected first-overall in the draft that will be elected to the Hall of Fame.

Strasburg will, therefore, not have to worry about the jinx of being selected first overall.  Of course, those who are superstitious and believe in the power of black cats will point out that the jinx concerning players drafted first overall still applies—to pitchers.

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Baseball has always had a funny way of uniting its players under a common theme, no matter how similar or distinct they are, throughout its illustrious timeline .  

The 1970 season saw two of the game’s most prolific power hitters, Hank Aaron and Willie Mays, record their 3,000th hits.

In 2007, Cal Ripken, Jr. and Tony Gwynn, two of the most highly regarded players who spent their entire careers with hometown ball clubs, were inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame together.

And, just last year, Paul Konerko and Jermaine Dye, teammates for five seasons and co-contributors to the 2005 White Sox World Series title, hit their career 300th home runs in back-to-back at-bats (a Major League Baseball first). 

On Wednesday, two more players, not very similar at first glance, were seamed together through a twist of fate.

Ken Griffey, Jr., one of the most prominent baseball figures from this generation, announced his retirement after hundreds of home runs, high-flying catches, and outstanding highlights.

That same evening, Armando Galarraga , a Detroit Tigers pitcher with barely two years of Major League experience, nearly threw a perfect game against the Cleveland Indians.

The common thread? Two terrific stories, one spanning 22 years, the other a mere one hour and 44 minutes, finished with very disappointing endings.

As most followers know, Griffey’s career started with a burst, almost as impressive as the ones he used to track down every fly ball zipping through Seattle’s Kingdome .

During his first stint with the Mariners, Ken amassed numbers and accolades in 11 seasons that most players would take in 20. He recorded 398 home runs, ten Gold Gloves, a Most Valuable Player Award, and an induction into MLB’s All-Century Team—all before the age of 30. 

The statistics don’t begin to do justice for what Griffey meant to Seattle baseball, and to the sport as a whole.

His backwards-cap style, silky-smooth swing, and classic ear-to-ear grin were always welcome sights, whether during a Mariners game, as part of the Home Run Derby (which he won three times), or on the Wheaties cereal box.

And Griffey is often credited for saving baseball in Seattle. By most accounts, his contributions to the 1995 playoff run ultimately influenced the construction of Safeco Field, which established the Mariners as a permanent fixture in the state of Washington.   

As the second half of Griffey’s career commenced, however, his luster rapidly declined.

Ravaged by injuries throughout his tenure with the Cincinnati Reds, Griffey’s hopes at eclipsing Aaron (and later Barry Bonds) as the all-time home run record holder were decimated.

Although he had a few decent seasons, Griffey’s career failed to live up to expectations after the 2000 season.

He was traded to the White Sox in 2008, spending half a year there before returning to Seattle for a 2009 swan song with the Mariners. 

Griffey, as he’d done in several previous years, tried to suppress the wrath of Father Time this season. Ken signed another one-year contract with Seattle, only to learn he had had enough.

Galarraga started off just as strong in his tilt against the Indians. In fact, he never skipped a beat through eight and two-thirds innings, retiring 26 straight batters on only 82 pitches. However, the 85th pitch, on a 1-1 count to Tribe shortstop Jason Donald, will be remembered forever.

Donald hit a ground ball to the hole between first and second. Tigers first baseman Miguel Cabrera fielded it cleanly and fed the ball to Galarraga , who was running to cover the bag.

Galarraga received the ball, touched first, and was ready to celebrate the 21st perfect game in MLB history—and the third this season.

Literally in mid-hop, Galarraga , along with the entire Tigers dugout and home crowd, were stunned to see first base umpire Jim Joyce signal “safe”. As countless replays and even Joyce indicated afterwards, the call was wrong.

Nevertheless, Galarraga was not rewarded for his perfect outing. Sports radio hosts, ESPN analysts, and the like debated endlessly about implementing instant replay and called for a reversal of the botched call.

But it was all to no avail.

Two incredible beginnings and two crushing endings.

Two players who did not deserve the hands they were dealt.

Griffey was tormented by constant trips to the disabled list. Galarraga was torched by a bad call from an otherwise well-respected umpire, who would probably make the correct ruling 99 times out of 100.

If there is a silver lining to this otherwise dreary cloud, it is this. Both players demonstrated absolute class and deference.

Griffey stands out as someone who is widely believed to have succeeded while staying clean of performance-enhancing drug use over the last two decades. While his fellow sluggers (Bonds, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, etc.) are repeatedly scrutinized for their alleged acts of cheating, Griffey has earned the general consensus that his high level of play was the result of pure innate ability.

Similarly, Galarraga has since been praised continuously for how he handled the incident. Rather than display much-warranted frustration, he kept his composure, not only to retire Trevor Crowe for the last out of the ballgame, but also to openly accept Joyce’s apology.

“Nobody is perfect,” he said of the umpire’s mistake. (Could there be a more appropriate, bittersweet response to such a situation?)

The following day, Galarraga handed the next game’s lineup card to a teary-eyed Joyce, showing that all was forgiven and it was time to move on.  

And, indeed, it is time to move on, for both Galarraga and Griffey.

The separate epilogues are left to be written—Griffey’s indisputable trip to Cooperstown and the future of instant replay as a result of Galarraga’s misfortune.

But, for now, the stories have come to a close. 

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Ken Griffey Jr.’s retirement has inspired seemingly every sportswriter in America to recall their fondest memories of baseball’s golden child.

More importantly, Griffey continues to be hailed, now more than ever, as the league’s only steroid-free star of the Steroid Era.  

So, the question here is simple: Why?

The only real persuasive evidence anyone can argue in Griffey’s case is his slim physique. That’s it. But head over to Google Images and type in the names of these suspected users: Edinson Volquez, Paul Byrd, Gary Matthews Jr., Jose Guillen and Rick Ankiel.

All of them have been implicated as steroid users, but even with an extended look, none of them appear to be significantly bigger than Griffey, if they are bigger at all.

Physical appearance aside, Griffey posted far superior numbers to almost everyone in the Steroids Era.

He smacked 630 career homers, good enough for fifth all-time and placing him second to only one Steroids Era player: Barry Bonds. Griffey placed in the league’s top 10 in slugging percentage 10 times, including a stretch of nine years out of 10.

Not even the era’s poster children, Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire, can boast a matching résumé.

Don’t forget that Griffey posted these numbers against pitchers who appear to have been juicing as much as everyone else.

Throughout his illustrious career, Junior also made some of the most mesmerizing catches of all time. He robbed home runs while slamming into the outfield wall and stretched out his limbs to their last tendons to make diving grabs.

Griffey displayed elite athletic ability for the duration of his 21-year career.

So, Griffey’s numbers triumph those of almost every Steroids Era player, and the athleticism he displayed in the outfield is unmatched. Yet because the future Hall of Famer does not have muscles bulging from his neck and his biceps do not resemble something from a bodybuilding competition, he evades every performance-enhancing drug conversation.  

When he is included in one of the conversations, he is designated as “the one great player from the last 25 years who didn’t juice” (oftentimes alongside Derek Jeter).

Oddly enough, Lance Armstrong, who resembles a twig more than he resembles a PED abuser, has been under constant scrutiny and suspicion, long before the recent allegations of his former teammate Floyd Landis surfaced.

You might say, “Oh, but isn’t every rider in the Tour de France juicing?” Well, haven’t we been taught to suspect and more or less just assume every baseball player from the Steroids Era is guilty before proven innocent?

Some might point to Ken Griffey Sr.’s presence in the locker room during Junior’s early days in the majors as an explanation for his supposed steroid-free career, but Senior only shared the clubhouse with Junior for two seasons. Others might point to his lengthy list of injuries as evidence against any performance-enhancing drug use.

Now, in no way should we start looking at Griffey as a user simply because he posted great numbers (and in no way am I saying Griffey used steroids). After all, he never tested positive and was never named in any reports or connected to any shady doctors.

But the issue here is that Griffey played in the Steroids Era. He played right from its suspected beginning into its tail end. In that time, he posted not only the best numbers of the era, but of all time.

Griffey should not be exempt from steroids discussion merely because he is skinny.

Barry Bonds never tested positive, yet has emerged as the face of the Steroids Era. Of course, Bonds was connected to BALCO, and Griffey’s name remains clean, but he still should come under the same suspicion many other unconnected players from the era have.

It is time to celebrate the retirement of what may have been one of the greatest careers in baseball history, but when the dust settles, Griffey’s name should not sit alone as the only star who did not juice.

Especially when we have been trained to believe that every player from the Steroids Era did just that.

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Last Wednesday, Ken Griffey Jr., one of the greatest baseball players of all time, hung up his cleats, capping a historic career, both on and off the field.

Much has been made of his 13 All-Star nods, 10 Gold Gloves, seven Silver Sluggers, and one American League MVP Award, but lost in the fray of statistics and record books (in which Griffey certainly plays a dominant role), are the little things that made Ken Griffey Jr.’s career so great.

Growing up as a Mariners fan 1990s, I had the pleasure of witnessing the most epic moments in Mariners history. I saw the Kingdome, the Unit No-No (and the lesser-remembered Bosio No-No), Jay Buhner Hair Nights, and of course, the Ken Griffey Jr. Era of Seattle Mariners baseball.

As Jeff Sullivan of Lookout Landing wrote, “The experience of watching Ken Griffey Jr. rise in Seattle just seems like one of those things every Mariner fan should have in common.” Jeff was lamenting his long-distance admiration of Griffey in the 1990s, and eloquently explained a perceived Mariners fan rite of passage. Of course, Jeff Sullivan is one of the greatest Mariners’ minds in the business, and he has more than compensated for being far away from The Kid in the 1990s, but I found his statement concerning the Griffey Era remarkable.

Everyone knows about The Double, the Father/Son Homers, and The Wrist-Breaking Catch. What made Griffey’s run in Seattle so epic, however, was the little things like grinning, shimmying, shaking, and play-making.

So here is your forum, baseball fans, to share your Ken Griffey Jr. story. I encourage each reader to comment below with their “Ken Griffey Jr. moment.”

Here is my Ken Griffey Jr. moment:

I grew up in Bellingham, Washington, about 90 miles north of Seattle. Naturally, I grew up a Seattle Mariners fan, but being 90 miles from the Mariners had its drawbacks. 90 miles is close enough to go to games every now and then, but getting home after a 7:00 p.m. game was a task (midnight at best), and it took our best persuasive techniques to get my parents to take us down to the ballpark.

This being the case, most of the landmark Seattle Mariners’ moments came were viewed though my television, including all of the above-mentioned events (Unit No-No, etc.). It was not until I moved to Seattle in 2009, that I began attending Mariners’ games on a regular basis. Luckily, in the last year of Ken Griffey Jr.’s career, I witnessed what I consider my “Griffey Moment.”

On June 19, 2009, the Seattle Mariners hosted the Arizona Diamondbacks at Safeco Field. Entering the eighth inning, the Mariners trailed 3-0. Following a Russell Branyan solo home run, the Mariners sat trailing by two, with two outs and a runner on third.

As if from a movie script, Ken Griffey Jr. stepped into the on-deck circle to pinch hit for Wladimir Balentien.

Safeco Field erupted.

I, caught amidst the nostalgia, joined the resounding chorus of Safeco field, and participated in a standing ovation for The Kid. Concurrently, I leaned to my wife and her friend and said two things. First, that I had never heard Safeco Field so loud, and two, that it was a damn shame because Griffey was probably just going to strike out.

I was so delightfully wrong.

First pitch. Boom.

Tony Pena delivered a belt-high four-seam fastball, and Griffey sent it four hundred feet into right-center field. Safeco Field erupted, I was jumping up and down, and in an instant, I witnessed the charisma, nostalgia, and greatness of Ken Griffey Jr.’s Seattle Mariners career.

In an uncharacteristic moment, I almost teared up at a baseball game. It was uncharacteristic because I’m not a crying kind of guy. Not out of any attempted stereotypical manliness, but out of genuine physical inability. There are moments when I feel like crying, but it just doesn’t happen. Those moments, to me, are the same as crying is to other people. This was one of those moments.

I wasn’t there for The Double. I wasn’t there for a breath-taking Griffey catch. Instead, I was there for Griffey’s return. Ken Griffey Jr., and all his greatness, warranted a standing ovation nearly every time he was a late game pinch hitter. In this moment, he fulfilled every expectation in the stadium.

In this moment, Ken Griffey Jr. achieved greatness, both to the fans and the game.

Click Here to see the pinch hit home run , and tell me it doesn’t send shivers down your spine.

That is my Ken Griffey Jr. story.

Please share yours below.

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The Ken Griffey, Jr. Era officially ended on Wednesday, June 2, 2010 when the player known as “The Kid” retired from baseball after 22 seasons, 630 home runs, 1836 RBIs, and 1662 runs scored.  Griffey retires with one of the greatest resumes in the history of Major League Baseball.

Read any of the coverage of Junior’s retirement and you’ll begin to piece together the narrative of his career.  Griffey was drafted No. 1 overall in 1988 by the Seattle Mariners out of high school, and made an immediate impact in the major leagues.

He played in the same lineup with his dad Ken Sr. in 1990, the first time that had ever happened. He was one of the greatest players of all time by the age of 30, and despite being ravaged by injuries for most of his career, he was one of the two or three greatest power-hitting centerfielders of all-time.

And he did it all without the help of steroids in an era in a league overrun with steroid abusers.

Except . . . 

Are we willing to say that Ken Griffey, Jr. never used steroids?

Why?

It is incredibly difficult to believe, in this day and age, that any baseball fan would be willing to assume that a major league baseball player did not use steroids simply because his name never appeared on a positive test.

After ten-plus years of “shocking” steroids/PEDs revelations, the baseball-viewing public cannot possibly believe that a mere absence of evidence is evidence of cleanness.

Remember how shocked and surprised we all were when it turned out Jose Canseco, major league baseball’s biggest star in 1988, had been using steroids?  

How about when it turned out that Ken Caminiti had won a Most Valuable Player award in 1996 with the help of steroids?

Remember how shocked, hurt, and confused we all were when Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa, then Barry Bonds and Jason Giambi, then Rafael Palmeiro and Miguel Tejada, then Roger Clemens and Andy Pettitte, and then, most recently, Alex Rodriguez and Manny Ramirez, were all busted for using performance enhancing drugs?

It seems to me that, by now, we should have all learned that the fact that a player has yet to test positive, in all likelihood, simply means he hasn’t been caught yet.

Does Griffey Not Fit the Profile of a Steroid User?

Remember, 103 players tested positive in 2003, and so far the only names we know are A-Rod, Manny, Sosa, and David Ortiz. Assuming Bonds, Giambi, Palmeiro, Tejada, and Clemens would all have been on that list as well, that leaves us about 95 players short.

How can we say conclusively that Griffey was not one of those players?

It’s not like Griffey doesn’t fit the profile of a steroid user, because he pretty much does. Griffey’s career has so many things in common with the careers of guys we either know or assume were using steroids that it is almost embarrassing when people pretend not to notice.

We naturally assume that guys like Juan Gonzalez, Brady Anderson, and Nomar Garciaparra, guys who put up conspicuous power numbers before succumbing to a rash of injuries while still in their primes, were on steroids.  

Yet we blindly and willingly assume that Griffey, who couldn’t stay on the field for a full season from the age of 30 to the age of 37, was clean.

We also look at guys like Steve Finley, Luis Gonzalez, Rafael Palmeiro, Ken Caminiti, and Sammy Sosa, guys who went from relatively light hitters to major power hitters, and assume that they were using steroids (or, in the case of the last three, we know they were).  

Nevertheless, we look at Griffey going from 27 home runs in 142 games in 1992 to 40 home runs in only 111 games in 1994 and we see only greatness.

Then there are guys like Barry Bonds and Mark McGwire. Both McGwire (in 1993 and 1994) and Bonds (1999) suffered injuries that cost them large portions of seasons, but somehow emerged from them the next season stronger than ever.  We naturally assume, or rather actually know, that McGwire and Bonds mixed steroids into their rehabilitation programs and came back stronger and healthier than before they left.

In 1995, Ken Griffey, Jr., missed almost half the season after breaking his wrist early in the season.  The following season, Griffey hit 49 home runs in only 140 games, then he hit 56 home runs in each of the season subsequent to that.

Again, we see only greatness.

Can we ever assume greatness was untainted?

As for the long list of guys who did things no else had ever done before and then later turned out to have done those things while using performance enhancing drugs, Griffey is pretty much the only one on the list that hasn’t been busted.

Whether it is Jose Canseco’s 40-40 season, Alex Rodriguez repeatedly hitting 50 home runs as a shortstop, or McGwire and Sosa hitting 60 home runs with the regularity that some players hit 30 home runs, never-before-seen exploits seem to have almost universally debunked by the steroids scandal.

So why do we assume that when Ken Griffey, Jr. became the only center fielder, and one of the only players ever, to hit 50 or more home runs in consecutive years, he did it on talent alone?

The only indication we really have that Griffey did not use steroids would be the fact that he never blew up like a balloon, a la Bonds, McGwire, Palmeiro, Sosa, Giambi, and just about every other 1990’s Era slugger.

Is that, alone, a basis for assuming that a player spent his entire career without using steroids or some other performance enhancing drug?  Remember, Alex Sanchez tested positive for steroids, and he wasn’t huge. Miguel Tejada also got busted without getting huge.

So, what’s the point of all this?

At this point, it might be good to take a moment to say the following:

I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, saying that I have evidence that Ken Griffey, Jr. used any sort of performance enhancing drug, nor am I saying that I even necessarily suspect that he did.

What I am saying is this: Jose Canseco fooled us. Ken Caminiti fooled us. Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa fooled us, and made us look bad doing it. Barry Bonds and Jason Giambi fooled us when we already should have had our guard up, and Alex Rodriguez and Manny Ramirez fooled us at a point when we definitely should have known better.

So why, on earth, are we so willing to be fooled again?  Why are we willing to say that Ken Griffey, Jr. spent his career as a clean ballplayer?  By now we should all know that the fact that a player has never tested positive for performance enhancing drugs, in all likelihood, just means that he hasn’t been caught yet.

For that matter, it is not necessary to say that Griffey was clean in order to pay proper respect to his career, nor are we required to raise the possibility that he used steroids in order to paint a full picture of his career.

As we remember the career of one of the greatest players of all time, perhaps we should say nothing at all about the subject of performance enhancing drugs. This is a player who retired from baseball after 22 seasons with 630 home runs, 1836 RBIs, and 1662 runs scored.  He was drafted number one overall in 1988 by the Seattle Mariners out of high school; played in the same lineup with his dad Ken Sr. in 1990; one of the greatest players through the age of 30, and one of the greatest power-hitting center fielders of all-time.

He did things that very few other players, either using performance enhancing drugs or not, have never done.  

Isn’t that enough?

We don’t need to make broad, general, and unsubstantiated statements about whether or not he used performance enhancing drugs in order to be able to remember him as a legend.  

For one thing, it just sets us up to be fooled again.  

And for another, his resume speaks for itself.

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A part of my childhood died Wednesday.

No, my dog didn’t pass away. My mother didn’t give away the stuffed bear my parents bought for me the day I was brought into this world. And my trophy collection is still intact on the shelves of my West Chester bedroom. Nonetheless, I felt as if any one of those things had actually happened.

Which is why when Ken Griffey Jr. announced his retirement on Wednesday, I very nearly shed a tear. Sure, his play had deteriorated in recent years. The recent drama over whether he took an in-game nap will weigh on my mind for awhile longer. But it will soon become an afterthought.

Baseball in my family is a tradition passed down like heirlooms and bad jokes. Chances are if you cut open one of my veins and let me bleed for a few minutes, a sunflower seed may escape my body.

My elders love to talk about how great the Big Red Machine was. They gush about what a honor it was to see Pete Rose play the game like his hair was on fire, or how Tony Perez was so clutch and how Johnny Bench was a strong as an ox.

But I take great pride in saying Junior Griffey was my childhood hero. When my kids ask me, “Daddy, who was the best ballplayer you ever saw?” I won’t even have to think.

The Kid.

I could go on about his tumultuous tenure in Cincinnati. Or how ownership never fulfilled their promise to build a championship-caliber team around him. Perhaps I could question why Junior only trained hard after he suffered major injuries. Maybe wonder why he never made it to a World Series.

And here’s the proverbial Junior question: If he’d been relatively healthy during the last half of his career, would he have broken Henry Aaron’s home run record?

I usually openly give in to this small talk, and wonder what if. After all, what kind of true sports fan doesn’t love to speculate?

Not today.

I wasn’t old enough to remember “The Double” in the 1995 American League Division Series, which featured Griffey scoring the winning run from first in the bottom of the 11th inning to beat the Yankees and essentially save baseball in Seattle.

When I watch the replay of Edgar Martinez’s drive down the left-field line against Yankee ace Jack McDowell, two things stick out. Griffey elegantly galloping around the bases, taking each base at the perfect angle and sliding safely into home.

The other image is after the players are creating a mosh pit home plate, Griffey’s head emerges from the bottom of the pile. He was smiling cheek-to-cheek, pure joy emanating from his smile, which reflected the way he played the game.

There are so many spitting images of Griffey. There would be times you’d see him gallivanting around the outfield during batting practice, shagging balls and constantly joking with his teammates.

I always marveled at his swing, which was nothing less than a work of art. I’ll never forget his Home Run Derby shot off the Camden Yards warehouse. Or his power to all fields.

As a defense-first person, I have no problem stating that Junior reinvented the way center-field was played. No ball was uncatchable, whether that meant diving headlong into the grass or leaping over the ball.

In every sense of the word, Junior was a baseball player. Not just because he could hit for average, hit for power, run the bases, throw hard, and catch anything in sight. But because of something more.

The Kid loved the game. And I think it’s safe to say it loved him back.

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Growing up, a lot of kids wanted to be like Mike.

Not me, I wanted to be like Ken.

George Kenneth Griffey Jr. had it all.

He had the skill at the plate and in the field that only others could dream of having, giving him that superstar label rather early in his career.

Unlike most other superstars though, Griffey also had the personality and charisma that created a likeable clubhouse atmosphere.

He was the perfect guy to look up to, and that’s why so many little kids did, including myself.

Robin Yount and Paul Molitor may have played in my backyard, but Junior was the guy that got me interested in baseball.

I’m now a capable switch hitter at the plate because I just wasn’t Griffey if I couldn’t look like him.

We all know about his career; 630 HR, MVP winner, ‘The Slide’, the back-to-back with his dad, the contagious smile and laughter, the 500th home run with his dad in the stands, all the highlight reel catches and one of the sweetest swings that baseball has ever seen.

He also won 10-straight Gold Glove Awards, to which you can create a 24-hour loop of all his great catches, and I would watch it for a week straight.

Griffey had his superstar status without the superstar ego that normally comes with it, making him that much more special to the game.

But perhaps the greatest thing he did throughout his career, was stay away from steroids and PEDs throughout the steroid-era of baseball.

He could have taken the road that so many other superstars took, who didn’t need to (Bonds and A-Rod mainly). Both Barry and Alex had the talent and skill to be the next greatest thing, without needing the needles.

Junior could have turned into a muscle mass and smacked 900 HRs, but he stayed true to himself, and his father, and played his 22 years in the majors clean, with absolutely nobody questioning the integrity of his 630 HRs.

As a seven-year old kid from Wisconsin, I looked up to the 19-year old ‘Kid’ in the Pacific Northwest.

I followed his career to injury-plagued Cincinnati, even though he was with an NL Central enemy. I was amazed he made his way to the Windy City and glad that he was able to finish his long career where it started, in the Emerald City.

Once back in Seattle, it was hard to comprehend that the 20-year old superstar that I’ve adored from afar was now a 40-year old veteran, trying to hang on to his youth.

Some question his early-June exit and wonder why he didn’t finish the year.

I think Griffey left at exactly the right time. He knew that he could no longer produce at the major league level with guys half his age. Junior left on his terms, nobody forced him to walk away.

For 22 years, I watched and adored the Kid, the game just won’t be the same without him roaming the outfield.

Thanks for all the wonderful moments you gave us in the greatest game there is. See you in Cooperstown.

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