Celebrating the career of Ken Griffey Jr. is a celebration of joy. It’s celebrating greatness at its purest form, untainted by the shady steroid era. It was watching a kid play a sport like a man but enjoy it like…a kid.
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The Holy Grail for any boy in the late 80’s-early 90’s was this: a 1989 Upper Deck Ken Griffey Jr. rookie card. The card itself isn’t flashy like today’s over-glossed and overpriced cardboard pictures of athletes are. It was simple: the face of a kid whose tremendous talent was overshadowed only by his evident joy of getting to play in the big leagues. A royal blue hat with the yellow “S” for Seattle shifted high enough on his head to show all of the youth on his face. The blue high-neck shirt under his white Mariners jersey adorned with a gold chain that exhibited royalty but not to the point of excess. A weapon, in this case, a golden brown wooden bat leaned on his shoulder. A basic, thin white border with his name typed in the lower right corner in small font. Small because, well, this Junior didn’t need an introduction.
Those older than us in our 30’s will say they’ve never seen a player like Mickey Mantle or Willie Mays or Pete Rose. Put Junior in that group as well. Hitting, defense, base running, you name it, Griffey did it. And he did it with a contagious joy. Has anyone in baseball in the last 20 years had such sheer love for the game like Junior?
On Wednesday afternoon, Griffey officially got the call that he along with Mike Piazza are the newest Hall of Fame members. This isn’t surprising, and neither is the fact that Griffey got 99.3% of the votes, a Hall of Fame record. What is surprising is that 3 voters didn’t vote for him.
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The dynamic career of Ken Griffey Jr. is exhibited most concisely in the sheer numbers: 13 All-Star games, 10 Gold Gloves (only two outfielders ever had more), 7 Silver Slugger awards (again, only two outfielders ever won more), and is one of only three players to have 500 or more home runs and win 10 or more Gold Gloves (Willie Mays and Mike Schmidt). He ended with 630 home runs and 1,836 RBIs. Those numbers are mind-blowing for any player who is in the league for 22 years. They ring even more impressive when you find out for 11 of those 22 years, Griffey played in less than 120 games.
Were it not for the injury bug including a broken finger, broken hand, torn hamstring, and numerous other injuries, Griffey would be talked about as the greatest baseball player of all time. Think about it in this context: his 630 home runs came having 660 fewer plate appearances than Alex Rodriguez, 1,192 less than Mays, 1,302 less than Barry Bonds, and 2,637 less than Hank Aaron. If he had the same amount of at-bats as Bonds, he would have ended with over 700 homers. The same number as Aaron, and Griffey would be the all-time home run champion. But if there were no injuries, it would probably mean Griffey wasn’t hustling as hard as he did in the field, making acrobatic catches and amazing throws for put-outs constantly. And since his name has never been linked to any of the steroid buzz from others in his playing days, Griffey’s natural talents and abilities shine even more than they would if we only looked at raw numbers.
The numbers aren’t what most baseball fans will remember. Those are for stoic purists who don’t care about the player as much as they do what his on-base percentage was like in the 7th inning. Ken Griffey Jr. loved baseball. He didn’t have to tell us he did. We saw it when he stepped to the plate. We saw it after he made catches that boggled the mind. We saw it on the dozens of cards we tore through pack after pack trying to find. And who played baseball in the late 80’s and 90’s and didn’t try to imitate that masterful swing, one that looked as if God himself had come down to bat left-handed?
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On June 20, 1997 I had the fortune of going to see the Texas Rangers play Griffey’s Seattle Mariners. As a Braves fan, all I really cared about was seeing Junior play. In the 5th inning, with the bases loaded, Griffey crushed a pitch from Bobby Witt out of the park to give the Mariners a 5-0 lead. The score made no difference to me. I had just seen the greatest baseball player of my generation hit a grand slam. It was like seeing Jordan dunk from the free throw line. It was Tiger Woods nailing a 40-foot putt. It was a hero doing what heroes do.
Celebrating the career of Ken Griffey Jr. is a celebration of joy. It’s celebrating greatness at its purest form, untainted by the shady steroid era. It was watching a kid play a sport like a man but enjoy it like…a kid.
Two decades later, I’ve still yet to get my own Griffey Holy Grail. The 1989 Upper Deck rookie of Junior grinning almost like a little boy unaware of the destiny before him has still managed to evade my collection. But in some closet in some cardboard box sit other cardboard memories of Griffey. Cards with pictures of him swinging, of him flashing leather, of him with his father playing on the same team. But it’s the ones of him grinning like a fool from ear to ear that are the best. In a world where so many entitled athletes want more of this and more of that, Junior just wanted to play baseball. I’m just glad I got to watch him do it.
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Photo: Getty Images