Homecoming (Beck)

A-Rod’s confession to using performance-enhancing drugs two weeks ago spawned many opinions and blogs about what this means for the game of baseball, including two on this page. It seems as if every big name in the last twenty-five years of the game is linked to steroids: Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, Jose Canseco, Rafael Palmeiro, Ken Caminiti, Miguel Tejada, Roger Clemens. Aren’t there any Hall of Fame candidates left from the Steroids Era?

It seems as if there may be one hold-out remaining, a 39-year old slugger formerly known simply as “Junior” or “the Kid,” whose 611 home runs over 19 seasons places him 5^th all-time, behind the likes of Willie Mays (660), Babe Ruth (714), Hank Aaron (755), and the perjurer himself, Barry Bonds (762). He was a 19-year old prodigy who placed 3^rd in Rookie of the Year voting behind Gregg Olson and Tom Gordon – excuse me, who? – and was the 1997 MVP. He was also a 13-time All-Star; knocked 2,680 hits; and earned 10 Gold Gloves. The best part about it, as far as I’m concerned, is that he’s done it all clean.

And now George Kenneth Griffey, Jr., has re-signed with the team that launched him to superstar status from 1989-1999, and the home of 398 of his home runs, the Seattle Mariners. It would be the perfect ending to a career that will shine far brighter than any of his counter-parts from the Steroids Era, and I know that I am not the only person in the world hoping and praying that Griffey stayed true to his word and played baseball the right way. Over the years, the only bulk that we saw accumulate on Griffey was in his belly or his ass, and over the years we’ve seen that, in accordance with all natural theories on aging, his numbers declined as he grew older.

The unfortunate part about Griffey’s career is that we’re left with the greatest question of “what if?” What if he could’ve only stayed healthy during his tenure at Cincinnati? In 2000, his first year with the Reds, he knocked in 40 home runs, 118 RBIs, and hit .271. He was also 30 years old. At the end of that season, Griffey sat at 438 career home runs, and he was averaging almost 37 home runs per year. At that pace, by the time he turned 40, he would’ve hit over 800 home runs, and we would be celebrating the best long-ball hitter in the history of the game.

The guy was my idol – Ken Griffey Jr.’s Slugfest on the N-64 is one my all-time favorite video games – and he was an idol for so many other people. The obvious catch is that, sometime or other, your idols are going to let you down. So far, Griffey’s disappointment has been his inability to finish a season without some kind of injury. From 1989-2000, Griffey only had one season cut short by injury: 1995, in which he played 72 games and only hit 17 home runs. From 2001-2008, Griffey missed an average of 50 games per season, and even when he did play, it was clear that he was not the same hitter.

The beauty of Griffey, and what I suspect was the reason he never turned to steroids, is that he had the most natural, fluid swing in the entire game, one perfect for hitting home runs. Kids playing back-yard ball imitated his swing right down to dropping the bat on the ground and taking those first, cocky steps toward first-base on their trip round the bags. The problem was that his swing was made possible by nearly perfect form, probably drilled into his head by his MLB father: George Kenneth Griffey, Sr., a member of the Big Red Machine. The power was generated with the hips and the lower body, not brute arm strength, and Griffey’s arms – and head – never grew to Hulkish proportions over the span of his career. And once the hamstring and groin injuries began nagging Griffey during his years with the Reds, it was only a matter of time before his production dropped off to the levels we witnessed.

Now nothing in this world is ever for sure, and there’s always the possibility that Griffey used some kind of illegal substance to bounce back from one of his many injuries, but I can’t for the life of me look at Griffey’s body today and say that he was dirty. His name never came up in any of Jose Canseco’s books – a feat in and of itself – or in the Mitchell Report. He never tested positive for steroids from 2004 on like A-Rod, and, like I said before, the weight he’s packed on is confined primarily to the love-handle region. It’s sad that other cheaters have passed him on their way up the charts, or, in the case of A-Rod, will be passing him in a few years, tainted numbers and all. That’s not to say that a stint in the American League wouldn’t help Griffey’s career numbers in the long-run as he platoons in left field or plays DH, a luxury not afforded to him during his time in the ‘Nati. If my perfect world, Griffey would smash 50 home runs for the next 4 years and get to the magical 800-plateau, but that just isn’t likely. 30 next year would be fine, and is a much more achievable goal.

All that matters, though, is that Griffey will one day be enshrined in Cooperstown, most likely as a Mariner, and he will have earned every single bit of it. There are a few other players from his generation that seem to have stayed clean – Manny Ramirez, Albert Pujols – but Griffey was prone to the temptation since 1989. He came into the league when steroids were already being passed around, and he hit his zenith when they were popped in clubhouses like M&M’s. Through it all, Griffey denied, and in my mind’s eye he has solidified himself as the greatest player of his generation. A-Rod and Bonds both used to cement their legacies, but now it’s bitten them in their syringe-pricked asses, while Griffey has endured the peaks and valleys and will be rewarded for it in a way that I hope A-Rod and Bonds never will. It’s sad that A-Rod couldn’t follow in the footsteps of his former-Mariner teammate and stay clean. Either way, Griffey’s athletic prowess and acrobatics playing center-field, paving the way for imitators such as Kenny Lofton and Torii Hunter, combined with his pure swing is 100% him, and that’s all we can ever ask for from our athletes. Best of luck this season playing in “The House That Griffey Built,” and don’t you dare start using now.

- Beck