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Fading away Mariners end memorable season in forgettable fashion
Updated: Tuesday October 23, 2001 1:25 AM
NEW YORK -- Years from now, when we look back upon the magical, record-tying 116-win season of the Seattle Mariners, we will ... We will ... We will ... Ah, screw it. Who am I kidding? Years from now, we will not look back upon the magical, record-tying 116-win season of the Seattle Mariners. In all likelihood, we will not even remember that the Mariners won 116 games. We will not even remember the Mariners. This is what happens when you lose in the playoffs. When you drop Game 5 of the ALCS by, ugh, a 12-3 score. The '01 Mariners? The '01 Mariners? Was that Ichiro, A-Rod or Ed Sprague? Glenn Abbott or Paul Abbott? We've seen this one before, and the results ain't pretty. In 1906, the Chicago Cubs had a magical, record-setting, 116-win season of their own.
Boy, those Cubbies were something to behold. Frank Chance's 103 runs and .406 on-base percentage. A 1.76 team ERA, led by six -- Six! -- pitchers with double-digit victories. The Tinkers-to-Evers-to-Chance DP combo. The Cubs couldn't lose ... until they did. Chicago's groove was crushed like an apple under a sledgehammer. In six forgettable, error-laced games, they fumbled away the World Series to (of all teams) the 93-win White Sox, a club nicknamed "The Hitless Wonders" for a .230 regular season average. Like every member of the '06 Cubs, all memories concerning the team are dead. They are insignificant, in a way only Mindy Cohn and Michael Bolton can presently understand. Well, Cohn, Bolton and the Mariners. In a sense, it's sad. Following the 162nd game of their regular season, Mariners catcher Dan Wilson stood by his Safeco Field locker and pretended that -- potential World Series flop be damned -- nothing could take away the 116-win accomplishment. "No matter what, we'll always have this season as something special," he said. "We're only the second team to win 116 games. It's memorable." Nearby, manager Lou Piniella echoed similar thoughts. "There are four great teams representing the American League," he said. "Whoever reaches the Series will be deserving. And if it's not us, this was still a remarkable run."
From Piniella to Wilson, all the way down to Charles Gipson and Eddie The Clubhouse Boy, no Mariner could grasp reality: Failure was inevitable. This was a team built for the regular season. Built for spacious Safeco Field. Built for a long haul, not a short spurt. Five Seattle starters won 10-plus games, but (despite Jamie Moyer's dominant playoff run) none truly constipate an opponent, a la Randy Johnson or Roger Clemens. The Mariners scored an AL-best 927 runs with a lineup featuring one hitter, second baseman Bret Boone, with more than 30 home runs. Against the Detroits and Anaheims and Baltimores and Torontos, that's fine. You can Ichiro 'em to death, with a bit of Mark McLemore tossed in. But against the Yankees -- a team with a nuclear foursome of starters, an unhittable closer and a deep, balanced lineup -- it simply doesn't work. From a pitching standpoint, New York discovered a simple cure to any Seattle outbursts: Pitch delicately to leadoff hitter Ichiro (held to a .222 average), go aggressively at No. 2 hitter McLemore, handle Boone, Edgar Martinez and John Olerud with care, then let everyone else swing at will. Combined average of McLemore, Wilson, Mike Cameron, Tom Lampkin, Carlos Guillen, Jay Buhner and David Bell: .182. Mission accomplished. If the Mariners go on from here to win a bunch of AL West titles, they are likely to meet a similar fate as the Atlanta Braves. Clubhouse-wise, the teams are remarkably similar. In the regular season, they are credited with poise and professionalism. In the playoffs, it's called stiffness. Where's the passion? People ask. Where's the zest? Immediately after the Game 5 loss, Seattle reliever Norm Charlton sat on a sofa in a Yankee Stadium visitor's clubhouse. It was as quiet as the Hulet Public Library. He sipped from a beer, looking glum as could be. "We lost the series," Charlton said, "but I don't think they're a better team than us. I don't think there's a better team than us in baseball." Yeah. In Seattle, where a huge chunk of history can be laughably roped off under The Alvin Davis Years, 2001 will evoke warm thoughts of a nice run. It was the best Mariners team ever. It was a good time for all. Sodo Mojo. Mojo Sodo. Whatever. In the end, what counts is the end.
In the end, the 2001 Mariners don't count at all.
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