Da M's

Greg Briley. Rich Amaral. Pete O'brien. Mike Blowers. Sterling Hitchcock. Russ Davis. Scott Bradley. Jeffrey Leonard. Alvin Davis. Paul Sorrento. Mike Schooler. Dave Fleming.

The unsung heroes. The hard hat and lunch pail crew who carried the team from a one time laughing stock, to a credible franchise. The pillars who lifted budding stars Randy Johnson and Ken Griffey Jr. to a new plateau.

I will never forget these names as long as I remain cognisant. They send a Pavlovian charge in my brain stem whenever anyone brings up the Mariners. These are the players I grew up worshipping. The guys I looked up to in awe.

Most of these guys were out of the league before the Florida Marlins and Colorado Rockies were even conceived. Let alone the Arizona Diamondbacks and Tampa Bay Rays. Four teams with four World Series appearances and three sets of rings amongst them.

Meanwhile the Mariners have zero.

I will be the first to acknowledge that the vast majority of my childhood favorites were not fantastic major leaguers. They did not have to be. Times were different then. The Mariners did not hold the ninth highest payroll in sports. Sportswriters never projected Seattle as a potential lock for supremacy in the AL West.

Until recently it was never the marginal players at fault. If anything, the Mariners were always guilty of releasing or trading them too soon. If anything , they were a strength. And then after some success early in the century, the marginal players started being paid like all stars.

And performing like Little League All Stars.

Most of the problems in the Mariners system have derived from their willingness to hold onto old fan favorite players far too long. This is why Edgar Martinez was allowed to toil in mediocrity for the waning years of his career. Others, such as Dan Wilson and Brett Boone decomposed before our very eyes. Simply put, if a particular player struck a chord with the community, he was kept on staff. And this in turn affected playing time and development for potential solid replacements.

Look at it this way. If Shaun Alexander were a Mariner, he would have never been cut.

I like all Mariner faithful loved these guys as well. However I also am aware that sometimes you have to say goodbye to a fan favorite to stay competitive. The Sonics knew this when they dealt Desmond Mason and Gary Payton for Ray Allen. As did the Seahawks when they released Cortez Kennedy to gain flexibility under the salary cap.

Toting out the local hero players was ideal only for the bandwagon Seattle Mariners fan. The folks who are more enthralled with the concept of garlic on french fries at Safeco than the poor production on the field. The yuppies who lean over the rail and snag live balls in play, squelching late inning rallies.

For a short while it was okay to let the hometown greats have their curtain call, if only to appease the folks in the luxury box who have to ask why a player gets a free base on four balls. The bourgeois crowd that bought season tickets when the team was up. "Fans" who had no idea that all of the Mariner teams that have achieved success were made up of mostly mid level players who raised their level of play, not solidified superstars.

However these crowds are dwindling. With the losing culture, the game is being brought back to the real fans. The folks who view the team as a representation of themselves and boo accordingly to to signify disapproval at underachievement. The old ladies who tally their own box scores. The handicapped savants who can list the entire Tacoma Rainier's roster. The little kids who still bring a glove to the park.

The same folks who get misty eyed recalling the aforementioned players, as they can actually put a face to the name. People who know that winning comes easier with solid role players than through throwing money around. A crowd that will demand more from management and the front office than ever before.

Jeff Cirillo. Pokey Reese. Brad Wilkerson. Ben Broussard. Scott Spiezio. Jose Paniagua. Luis Ugeto. Giovanni Carrara. Julio Mateo. Jeff Weaver. Ben Davis. Miguel Olivo.

Somehow these names do not have the same ring to them.