Randy Johnson rift touches issue deep in Mariners’ soul

Same as it ever was, same as it ever was.

The discourse is the same this time of year. The Mariners experience their early-summer lull and blame has to go somewhere.

Is it Jerry Dipoto and the front office’s fault for the 2025 club’s misfortunes? Or is it John Stanton, Chris Larson and an ownership group that doesn’t care enough about a championship?

Everyone picks their side. You can have both if you want. But definitely not neither.

I don’t blame anyone for taking either side. Folks are frustrated and understandably so.

When things go bad with the Mariners, it’s always funny how there’s at least one subplot where things are also going incredibly bad. Well, perhaps not incredibly bad—but at least comically bad.

There was one this week, indeed a humorous one, that hints at the fact that no matter what the Mariners do with their Baseball Operations group, there’s something in their DNA that, unless changed, will continue to doom them.

Enter Randy Johnson. And a mascot version of Randy Johnson. And Rick Rizzs.

If you missed it, The Big Unit joined the two Mariner broadcast booths during the middle game down in Phoenix, starting with the TV side.

Danny O’Neil has the full transcript of that, but here’s the toughest quote.

I think if they were expecting me to go in as a Seattle Mariner—in the Hall of Fame—then why didn’t Howard Lincoln circle back at some point when I retired to make me feel like my 10 years of contribution there—especially in 1995 when I won the Cy Young, 18-2, in the most important year to this point right now—I just felt like under his leadership I felt the 10 years of my contribution were kind of swept under the carpet.

He even grabbed a screenshot of what it looked like in the broadcast booth as this was taking place. (Credit to him. Danny, holler if this is in poor taste.)

Too good.

A buddy of mine shot me Aaron’s hysterical riff from after the break, as the ROOT broadcast showed Johnson then with the Rick and Gary on the radio side.

Randy, on the radio side, kept the chin music bumping. Credit to Coastal Cards on Twitter for clipping and Danny, again, for transcribing and sharing.

Well, John Stanton and Kevin (Martinez) have been working on this for a while. I was a little hesitant because I even felt like it has taken a long time, and I never had any answers why it didn’t happen sooner with Howard Lincoln. I think the misconception is I left there. Well, no, I got traded. Big difference. I didn’t leave. I wasn’t a free agent. I got traded. And I don’t even why I was traded. The year before in ‘97, I was 20-4, finished second in the Cy Young. If there was any thought that I was old and broken down, then that should have—the next year ‘98, when they traded—’97 should have solidified why I was healthy.

There are a lot of people probably wondering what the hell was going on there.

Most folks, even people like myself who didn’t become Mariners fans until after Johnson’s tenure, know the separation was acrimonious. If you’re deep enough in the lore, you may also have heard allegations of sandbagging in the first half of the 1998 season.

This tension though, the eventual animosity, starts with what Johnson alludes to above—his health and the back injury during the 1996 season.

Randy Johnson’s 1995 was the greatest pitcher season in Seattle Mariners history.

He posted 9.5 fWAR across 214.1 innings, his final ten starts being his magnum opus and a big reason why that season is remembered as it is: 10 GS, 10 QS, 2 CG, 7-0, 74.7 IP, 44 H, 12 R, 4 HR, 24 BB, 99 K.

A painful 1996 for The Big Unit

Whether his 1995 cost him 1996 is worthy of debate—but whether or not he really had a 1996 is not.

He struggled out of the gate and hit the Injured List in May.

“I can’t help the team in this much pain,” he said about the bulging disc in his back, which caused shooting pain down his right leg occasional cramps.

Johnson wasn’t done pitching in discomfort, though. Not for those 1996 Mariners.

(We’re going to dip deep into the Seattle Times archives now and I’ll link to stuff that’s walled off—but I’ll snag the key quotes and you can get to the full articles by logging in with your Seattle Public Library Card. Shout out to public goods. Thanks to a buddy for the heads up on that.)

Johnson wouldn’t return until August. And unless you know, you will not believe the role in which he rejoined the club.

August 6, 1996—Bob Finnigan with some beautiful ballwriting:

For one thunderous moment in the sixth inning, it was October again for the Seattle Mariners and 31,472 delirious fans. Not only were the Cleveland Indians the opposition, but Randy Johnson was back on the Kingdome mound for the first time in nearly three months.

To the roar of the crowd and the pounding of Guns N' Roses from the speakers on high, Johnson walked slowly from the bullpen (and the disabled list), bringing with him a touch of the magical march to and through the '95 postseason.

Yeah, man.

The drama began early in the day when the long left-hander walked into Manager Lou Piniella's office and said he'd prefer to prepare for his return to the rotation, not as planned with minor-league starts, but out of the major-league bullpen.

"Why not?" Piniella responded. "He's feeling much better and it feels good to get him back on the team."

Johnson would make five more relief appearances, ones that’d answer Sweet Lou’s question.

A 2.2 inning appearance in Boston was the last as he allowed four runs on three hits—including his first home run surrendered to a lefty since 1992.

From the Times again, after it was determined if Randy did pitch again in 1996, it wouldn’t be out of the bullpen:

"It didn't work," Piniella said. "It didn't help Randy, and it didn't help our bullpen. There was too much wear and tear on him, getting up and sitting down, and we were short in the bullpen in the process.

"In retrospect, we never should have let him talk us into pitching in relief."

From the same article, an encapsulation of a crack forming between Johnson and the organization—Piniella wanted Johnson to start the past couple of weeks, but Johnson declined.

"It's not as if he refused," Piniella said. "I never had him penciled in. He told me he wasn't ready to start, and we abided by that. Randy is moody at times, but he gives you what he's got."

Piniella wanted Johnson to start; Johnson wanted to stay in the bullpen until he was able to pitch longer than four innings.

Johnson wouldn't explain himself, but it was clear he feared for his future as a pitcher. The fear is understandable.

Shortly after this, the doctors, organization and Johnson decided he wouldn’t pitch at all, opting for surgery on his ailing back.

Though he was too frustrated to speak at the time the surgery was announced, he shared this during his first media appearance at Spring Training in 1997:

“As the No. 1 pitcher, everyone looked to me to be there when the team needed me," he said. "I tried. I tried to go back and throw 95 miles an hour when I couldn't. It was the worst decision of my career.”

The real drama hits in 1997

The slow build following back surgery prevented the lanky left-hander from making his sixth consecutive Opening Day start and delayed the beginning of his 1997 campaign—but not by much.

He was back on the mound by April 6th, facing Boston again.

“I didn't throw too bad,” he said at the time. “Every time out I have a little discomfort. Every fifth day will be something new.”

Back in Spring Training, he’d vowed to fight like hell to return to his 1995 form—and it didn’t take too long to get there, or at least close.

Johnson’s 1997 tied his 1993 for the second-best pitcher season in Mariners history, behind only that monster 1995 campaign. He went 20-4 with a 2.28 ERA and notched 7.0 fWAR as he struck out 291 batters over 213 innings pitched.

Despite his back, he was back.

In the middle of that 1997 season, he wondered aloud why the Mariners didn’t see it the same way and pick up his $6 million club option for the following year.

Now, I’ll be honest, I don’t know the details exactly but I’m left with the impression teams would, back then, sometimes pick up options for players before the offseason preceding the year the option covered.

Because as early as July, Randy was pissed. Or close to it.

“The only thing that bothers me is that the Mariners seem to be waiting for me to fall apart," he said on the day the American League named him Pitcher of the Month. "I don't see why they haven't renewed my option yet.”

A smile quickly trickled across his lips. "I'm only joking," he said.

But then his eyes darkened, and it didn't look like he was joking. […]

"You know, fans talk about loyalty. Where's (the Mariners) loyalty?" he said. "I pitched hurt. I put in a lot of hard work and dedication on coming back. I pitched out of the bullpen in the post-season. I've done everything I could."

The Mariners would pick up his option for 1998 a few months later, in September. But as we’ll see, it was a major source of contention going forward—and contention that would get a lot worse very quickly.

The off-the-rails offseason

While the entire thesis of this post is “Man, they’ve just always been this way, huh?”, it is never underscored more than in the following event.

Now, I’m going to start with with some clips from the column reacting to the event before actual quotes from the parties involved.

It is November 14, 1997.

On the same day that Ken Griffey Jr. collected his well-deserved American League Most Valuable Player award, the geniuses in Mariner management spit in the party punch bowl. They told pitcher Randy Johnson, the club's other world-class player, to take a hike

The Johnson fiasco is another in a series of events that suggest a haughty attitude toward the ticket-buying public.

That’s right. On the very night Junior got his AL MVP, the biggest Mariners news was that they’d begin exploring a trade for Randy Johnson.

"We have concluded that we are unable to offer Randy an extension of his contract beyond 1998," Mariner President Chuck Armstrong said last night. "Therefore, our general manager, Woody Woodward, is free to entertain trade offers for him."

It’s wild how familiar it all is. The same emotions, the same at-arm’s-length relationship between this organization and its fans—all this almost 30 years ago, as the team struggled then as it does now, with taking the step from fringe contention to championship calibre.

Back to the column.

Eleven months ago, Mariner CEO John Ellis pulled the rug out from under the community by threatening the team would bolt unless numerous demands were met on the new stadium - a ballpark being built with a lot of public money.

Last summer, Mariner management couldn't resist a greedy ploy proferred by the titans of baseball, radical realignment. Tradition and fan sentiments be damned, team owners favored a move to the National League, because it would shorten plane rides for players and bring in additional TV revenue.

The plan never materialized but the Mariners were ready to use the cold language of baseball to tell designated hitter Edgar Martinez, American League two-time batting champ, "Thanks for the memories." (With an aside to fans, "It's good for you, you'll get used to it.") […]

Recently, the team revealed a budget-busting pricing system for seats in the new ballpark. Some will be among the most expensive in the country. What's the plan here, fellas, first-class team or just first-class ticket prices?

It’s good for you, you’ll get used to it.

What’s the plan here, fellas?

It’s amazing how much quick access to old newspaper clips will blow your hair back.

Johnson offered his retort a week later:

"I think the question the Mariners have to ask is: Are they closer to a World Series with me or without me?" Johnson said.

"Obviously, they made their decision. They aren't interested in offering me a contract past next year and that's the story.

"But I think any team that's going to get me is a team that's been to the World Series and wants to get back there quickly."

He continues:

"I do feel a little betrayed. I feel like I've given my best years to date to the Mariners. I helped them save baseball in Seattle. I was one of 25 guys that kept baseball alive in Seattle. I think if this trade talk had come two years ago, when they were trying to get a new stadium, it would have been real interesting to see what would have happened. […]

"Who cares that I'm 34? Does that mean I'm not worthy of the Mariners giving me a two-year extension? I'll be 37 when that extension is over with. Does that mean I'll lose 10 miles an hour off my fastball? I don't think so.

"People are worried about my back? Hell, I just had the best year of my career. If anything, my back is stronger than it's ever been. I feel like I'm as healthy, if not healthier than I've ever been in my career. My back feels fine, and the finger that bothered me late in the year feels fine. I'm already starting to get tunnel vision on spring training."

Whewwwwww, that hit on the stadium. It would have been real interesting to see what would have happened had this drama taken place earlier.

Finally, he references another ugly Seattle sports divorce.

"I guess what I resent is the implication that I would be like (former Sonic) Shawn Kemp if I stayed. I want people to know that I would be more than willing to stay in Seattle this year and pitch for $6 million and I wouldn't dog it. This isn't a Shawn Kemp situation. I'm not prepared to sit out next year just because I'm only going to make $6 million.

"I don't want people to think that. If I'm going to leave Seattle, I want to do it on a good note. Shawn Kemp didn't leave on a good note."

Wait—dog it? Who said anything about dogging it? Kemp sat out training camp his last year but he didn’t dog it.

The first time I read that part, I chuckled. Because the depth of my knowledge on this situation only reached the allegations of Johnson not giving it his all to start 1998.

They’re, uh, not unwarranted allegations. But even if he did, it’d be hard to blame Randy.

The end

It’s quite wild Johnson didn’t actually get traded during that pre-1998 offseason.

He went into camp very much wanting it to happen, too.

One day there, a woman was wearing a T-shirt that said “Keep Randy, Fire Woody.” alluding to the then-GM Woody Woodward.

"Someone take a picture of that lady's shirt," Johnson said with a wry smile. "The fans have been very supportive. They are one of the things that have kept me sane through all of this.

"But as far as keeping Randy goes, it's too late. I don't want to be here . . . I'm just not happy."[…]

"If I'm still here, I'll bust my butt," he said. "But ideally, I have to be a positive person when the season starts. I want to be a part of a team's success. But ideally, I'd prefer it to be another team." […]

Johnson said he has tried to stay optimistic. "But recently reality has overtaken my optimism and it has gotten very difficult for me," he said.

Yeahhhhh. He’s saying what he’s going to do by saying what he’s going to try not to do.

Whether intentional or not, the early part of 1998 did not go well with him carrying the whole ordeal around on his surgically-repaired back.

Through his first ten starts, the strikeouts were there but the overall results were not. He was walking 4.5 per nine and posted a 6.83 ERA over that stretch.

It was clear to anyone watching that something wasn’t right.

The long shadow he cast over the league is fading with each start. This time was a horrific three innings of the 10-4 drubbing by Texas last night. […]

"I'm concerned," Manager Lou Piniella said. "I hate to see a pitcher who's had the success Randy has struggle like he is.

It hurts me."

Johnson looked out of it, to the point of not knowing he had gotten the third out in the second inning. As teammates headed for the dug-out, the pitcher was going back to the mound. […]

"Randy looked like he was in a fog out there," said Piniella, who intended to talk with Johnson before tonight's game. "He's giving up hits to guys who never even got a sniff off him before."

His agent, Barry Meister, weighed in on his client’s mental state:

"If it's affected by anything," Meister said from his home in Chicago, "it's probably by the treatment he has gotten from the ballclub."

The potential for a trade hung over Randy and the club every day until it happened.

Jay Buhner, later in May:

"No question it's a distraction," said outfielder Buhner, who might return from the disabled list in a week. "You know Randy is leaving. You try to shut it out, but you're human and you can't. […]

"Loyalty, man," the outfielder said. "I get tired of hearing it put on the players. It counts for the teams, too. In this case, I don't know how loyal the Mariners have been." […]

"If the Mariners had just offered him Roger Clemens money ($8 million to $9 million), I know Randy would have taken it," Buhner said. "I know he would."

Randy Johnson was traded to the Houston Astros on July 31, 1998 for Freddy Garcia, Carlos Guillen and a player to be named later (who ended up being John Halama).

"People in Houston," said Jay Buhner, who is from Houston, "must be wondering, `What's in that coffee you all drink up there?' "

Ken Griffey Jr. predicted that if the Big Unit was worth three kids with no reputations then, "They would get a bag of balls if they traded me."

"I was ordered not to say anything," Griffey said, not saying if he meant it came from Seattle management. "I'm under a gag order . . . in a roundabout way."

The actually Mariners did well in the trade.

They didn’t really think so at the time, but the years ahead would bear that out, that if they were going to trade Johnson, they could’ve done worse than a few players who were core contributors to a few of the franchise’s best years ever.

His final line with the 1998 Mariners: 9-10, 4.33 ERA, 160 IP, 4.3 fWAR.

When you’re not at your best, but still one of the greatest pitchers of all time, that’s about what it’ll look like.

ERA is also a misleading bitch.

By fWAR, his 1998 with the Mariners alone would be in the top 30 pitcher seasons in franchise history, just a little worse than George Kirby’s 2023 and a little better than his 2024.

The Mariners’ top baseball exec, after the trade, on those final four months:

"Yes, I was disappointed," General Manager Woody Woodward said.

"I would have thought he would have kicked it into gear in his free-agent season."

Did Johnson “kick it into gear” after that? Maybe a little. The old school baseball stats tell a more drastic story than probably actually took place.

Johnson went 10-1 with the Astros and posted a 2.04 ERA. Strikeouts went up slightly and walks went down slightly. He posted 3.3 fWAR over 84.1 innings and finished 7th in the National League Cy Young Award voting.

The Astros won the NL Central but lost in the NLDS to the San Diego Padres.

The epilogue

Randy Johnson and his agent had long set out to get “Greg Maddux money”—they succeeded in that and then some.

Johnson signed with the Arizona Diamondbacks for four years and $53 million, good for a $13.25 million AAV. The DBacks, having only existed for a single season, beat the AAV Maddux received in August of 1997, which was $11.5 million a year over five seasons.

"I think there was always an interest in his part and a tug in his heart relative to playing at home," [then-Diamondbacks owner Jerry Colangelo] said today. "The big question was how soon could we become competitive as compared to all of these teams because of his fierce competitiveness and desire to win." […]

"For us, it's obvious there are family issues, and he's pleased to spend his life in the Valley for hopefully the rest of his baseball life," said Johnson's agent, Barry Meister. "But also from the top, we have a commitment that the Diamondbacks are going to do what it takes to get to the World Series, and we believe that."

That 1998-1999 offseason for the Mariners went about the same as offseasons go now.

Anticipating a winter of selective spending, which has become a Mariner norm, Jay Buhner tore into General Manager Woody Woodward and the Seattle baseball operation. At one point Buhner said, "If they're not going to go all out to $65 million, then why don't they cut back to $45 million and make some money?"

"I don't want to get into a disagreement with Jay," Armstrong said, "but what is $65 million going to bring you that you can't get at $54 million or $55 million? This winter, not much. What other moves might we have made?" […]

"We will field a competitive team, although I hesitate to say that automatically means a competitive payroll. I don't think it's fair to say you have to be in the top eight in payroll to make the postseason." […]

Armstrong said he understands why players speak out about wanting to field a team of all-stars, for the confidence and comfort level it produces entering a season.

"But they know that does not necessarily equate to winning," he said.

The Mariners missed the Postseason in 1999 and traded Junior the following fall.

They made the playoffs in 2000 as a Wild Card and won 116 games and the division in 2001.

I’m sure, as that 2001 club ripped off win after win after win after win to go a staggering 70 games over .500, there were a lot of people at Safeco Field who felt like the smartest people in the world. Or, at least, the smartest people in baseball.

From Howard Lincoln to Chuck Armstrong to Chris Larson, who still owns as much as a third of the club today after buying in with the Nintendo group in 1992, they were probably laughing all the way to the bank as they won big and packed their new taxpayer-funded ballpark despite losing three of the greatest players the game has ever seen in consecutive seasons. John Stanton even got in on the fun, joining up in 2000.

It’s easy to separate this era in Mariners baseball from that one and others and so on—but there’s a common current that runs deep, especially starting with the crew of minority owners that began forming with Larson in 1992.

It’s a lot of the same guys, a lot of the same mentality.

The retort is easy.

Well, knowing what we knew then, of course you move on from the 34-year-old pitcher with a semi-recent back injury. They won a lot without him, and maybe could’ve won it all.

They didn’t, though.

They won a lot of games—but they haven’t won the American League West since they tallied those 116 dubs.

Randy Johnson left the Mariners and immediately won back-to-back-to-back-to-back National League Cy Young Awards. Yeah man, four straight.

Led the NL in strikeouts those years, too.

The Mariners didn’t win a title in 2001—Randy Johnson did. He won the World Series MVP, too.

Hindsight is hindsight—but it’s also reality. If things were different, they’d be different.

But they’re not, so go ahead and talk your shit, Randy.

Meanwhile, this may be the type of season that leads to significant changes with the Seattle Mariners.

It’s early, it may not.

But if it does, it’s fair to wonder—if not doubt—the changes will be big enough to alter the DNA of an organization whose lack of commitment to winning a World Series has led to, shockingly, them never so much as appearing in one.

Go M’s.