Published: Monday, November 7, 2011
It's time for Herald writer to say goodbye
Kirby Arnold's 27-year-run as an editor/writer at The Herald comes to an end.
Twenty-seven years may seem like a really long time until you reach the point of looking back. That's where I am today, wondering how in the world the time passed so quickly.
This is the final story I'll write as an employee of The Herald.
I'm leaving the newspaper to step into a phase of life that won't be anything like what I've experienced the past 27 years. I came to The Herald from Missouri in 1984 smitten with the opportunity to work for a newspaper whose sports coverage ranged from high schools to the pros.
In four years as assistant sports editor, 10 as executive sports editor and 13 covering the Seattle Mariners, my time at The Herald has spanned nearly half my life. It's been the most interesting, exhilarating and fun part of my 42 years in the newspaper business.
But there's got to be an end point, and for me this is it. For reasons both personal and professional, it's time to leave.
I don't know what I'll do next, although I have ideas.
I could step up my lifelong pursuit of a pro golf career, although I need a swing. I could try to be a tournament bass fisherman, except I need a boat. I love motorsports, but if I'm going to be a full-time NASCAR fan I'll need an "Anybody But Kyle Busch" T-shirt.
For now I'm going to sit back, enjoy my family and lean on memories of a 27-year-run at The Herald that was a privilege with every stride. A few of my favorites:
• I've interviewed everyone from rodeo clowns to a promising high school athlete named Grady Sizemore to legendary manager Lou Piniella.
Nobody was like Lou, who'd be as intensely ticked-off after a loss as he was loose and conversational before a game.
One day at spring training several years ago, Tacoma News Tribune writer Larry LaRue and I were talking with Lou in the dugout before a game against the Brewers. The players were taking infield drills when Lou looked to his left and saw catcher Ben Davis sitting on the bench.
"Big Ben, why aren't you out there?" Piniella asked.
"I'm letting the kids take infield, Lou," Davis replied.
"Well then," Piniella said. "Since you're not doing anything important, why don't you run over to Dairy Queen and bring us some burgers and shakes?"
Piniella smiled. So did Larry and I. And so did Davis, who had no idea Lou was ripping him.
• Aside from my childhood hero Stan Musial, I'd never seen a better pure hitter in person than Edgar Martinez. More than that, after I got to know him, I'd never encountered a better combination of greatness and humility in an athlete. Edgar would go 4-for-5 with two home runs and seem surprised that we'd want to talk with him about it after the game. He should be in the Hall of Fame, and he'll keep getting my vote.
• Former Mariners center fielder Mike Cameron gave me one of my favorite quotes as he described Carlos Guillen's squeeze bunt to clinch the 2000 playoff series over the White Sox.
"It was a thing of beauty," Cameron said. "It was like something Aristotle or one of those other famous artists did."
• Former Mariner Bret Boone often referred to the writers as "clowns" but he also made himself the butt of a joke. One day, I walked into the clubhouse to see that he had strung police tape from both sides of his locker to a cabinet a few feet away.
"No-clown zone," Boone said, sitting inside the tape.
"Nice, but which side of the tape is the no-clown zone?" I asked.
"Hmmm," he said. "Good point."
• Speaking of great Mariners afflicted with a big dose of goofiness, Jay Buhner was the king.
During spring training in 2001, I heard an awful sound from the coaches' locker room. It fell silent after a minute or so before Buhner emerged, cackling and holding a chainsaw.
The previous day, bench coach John McLaren had dumped baby powder in Buhner's locker, so Jay got even by cutting a couple of slices from McLaren's locker.
• Boone trumped that stunt later in the season after he acquired a pair of leather chaps. One afternoon, Boone galloped through the clubhouse wearing those chaps -- and nothing else. I'm still stained by the image.
• No player I covered was as great over a career as Ken Griffey Jr., although I witnessed little more than the surly part of it. Junior clearly wanted out of Seattle my first year on the beat in 1999 and, despite his uplifting return to the Mariners in 2009, the quarter season he played in 2010 before awkwardly retiring was a sad reminder that nothing is forever.
• No player intimidated me the first time I met him more than Arthur Rhodes. But as I got to know him, I realized that no player used that tough-guy shell to hide his caring, considerate self more than Rhodes.
• No player I covered silenced his doubters more than Jamie Moyer.
• I've never covered an athlete more mysterious than Ichiro Suzuki.
• Nothing overpowered me more than the sight and smell of Ground Zero about a month after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks in 2001. Former Herald columnist Larry Henry and I were in New York to cover the Mariners and Yankees in the ALCS.
• No man in baseball was as legendary, friendly, understanding and helpful to me as play-by-play broadcaster Dave Niehaus, who died a year ago this Thursday. I missed him so much this year.
Ballplayers say the element they miss most when they leave the game is the camaraderie in the clubhouse. To me, it's the same in the press box.
On this beat, we're alongside reporters from other outlets more than we're with those from our own newspaper. We dine with the competition and joke with them, and then try to write a better story. I'll miss them all.
Larry LaRue of the Tacoma News Tribune, Jim Street, formerly of the Seattle P-I and MLB.com, and Bob Sherwin, formerly of the Seattle Times, are good friends not only on the beat but also in life. We talked about story angles, wives, grammar, kids, nice players, punctuation, surly players, food, game strategy, music, pitching, illness, hitting and death -- hardly in that order. We laughed a lot and, yeah, hid a couple of tears.
I'll miss talking with the players, coaches, managers, trainers and front-office executives. The Mariners made me feel welcome from the first day on the beat and, while their record may not have shown it the past several years, they're a first-rate organization in many ways.
So are the people I've worked for the past 27 years. The Herald has long cared about its people and strong journalism, which is why I came here in 1984. I'm forever grateful to Bob Yates, my first sports editor in Missouri and the man who brought me to The Herald.
Most of all, thanks to my family.
My mother and father instilled a love of sports, especially baseball, that led me into this business. My wife Debbie and children John and Jill were amazingly understanding as I worked days, nights and days-and-nights. I don't want to know how many dinners they ate without me or the times I wished them good-night by phone.
The kids are married, Debbie and I are blessed with 1-year-old twin granddaughters and I can't wait to spend more time with all of them.
Finally, I appreciate everyone who has read my stories, columns, blogs and Twitter updates. I had a great time writing them.
There's got to be a last word, though, and for me this is it.
To my wife, my kids, family, friends, editors, photographers, writers, broadcasters, players, coaches, managers, front-office personnel, trainers, clubhouse workers and readers:
Thank you so much.
This is the final story I'll write as an employee of The Herald.
I'm leaving the newspaper to step into a phase of life that won't be anything like what I've experienced the past 27 years. I came to The Herald from Missouri in 1984 smitten with the opportunity to work for a newspaper whose sports coverage ranged from high schools to the pros.
In four years as assistant sports editor, 10 as executive sports editor and 13 covering the Seattle Mariners, my time at The Herald has spanned nearly half my life. It's been the most interesting, exhilarating and fun part of my 42 years in the newspaper business.
But there's got to be an end point, and for me this is it. For reasons both personal and professional, it's time to leave.
I don't know what I'll do next, although I have ideas.
I could step up my lifelong pursuit of a pro golf career, although I need a swing. I could try to be a tournament bass fisherman, except I need a boat. I love motorsports, but if I'm going to be a full-time NASCAR fan I'll need an "Anybody But Kyle Busch" T-shirt.
For now I'm going to sit back, enjoy my family and lean on memories of a 27-year-run at The Herald that was a privilege with every stride. A few of my favorites:
• I've interviewed everyone from rodeo clowns to a promising high school athlete named Grady Sizemore to legendary manager Lou Piniella.
Nobody was like Lou, who'd be as intensely ticked-off after a loss as he was loose and conversational before a game.
One day at spring training several years ago, Tacoma News Tribune writer Larry LaRue and I were talking with Lou in the dugout before a game against the Brewers. The players were taking infield drills when Lou looked to his left and saw catcher Ben Davis sitting on the bench.
"Big Ben, why aren't you out there?" Piniella asked.
"I'm letting the kids take infield, Lou," Davis replied.
"Well then," Piniella said. "Since you're not doing anything important, why don't you run over to Dairy Queen and bring us some burgers and shakes?"
Piniella smiled. So did Larry and I. And so did Davis, who had no idea Lou was ripping him.
• Aside from my childhood hero Stan Musial, I'd never seen a better pure hitter in person than Edgar Martinez. More than that, after I got to know him, I'd never encountered a better combination of greatness and humility in an athlete. Edgar would go 4-for-5 with two home runs and seem surprised that we'd want to talk with him about it after the game. He should be in the Hall of Fame, and he'll keep getting my vote.
• Former Mariners center fielder Mike Cameron gave me one of my favorite quotes as he described Carlos Guillen's squeeze bunt to clinch the 2000 playoff series over the White Sox.
"It was a thing of beauty," Cameron said. "It was like something Aristotle or one of those other famous artists did."
• Former Mariner Bret Boone often referred to the writers as "clowns" but he also made himself the butt of a joke. One day, I walked into the clubhouse to see that he had strung police tape from both sides of his locker to a cabinet a few feet away.
"No-clown zone," Boone said, sitting inside the tape.
"Nice, but which side of the tape is the no-clown zone?" I asked.
"Hmmm," he said. "Good point."
• Speaking of great Mariners afflicted with a big dose of goofiness, Jay Buhner was the king.
During spring training in 2001, I heard an awful sound from the coaches' locker room. It fell silent after a minute or so before Buhner emerged, cackling and holding a chainsaw.
The previous day, bench coach John McLaren had dumped baby powder in Buhner's locker, so Jay got even by cutting a couple of slices from McLaren's locker.
• Boone trumped that stunt later in the season after he acquired a pair of leather chaps. One afternoon, Boone galloped through the clubhouse wearing those chaps -- and nothing else. I'm still stained by the image.
• No player I covered was as great over a career as Ken Griffey Jr., although I witnessed little more than the surly part of it. Junior clearly wanted out of Seattle my first year on the beat in 1999 and, despite his uplifting return to the Mariners in 2009, the quarter season he played in 2010 before awkwardly retiring was a sad reminder that nothing is forever.
• No player intimidated me the first time I met him more than Arthur Rhodes. But as I got to know him, I realized that no player used that tough-guy shell to hide his caring, considerate self more than Rhodes.
• No player I covered silenced his doubters more than Jamie Moyer.
• I've never covered an athlete more mysterious than Ichiro Suzuki.
• Nothing overpowered me more than the sight and smell of Ground Zero about a month after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks in 2001. Former Herald columnist Larry Henry and I were in New York to cover the Mariners and Yankees in the ALCS.
• No man in baseball was as legendary, friendly, understanding and helpful to me as play-by-play broadcaster Dave Niehaus, who died a year ago this Thursday. I missed him so much this year.
Ballplayers say the element they miss most when they leave the game is the camaraderie in the clubhouse. To me, it's the same in the press box.
On this beat, we're alongside reporters from other outlets more than we're with those from our own newspaper. We dine with the competition and joke with them, and then try to write a better story. I'll miss them all.
Larry LaRue of the Tacoma News Tribune, Jim Street, formerly of the Seattle P-I and MLB.com, and Bob Sherwin, formerly of the Seattle Times, are good friends not only on the beat but also in life. We talked about story angles, wives, grammar, kids, nice players, punctuation, surly players, food, game strategy, music, pitching, illness, hitting and death -- hardly in that order. We laughed a lot and, yeah, hid a couple of tears.
I'll miss talking with the players, coaches, managers, trainers and front-office executives. The Mariners made me feel welcome from the first day on the beat and, while their record may not have shown it the past several years, they're a first-rate organization in many ways.
So are the people I've worked for the past 27 years. The Herald has long cared about its people and strong journalism, which is why I came here in 1984. I'm forever grateful to Bob Yates, my first sports editor in Missouri and the man who brought me to The Herald.
Most of all, thanks to my family.
My mother and father instilled a love of sports, especially baseball, that led me into this business. My wife Debbie and children John and Jill were amazingly understanding as I worked days, nights and days-and-nights. I don't want to know how many dinners they ate without me or the times I wished them good-night by phone.
The kids are married, Debbie and I are blessed with 1-year-old twin granddaughters and I can't wait to spend more time with all of them.
Finally, I appreciate everyone who has read my stories, columns, blogs and Twitter updates. I had a great time writing them.
There's got to be a last word, though, and for me this is it.
To my wife, my kids, family, friends, editors, photographers, writers, broadcasters, players, coaches, managers, front-office personnel, trainers, clubhouse workers and readers:
Thank you so much.
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