SEATTLE — The last game of a season isn’t a lot different for a baseball team than the end of a school year.
Lots of guys are eager to get home to their families, but there also are feelings of melancholy (how often is that word used in a clubhouse?) after players and coaches had spent nearly every day of the past eight months with each other.
That’s why there were so many hugs and handshakes in the Mariners’ clubhouse late this afternoon, even after something that has been so painfully repetitive — a 4-3 loss to the Oakland A’s, the Mariners’ 101st defeat – that the season couldn’t end soon enough.
Many of these guys won’t see each other until next February, and some won’t see each other in the same uniform again. That’s the game, especially after a season that is bound to result in changes.
The Mariners go into the offseason looking for a manager, perhaps their seventh in a 10-year span if Daren Brown isn’t retained, and some well-known players may not be back. Third baseman Jose Lopez, pitcher Ryan Rowland-Smith and closer David Aardsma could have spent their final day in their Mariners uniforms as the team looks in other directions for various reasons.
Then there are the coaches, especially the ones who remained after Don Wakamatsu and three members of his staff were fired. Third-base coach Lee Tinsley, first-base coach Mike Brumley, hitting coach Alonzo Powell and bullpen coach John Wetteland remained through the end of the season, but a new manager may choose to have an entirely new staff.
That could be the reason we saw something remarkable in the two hours after today’s final game.
Wetteland, a passionate man who has formed a close bond not only with the relief pitchers but also with Mariners fans, seemed like he didn’t want to get out of his uniform. He made his rounds saying good-bye to players and team personnel in the 30 minutes of bustle in the clubhouse after the game.
Then he want back outside, stepped onto the roof of the Mariners’ dugout and hung out with the fans, signing autographs and talking – still in full uniform. Thirty minutes later, more than a hundred people remained.
Another hour later, Wetteland continued to talk, sign and pose for photos with children. Eventually, only a mom and her two kids remained, and Wetteland gave them individual attention that some coaches would charge good money to hear in offseason clinics and seminars.
Watching from above in the press box, I had no idea what Wetteland was telling that mom and her kids. Could have been an explanation of lyrics from one of his favorite rock groups, System of a Down, although I imagine he was giving his view of life and inspiration. That’s how Wetteland rolls, whether you’re a young relief pitcher or an 8-year-old with a dream. He helps you believe in yourself, and in turn that makes him feel good.
The mom and the boys eventually said good-bye and made their way toward the exit, and Wetteland stepped down from the roof of the dugout.
However, before he went inside to get out of his uniform, Wetteland stopped on the warning track in front of the Mariners’ dugout, turned around and faced the field, now empty and dark with the Safeco Field roof overhead.
He put his hands on his hips and stood there, looking at nothing but probably absorbing everything – perhaps a season that went terribly wrong, or relationships with players and fans that may never be the same again, or thoughts of the two years of passion he put into a job that might not be his when the 2011 season begins.
Wetteland stood motionless for a minute or two. Then he turned, descended the dugout steps and began to pull off his Mariners jersey, no doubt wondering if it would be the last time.
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
