Would the last Seattle sports icon to leave please shut off the lights?
Jamie Moyer has left Seattle.
Yeah, doesn’t mean much to you, unless it does, unless you already understand the world in which the story lives.
Moyer is a small man by pitcher standards, smaller than me, and weird, and aloof. He is the Mariners career leader in wins, starts, and innings pitched, the only Ms pitcher to have two 20+ win seasons, and at forty-fucking-three years old is respected around the league as the craftiest no-stuff-havin’ leftie veteran you can hope to face.
He has a veto on any trade, chooses where he goes, because he has damn well earned it. He and his wife run the best sports-related non-profit in the city, and get millions of dollars to people in need, especially children.
Moyer is one of the last, check that, THE last old Seattle sports icon in the city. Nobody else could leave a Seattle team with more history in tow than Jamie.
But, he’s gone to Philly for a couple of prospects. I heard it on the way back from work last night as the final, almost toss-off, clip in the ESPN radio update.
See, given who Jamie is, this means some things. It means he’s done pitching after this season. He isn’t going to start a season as anything but a Mariner at this point in his career. So, why go to Philly at all? Why not play your final games for the organization in which you built your legacy?
Because the veterans of Moyer’s caliber understand and respect this game differently, both more purely and with more compromises, than fans. It is late August, he is given the chance to pitch a month and a half for a contender and get his home team, his real team, some young blood for the future. It is the right thing to do, mainly because to refuse would be the wrong thing, would cross the line to selfishness that a career team athlete just can’t accept.
Fans are going to be upset, but it happens. We’ve seen this before. When GM Bill Bavasi announced the trade, he spoke of Moyer almost as a lost legacy, as though we had to be reminded that he was once a Mariner. No, we’ll have to be reminded, some day, that he was once a Philly, much as San Francisco 49 fans will have to be reminded that Jerry Rice was once a Seahawk. Patrick Ewing ended his career here, Vince Lombardi coached the Redskins after he had achieved icon status in Green Bay, and what was the last jersey that Jordan wore anyway? Moyer will still be remembered as a Mariner.
But, there is something poignant there, regardless. Because he didn’t get to finish the perfect string. It was a shutout, but not a perfect game. He’ll always be ours, but we’ll remember how close he was to being that rare athlete that gets to stay home until the very end.
We may never again see the superstar athlete that retires from the team that drafted him. John Elway got to. Larry Bird. Magic. Better sports geeks than I could extend the list, but might be hard-pressed to name the most recent examples. We settle for players like Brett Favre, drafted by Atlanta, but 13+ years becoming a legendary Green Bay Packer, and though we’re willing to forget if they play a final season, a last few games, in another uniform, it still stings.
Moyer will be remembered as a Mariner in years to come, but we’ve all just been denied the chance to see the final tip of the hat in our stadium, in our colors.
Makes me sad.
Yeah, doesn’t mean much to you, unless it does, unless you already understand the world in which the story lives.
Moyer is a small man by pitcher standards, smaller than me, and weird, and aloof. He is the Mariners career leader in wins, starts, and innings pitched, the only Ms pitcher to have two 20+ win seasons, and at forty-fucking-three years old is respected around the league as the craftiest no-stuff-havin’ leftie veteran you can hope to face.
He has a veto on any trade, chooses where he goes, because he has damn well earned it. He and his wife run the best sports-related non-profit in the city, and get millions of dollars to people in need, especially children.
Moyer is one of the last, check that, THE last old Seattle sports icon in the city. Nobody else could leave a Seattle team with more history in tow than Jamie.
But, he’s gone to Philly for a couple of prospects. I heard it on the way back from work last night as the final, almost toss-off, clip in the ESPN radio update.
See, given who Jamie is, this means some things. It means he’s done pitching after this season. He isn’t going to start a season as anything but a Mariner at this point in his career. So, why go to Philly at all? Why not play your final games for the organization in which you built your legacy?
Because the veterans of Moyer’s caliber understand and respect this game differently, both more purely and with more compromises, than fans. It is late August, he is given the chance to pitch a month and a half for a contender and get his home team, his real team, some young blood for the future. It is the right thing to do, mainly because to refuse would be the wrong thing, would cross the line to selfishness that a career team athlete just can’t accept.
Fans are going to be upset, but it happens. We’ve seen this before. When GM Bill Bavasi announced the trade, he spoke of Moyer almost as a lost legacy, as though we had to be reminded that he was once a Mariner. No, we’ll have to be reminded, some day, that he was once a Philly, much as San Francisco 49 fans will have to be reminded that Jerry Rice was once a Seahawk. Patrick Ewing ended his career here, Vince Lombardi coached the Redskins after he had achieved icon status in Green Bay, and what was the last jersey that Jordan wore anyway? Moyer will still be remembered as a Mariner.
But, there is something poignant there, regardless. Because he didn’t get to finish the perfect string. It was a shutout, but not a perfect game. He’ll always be ours, but we’ll remember how close he was to being that rare athlete that gets to stay home until the very end.
We may never again see the superstar athlete that retires from the team that drafted him. John Elway got to. Larry Bird. Magic. Better sports geeks than I could extend the list, but might be hard-pressed to name the most recent examples. We settle for players like Brett Favre, drafted by Atlanta, but 13+ years becoming a legendary Green Bay Packer, and though we’re willing to forget if they play a final season, a last few games, in another uniform, it still stings.
Moyer will be remembered as a Mariner in years to come, but we’ve all just been denied the chance to see the final tip of the hat in our stadium, in our colors.
Makes me sad.
posted by JJisafool at 9:43 AM
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