Knocking On The Door To The Hall Of Fame

I have been so preoccupied with posts of Detective Goren, LOCI episodes, and possible family-felons of late that I have been remiss in neglecting my first, true love…baseball. So much so in fact that June 9th has come and long gone…the night “the kid” (Ken Griffey, Jr.) hit his 600th home run, and I haven’t even mentioned it in passing. I am really slipping, folks.

I have to confess that I have never been a diehard Junior fan. I saw his dad play with the “Big Red Machine” of the 1970’s. Now, those were the days, my friends. Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, Pete Rose, Griffey, Sr. and George Foster…ah...the sweet, happy memories those gentlemen conjure in my mind. That was back when baseball was baseball; i.e., no steroids or growth hormones, no obscenely ridiculous salaries, no pitch counts, and...more importantly...no freakin' cheerleaders prancing about in short costumes. Hello!! It's baseball!

When the Reds traded a bunch of players for Junior back in 2000, I think I was the only person in Cincinnati who wasn’t overjoyed with the trade. I mean, my only frame of reference of Junior was from clips I had seen of him on Sports Center…mainly of him making some spectacular play in the outfield; i.e., diving to the turf or leaping up against the wall. But, mostly, the image of Junior that stuck in my mind was after he hit a home run, instead of tossing his bad aside, lowering his head and going into his home run trot, he would stand there and watch the ball as it left the park…admire his handiwork…if you will.

Now, Junior didn’t initiate this trend and lord knows he won’t be the last ballplayer to stand at home plate and watch his "dinger" be swallowed by the warm summer night. It’s just that, well, I am an “old school” kind of baseball girl and there was a time when that kind of bush league, chicken shit behavior was considered “showing up” the pitcher. The way I see it, if you're the batter, you have already shown up the pitcher by jacking the ball out of the park, so get your scrawny ass on around the bases and take a seat in the dugout. You can admire yourself later on Sports Center.

All I can say is, it’s a good thing these young whippersnappers didn’t play “back in the day” when guys like Bob Gibson, Juan Marischal, or Don Drysdale (to name a few) pitched. Because, I promise you, if Junior had pulled that kind of crap on one of them, the next time he came up to bat, the first pitch to home plate would have been in his ear. At the very least, he would have been sucking dirt. It’s called “respect” and sadly that is one concept that is lacking in so many aspects of our lives these days.

I vividly remember the night Carl Lindner (primary owner of the Reds at the time) flew Junior to Cincinnati on his private jet for a press conference that was held down at the stadium to officially announce Junior’s addition to the team. The local press went nuts. WLW, the local NBC affiliate, aired a commercial (I saw it only once) that was short and sweet. There was a placard stating “Welcome home, Junior" or "Junior’s Home” (something like that) then that slide faded away and the next one slowly came into view, stating a brazen, “See you in the World Series.” Well, that’s all well and good and a nice sentiment and all, but that’s one hell of a burden to put on one guy. Baseball is, after all, a TEAM sport. That’s one hell of an expectation for a young man to be saddled with right off the bat.

I’m not going to list all of Junior’s accomplishments and the record or near record-breaking numbers he has accumulated over the years. There are tons of websites devoted to that sort of thing. I mean, if there is one thing that baseball is absolutely fanatical about…it’s statistics. They keep track of everything and I do mean everything. The thing that was supposed to be “special” for all concerned was the fact that Junior was coming home. His dad played in Cincinnati …was a part of the "Big Red Machine" that won back-to-back World Series championships in 1975 and 1976. Junior grew up here, went to school here…Cincinnati is his “hometown.”

But things did not go according to plan for Junior here in Cincinnati; ever since "coming home," his career has been plagued with injuries. And the fans…well…the fans have not always been kind to him. Hell, some of them have been downright abusive. I was at the game…game five of the 2003 season in the new ballpark, as I recall…when he dove for a ball in the outfield and dislocated his shoulder. Fans…and I’m using the term loosely here…in the stands above him actually “taunted” him as he lay writhing in pain on the field. What can I say…idiots and assholes…they’re everywhere.

Anyway, Junior has hit home runs number 400, 500 and now 600 – and all those in between – in a Reds uniform. My baseball buddy, Mark, who lives in St. Louis has always been a Griffey fan. When the trade was announced back in 2000, he told me that I would enjoy watching him play and kept talking about Griffey's “sweet swing.” Now, I’ve watched a lot of baseball in my time and I’ve seen a lot of ballplayers swing the bat, but I didn’t know what Mark meant until I saw it for myself. It is hard to describe, but when Junior is “on,” when he’s in a groove, he is really something to watch. And that sweet swing...well...it's like a hot knife cutting through butter...smooth and fluid.

Unfortunately for Reds fans…true followers of the game…Junior hit number 600 on the road in front of a paltry crowd of 16,000 in Florida against the Marlins. The game was on TV, but I missed seeing it “actually” hit because I was fiddling with my PC at the time. Of course, I saw it on replay any number of times, but I will always feel a bit cheated that I didn't see him hit it in...you know...real time.

Anyway, unlike his two most recent predecessors into the elite club of 600 home runs; i.e., Barry Bonds and Sammy Sosa, Junior’s record setting home run is not tainted with a shroud of doubt as to his character. Junior, in fact, did it the right way…with honor and integrity. To quote Hal McCoy, Hall of Fame sports writer for the "Dayton Daily News," “When home run No. 600 splashed down among a splattering of fans in the orange seats inside the right field foul pole of Dolphin Stadium at 7:22 Monday night, Ken Griffey, Jr., etched his name in history, and he did it with a clean pen.”

Junior’s name has never appeared on a police blotter for…well… anything. His name has never…ever…been linked with those who cheated to gain an unfair advantage, or with drugs or booze or philandering. From all appearances, Griffey is a family-man; respectful of his parents, a devoted husband and loving father…in short…a good man. There is no cloud of suspicion hanging over Junior’s head or his achievements. There will be no asterisk beside his name when it is carved into the hallowed halls at Cooperstown.

As I said, Junior’s career has been riddled with injuries since his arrival to Cincinnati. In fact, injuries from as minor as a dislocated toe to as devastating as a shredded hamstring, between 2000 and 2005 have cost him nearly 450 games (that’s just shy of three seasons) or it is entirely possible that he would have been the one to break Hank Aaron's all time home run record instead of that "other guy." At that infamous press conference, the one welcoming Junior to the Reds, he was introduced as the man who would break Aaron's record in a Reds uniform. Fate…destiny…they’re fickle critters.

The injury that befell Junior that still makes me wince when I think about is the one when he literally ripped his hamstring off the bone. (OUCH!) As Hal McCoy states, “He has played in more pain than any player should have to endure, and he did it without complaint or excuse. He has rebuilt knees and brackets and pins and plates imbedded in every nook and cranny of his body. Three screws in his tailbone keeps his hamstring attached to the bone, six screws hold his shoulders in place.” See what I mean, the man has spent more time in rehab than Lindsay Lohan. Oops…different kind of rehab…but you catch my meaning, don’t you, Bullwinkle?

But Griffey doesn’t complain about his “misfortune.” He says he doesn’t deal with “what-ifs.” He’s only interested in playing the game…as long as it is still fun…and helping his teammates win.

So, while Griffey still isn’t my “favorite” ballplayer, I have come to respect him for the man that he is and how he plays the game. Junior will be a free-agent at the end of this season. The Reds do have an option for 2009, but I doubt if they’ll exercise it. So, chances are, Junior will be wearing another uniform next year. I hope he goes back to the American League where he can DH. And just maybe, one day, I’ll turn on Sports Center to find that “the kid” who still...on occasion...wears his ball cap backwards, has hit No. 700. I sure hope so.

Reds Hall of Fame radio announcer, Marty Brennaman, makes the call.


A slideshow from photos I found in the days following the "historic event."

Get a load of those diamond studs he's sporting in both ears.