Mariners’ clinch celebration a magical moment for Seattle players, fans alike

By Jordan Shusterman
FOX Sports MLB Writer

When the ball off the bat of Mariners catcher Cal Raleigh clanged off the windows of the Hit It Here Cafe in right field, I did what I assume the other 44,000-plus Mariners fans at the ballpark and thousands more across the country did. 

I gasped. I screamed. I looked around in disbelief. I watched in complete shock and awe as the entire Mariners roster and coaching staff performed their customary post-victory dance to celebrate.

As the on-field festivities gradually died down, I began to process what I had just witnessed: my favorite team hitting a pinch-hit, walk-off home run to end a 21-year postseason drought. And I was there!

Even the day before, I couldn’t have dreamed that something like this was possible. At the end of August, with a Mariners postseason appearance looking increasingly likely, I called my shot and booked flights to Seattle hoping to see a postseason clinch. That hope required some exquisite sequencing and timing, but I was content knowing I’d be thrilled to be cheering on my favorite team in their home park no matter the context.

As such, when I arrived in Seattle on Thursday, I was ecstatic that I was almost guaranteed to see a clinch in some form. But even as the M’s playoff odds had soared to 99% over the past month, it was difficult to fathom what it would feel like to see them secure a postseason spot — let alone just how it would ultimately happen.

Oddly enough, the person with arguably the most potential impact on the situation was standing on a mound 2,400 miles away. With a magic number of one, the Mariners could clinch a postseason spot with either a win or an Orioles loss, and the Orioles were in the Bronx taking on the Yankees in a game that started nearly three hours before the Mariners took the field against Oakland. 

Veteran Orioles right-hander Jordan Lyles was tasked with keeping Aaron Judge in the yard and the Orioles’ ever-so slim postseason hopes alive, and he delivered seven strong innings in a 2-1 victory. And so, rather than learning the postseason drought was over by looking at their phones in the second inning Friday, the crowd at T-Mobile Park was afforded the opportunity to see the Mariners clinch in far more fitting fashion: with a victory.

When Ty France smacked an RBI double in the bottom of the first, the evening ahead started to crystallize — or so I thought. I assumed the offense would cruise against A’s rookie lefty Ken Waldichuk, and we’d be counting down the outs to the clinch. Instead, the A’s tied it in the top of the second, and both offenses went silent after that. 

For the next six innings, it was nothin’ doin’ for either side. Waldichuk settled in. Mariners starter Logan Gilbert was excellent. Suddenly, it was the ninth inning, still tied 1-1. When rookie reliever Matt Brash struck out Jordan Diaz with a gnarly slider to end the top of the ninth, the crowd roared — and reality started to set in: The Mariners could end the drought with a walk-off.

Queen’s “We Will Rock You” blared as the stadium prepared for mayhem. A tie game going into the bottom of the ninth is almost always an intense environment, but this was elevated to an extreme degree. A possible storybook ending had arrived on a silver platter. One run to end the drought. That’s all it would take.

At this point, looking around at the sold-out crowd felt like some sort of fever dream. It also felt like the game had to end with a homer. And that was reflected in the aggressive hacks from Haniger and Santana, who went down swinging against hard-throwing A’s reliever Domingo Acevedo.

When Raleigh strolled to the plate as a pinch-hitter, it was clear he had the same goal: End this thing with one swing. And can you blame him? In these scenarios, no one fantasizes about poking a ball the other way for a base hit. It’s always about hitting a dinger!

Well, seven pitches later, on a 3-2 slider just below the zone, Raleigh launched a long ball for the ages. The drought was over. 

An entire fan base could finally exhale — well, after they (we) were finished screaming, of course.

The truth is, I don’t even know the half of it. You see, I’ve been a Mariners fan for only a little more than a decade. Growing up outside Washington, D.C., there was no local team for me to grow attached to at an early age. The Nationals arrived when I was 10, but their early struggles failed to make baseball much of a priority for me. Bryce Harper‘s arrival helped fuel my love for the sport, but it wasn’t enough to make me a fan of the team as a whole. 

Instead, I grew infatuated with a contagiously electric pitcher on the other side of the country named Felix Hernandez, who had recently won his first Cy Young Award. I loved staying up late to watch West Coast games and tried to never miss a Felix start. Eventually, I found myself drawn to the Mariners more broadly, despite their severe lack of talent surrounding Felix. 

Then, on Aug. 15, 2012, King Felix threw the 23rd perfect game in MLB history. That just about sealed it: I was a Mariners fan, for better or for worse.

Beyond Felix, though, the Mariners fan community online, in which I was slowly embedding myself, seemed to make a habit of celebrating a wide swath of the roster, no matter the team’s record. Seattle’s geographic isolation relative to the rest of the baseball (and sports) landscape seemed to amplify its communal protectiveness of and appreciation for its players. Even though I was thousands of miles away and had never been to the city in my life, I was charmed.

Fast-forward a decade, and last weekend, I got to experience the city showing love to its ballclub in the most exciting context imaginable: on the verge of a postseason berth at last. I had been lucky enough to sit in the King’s Court for a Felix start in 2015, but I hadn’t been back to the Pacific Northwest since.

In addition to the excitement surrounding the playoff push, I was there for Fan Appreciation Weekend. While much of the programming during the games was focused on celebrating the fans in the seats, it seemed like the fans wanted to express their appreciation for those on the field as much as possible, too.

It helps that the 2022 Mariners seemingly have someone for every kind of fan to cheer for. There’s Julio Rodriguez, the new face of the franchise, who has his own cheering section in center field (The J-Rod Squad) the way Felix once did down the left-field line. You have Marco Gonzales, JP Crawford and Mitch Haniger, the familiar faces who have carried the weight of the drought the longest.

Robbie Ray and Luis Castillo are high-profile pitchers who have bolstered the rotation in a big way. There’s the highly effective bullpen filled with prolific flamethrowers and journeyman deception artists. Let’s not forget Carlos Santana and Eugenio Suarez, the veterans who have come up unbelievably clutch time and time again all summer.

Dylan Moore and Sam Haggerty are the quintessential utilitymen and agents of chaos on the basepaths. There’s Jarred Kelenic, the uber-talented prospect who has struggled immensely but has also started to figure things out right when the team has needed him most. Even Brian O’Keefe — a 29-year-old catcher called up to make his MLB debut when Curt Casali went on the paternity list — got an enormous ovation for his first career hit Saturday:

And let’s not forget the lanky right-hander with an alter ego named Walter and the beefy catcher affectionately known as Big Dumper, who changed Mariners history forever. From my seat in the stands, it was clear how much each and every member of the roster means to the city. The people of Seattle didn’t just want a return to the playoffs for themselves; they also wanted it for their players, who worked so hard to accomplish what the 20 teams before them failed to do.

I always tell people who (fairly) assume Ken Griffey Jr. and Ichiro sparked my M’s fandom: Of course I love those guys — how could I not? — but they aren’t the ones who drew me in. King Felix won me over, and then many others who followed kept me invested, from franchise staples such as Hisashi Iwakuma, Kyle Seager and Nelson Cruz to less-heralded but still lovable guys such as Franklin Gutierrez and Mike Zunino. It saddens me that those players never reached this special moment, but their contributions to my fandom and the team cannot be understated.

Throughout this weekend, I kept thinking about the lifelong fans who hold significant emotional attachment to the likes of Ichiro, Griffey, Edgar Martinez, Jay Buhner, Alvin Davis, iconic broadcaster Dave Niehaus and so many other Mariners of yesteryear, from the miserable lows of the ‘80s to the 116-win squad in 2001. Sure, I’ve committed thousands of hours of my life over the past decade to staying up late to watch a team on the other side of the country repeatedly come up short, and it felt amazing to have that dedication pay off Friday night.

But I also know that what I’m feeling pales in comparison to the emotions of those who endured the entirety of the drought and whose connections to the team and its history stretch back decades further. And for those folks, many of whom I was lucky enough to meet and spend time with during my four days in and around T-Mobile Park, I couldn’t be happier.

This long, arduous chapter of Mariners baseball is over. With one swing, Raleigh emphatically slammed the book closed and finally eliminated the word “drought” from the fan base’s vernacular.

But beyond the relief of that moment, there’s considerable reason to be excited about what happens next. Because unlike the handful of teams over the past decade (2014, 2016, 2018, 2021) that sniffed the postseason but came up short with rosters that were lopsided and wholly unsustainable, this is a group with an excellent foundation for future success.

No matter what happens this postseason, the Mariners are here to stay. The roster will likely see some turnover this winter — Jerry Dipoto is the GM, after all — but there’s a strong core in place, and postseason pushes should become the expectation, not a pipe dream. 

“When Jerry and I came here seven years ago, we had a goal,” manager Scott Servais said during his speech to the crowd after the game. “We needed to end the f—ing drought.” 

Then he continued: “Yes, we’ve ended the drought. But this team’s just starting.”

Jordan Shusterman is half of @CespedesBBQ and a baseball writer for FOX Sports. Follow him on Twitter @j_shusterman_.