Enjoy the enjoyment
And be where your feet are.
You know what are crazy? Dreams. We don’t know why we dream. Seriously, we don’t know. And I don’t mean there isn’t clear consensus. We have no idea. There are numerous rough theories, at best.
One of them goes, according to a Nova or something I saw in a crummy apartment in Missoula more than a decade ago, is that they help prepare you for the future. That seems to check out. They even tested it with people playing that old skiing arcade video game with the full-pledged plastic planks and poles. Scientific stuff.
I’ve had dreams eerily and randomly predict the future. That’s a story for a different time, but maybe you have, too. It’s a whole thing, precognition.
Anyway, I’ve been having this dream lately—it’s similar to those not-the-same-but-still-repetitive dreams about being in college and signing up for a class and forgetting to go all semester or still needing to take one more test you didn’t study for or have a 15-page paper that’s three weeks overdue.
Instead, it’s the Mariners. I’m either at, watching or tracking a close game in September. The M’s are a game or two out and they gotta have this one. I’m anxious. I am livid.
I don’t know if it’s my brain predicting the future, preparing me for it or randomly firing electricity through its dense folds and goo, but I do know one thing—surely this is healthy as hell. Totally normal. No question.
I worry a lot about this baseball team. I worry a lot in general. Too much.
There’s always something to worry about.
The title of this post, a line from a baseball-loving friend of mine, is something like the antithesis to that. The subhead is a cringe little ditty that’s bouncing around the zeitgeist right now, but one I find helpful.
It combines the figurative and metaphysical with the literal, something you can feel. Be here, where your feet are.
I cannot wait to feel my feet on the cold concrete of the ballpark stands. Before that, I cannot wait to feel my feet push down on the pedals of my bike as the roofline comes into view on the tail end of my wife and mine’s ride in this afternoon.
I want to feel my feet under a curtain call. Under an enormous AB in the eighth inning, when the whole building is roaring. Under the instant reaction to a Julio no-doubter.
The first time I wrote one of these Opening Day posts was ten years ago, for the immortal (in my view) 2014 club. Even by looking only at the headline of that one, you’ll see not much has changed in how I view the game of baseball.
But it is wild how much life can change in ten years.
I’m married now, have my own house. Three of my four younger siblings are married, too. My two sisters are due with the first of the next generation of us a mere week apart in May. I spent four seasons working for the M’s and met friends I will have forever. I lost my Mom.
When she passed in January of 2020, she had the longest Opening Day streak in our family of seven. Her family of seven. As kids went to college, as a business trip pulled my Dad away from one or two, she was at every one—ripping off 20 Opening Days in a row starting when we moved out to the Seattle area before the 2000 season.
I’ve mentioned this before, that when you’re in calm waters, you have to appreciate it. You also have to appreciate—or, more-so, enjoy—the people you’re with. Be where your feet are, especially if your feet are next to someone you get a big kick out of.
Or standing watching them.
In the 24-hour lead-up to Opening Day, I’ve been consuming every piece of Mariners content I can find, refreshing my Mariners/Seattle Twitter list constantly.
There’s been a lot of good stuff but this one from Boy Howdy lodged itself on one of those folds in my brain.
I love the Seattle Mariners and will likely always love the Seattle Mariners—but I really like this year’s ball club. These dudes rock and, as I mentioned on Twitter, I cannot wait to ride or die with them over the next six months.
In this increasingly digital and impersonal world, it’s important to remember we’re all people out here. And the people on this roster are so damn fun.
We have Julio. We will always have Julio. But we’re also just at the start of having Julio. The Mariners haven’t had an icon like this since Junior. This young, this charismatic, this…everything you could ever want in a franchise player.
He could go on to have a Hall of Fame career, to be the greatest Seattle Mariner of all time. He may be the face of baseball by July.
But you have to enjoy the journey. You have to savor every moment. Like standing in the upper deck during the first round of the Home Run Derby last year, cackling in disbelief, you enjoy the enjoyment.
We will have moments to live in for a lifetime.
This pitching staff is hilarious. First pitch on Opening Day will probably be a sinking 97mph fastball from Luís Castillo that’s heavier than a slab of marble. He leads a staff that may as well be carved from one.
The perfectionist, the quiet Kobe-esque competitor in the body of a 20-something finance bro—George Kirby is such a great #2. Logan, gruff-looking and lanky, kinda gross hair, what a #3. Bryce Miller is practically a caricature of the young redass pitcher, and I can’t wait to see the impact of this new splitter. This team will miss Bryan Woo, but also enjoy his brilliance. It’s so funny the next guy up is, ohhhh, just a former sixth overall pick who’s looked as good as he has since joining the organization.
I first met Cal Raleigh before a Yusei Kikuchi live BP at 2019 Spring Training. He seemed surprised when, sitting in one of those dugouts on the backfields in Peoria, I said something dorky like “You had a great year in Everett last year, dude,” almost surprised someone would notice.
A switch-hitting catcher with pop who can handle the hell out of a pitching staff? Yeah man, people are going to notice. Not enough, apparently, but here in Seattle—he is beloved. If you slapped the “C” on his chest, it’d be understandable.
But it speaks to how many truly cherished Mariners there are that you can see multiple guys who could serve as Cap.
That, of course, brings us to J.P. Crawford. Going into last year, we knew what J.P. was and we knew what he wasn’t. Or so we thought. A 134 wRC+ and 4.9 fWAR? Alright, J.P. Alright. He worked, because he always works—and he transformed himself into a first-flight shortstop.
These new guys, too?
I love the idea of Jorge Polanco, mostly because the idea is all I’ve experienced thus far. But the Mariners are more fun when they have a lively Dominican dude with pop in their middle infield. He swings from his ass and hits the crap out of the ball. A switch-hitter, too? Cool as hell.
Mitch Garver is Mitch Garver—just a regular-dude who can and will quietly rake. He will be a foundational piece in this lineup and I think fans will grow to love him.
That brings us to the guy who is both new and old. There’s a reason so many previews and Opening Day pieces center on Mitch Haniger. What a story and, potentially, what a player. I wrote it in my own piece on him—finally, it means something to be a Seattle Mariner, and that is due in part to Mitch Haniger.
The amount that I want to enjoy a Hanny Opening Day bomb and ensuing curtain call cannot possibly be expressed. Bring it to me. It would be the Mariners version what you’d see sitting on the wood bleachers at the Kinsellas’ farm.
I’m not going to hit on every player because we’ll have plenty of time for that. Luís Urias will come up in a big spot, I’ll be annoyed, and he’ll get a knock. Dominic Canzone will bang a baseball or three off the café windows. Muñoz will be Muñoz and Brash will be Brash.
There will be heartbreak and frustration, too, because there always will be. That is life.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how March and April baseball normally plays out, when every win or loss is either an indictment or endorsement of the last eight years of Mariners baseball, if not more.
I can’t say I won’t partake. I will.
But I do want to be more mindful, I want to be where my feet are and I want to enjoy the enjoyment.
Because I think there’s going to be a lot to enjoy.
While I talk about how fun and enjoyable this team will be, I say that because they should be good. And they could be special.
After offseasons past when division rivals went out and strapped up—and were rewarded as a result—the Texas twosome was mostly quiet this winter, leaving the American League West there for the taking.
But it will need actual taking. You don’t fall back asswards into a hanging a banner.
I join the crowd in very much enjoying what Jerry Dipoto, Justin Hollander and their Baseball Ops group did this offseason. I wish they had more of an allowance to work with, but they stretched it as creatively and as well as any organization could.
Still, the biggest part of the Mariners’ advancement depends on a lot of guys already here continuing to get a little bit better. And they can do it.
I loved that, on MLB Network’s stop in town, Cal was quick to point to the young guys in the rotation—saying something with an undertone of “Hey, you saw the steps forward Logan and George took forward the last couple years…now watch how good we can be when Bryce and Bryan do it.”
Take that idea and apply it to every young player on the roster.
This team can be very good. They can be great.
We will find out. But in the process of doing so, we can’t overlook the moment. We can’t forget to enjoy the enjoyment, to—using my own mantra here—live while we’re livin’.
I’m going to close out this piece with the title of that first Opening Day piece a decade ago.
Let’s have fun.
94-68. First American League Division title in 23 years.
Go M’s.
I will add, as a poscscript, thank you to everyone who has subscribed to The View Level—and a special thanks to our paid subscribers. You keep me going, you keep me blogging, and blogging about the M’s is a lot of fun. I also appreciate the High Lifes. 🍻