At this point last year, the Mariners were coming off their second straight season missing the playoffs in a season that cost Scott Servais his job. Their big moves in November included re-acquiring Austin Shenton from the Rays and re-signing Casey Lawrence to a minor-league deal. Jorge Polanco was a free agent.
It’s already been a much happier November for Mariners fans, fresh off the team’s first ALCS appearance since [insert 2000s pop culture reference of your choosing here], and basking in the glow of the five-year Josh Naylor extension. Before we sit down at the table, here’s what we’re thankful for this year as Mariners fans:
Nicky V:
I am grateful that this playoff run resparked my love for the Mariners and baseball in general. It quite literally fixed me, in a few ways. The joy of Game 5 and the pain of Game 7 reminded me that being a Baseball Person (and even worse, a Mariners Fan) is an intrinsic, immutable part of my personhood, and denying that part of me for a year was an exercise in self-flagellation. Which, don’t get me wrong, I love to do, but this iteration was especially stupid and pointless. I’m grateful to have found that love and hunger for Mariners baseball inside me, right where I left it. And I’m grateful for an opportunity to grow and learn to leave some of my worst impulses behind.
Eric:
I am grateful and thankful that no matter what billionaire owners and MLB management do to try to squeeze every bit of fun, magic, and unpredictability out of the game, they cannot ever taint the joy that fans receive from seeing their beloved home team make a playoff run. No matter how much the sickness of online gambling is promoted, no matter how craven the capitalistic urge to squeeze every bit of ad revenue out of the game, and no matter how much everyone who works at the games is exploited for their time and labor for little pay, there is still an immortal bit of magic that remains in seeing your favorite players on your favorite team deliver game-winning moments in must-win baseball games. I’m grateful that as long as there is Major League Baseball, no one can take that from me.
But, even more importantly, I am forever grateful to be a part of this staff and community and I count the friendship connections I’ve made here over the many years among some of my most precious things in life. Because what is joy and triumph if you’re not able to share it with your friends, family, and community?
John:
There is gratitude for what’s on the field, and for how it envelopes me and those I love, and those I’ve yet to get to know. This more than any other in my adult life, I got to experience the joy and fervor of seeing the Seattle Mariners capture the love and engagement that I have felt every day of my adult life. Thank goodness for The Last Drop and Growler Guys, for the light rail and e-bikes, for street food vendors and good-natured M’s employees. I’m grateful for this place, where I’ve been welcomed by old mentors and new friends, had the chance to cherish games and moments with those I’ve known for years and folks I’ve never met before. I’m grateful to feel a purpose (okay, a few purposes, and none of them pay well) in my life, and I’m grateful for the people who love me enough to remind me of those purposes when I feel as though I’m not doing enough.
This season, and if we’re being honest, from the trade deadline onward, I felt an energy around these Mariners, surpassing all expectations. I am grateful for each and every one of you for reading, engaging, commenting and chatting, in these pages and in real life. Taking this experience we love to daily conversation is not always easy, not an investment of time, energy, and money easily justified sometimes. But the joy and camaraderie, the shared pride and connection with strangers. The tears of relief and catharsis that yes, better things are possible, it can (nearly) all go right, they fill my heart and my cup. And yes, thank goodness there’s a
Kate:
I’m grateful for the opportunity to write about this team with and for this community; I learn something new every day. I value every comment that’s prompted me to think differently about baseball or life in general, every stat that’s forced me to mold my English-major brain into thinking more mathematically, every Remember Some Guys who I never knew about in the first place. I’m grateful for the relationships we’ve built over time, among the LL community and the staff (even John’s hanging sentence up there, a thought unfinished, a very John thing to do) and with the team itself. I am very thankful the Mariners are so welcoming to non-traditional media, and for the opportunities the Mariners PR staff has afforded us in covering the team that has enriched and deepened our coverage over the years. Finally, in an often stressful and sad season of life, I’m grateful for the constancy baseball brings during the season: a game today, and one tomorrow, and more than likely, one the next day too. Cheers to white-knuckling our way to another spring training.
Isabelle:
I’m grateful for the games I listened to while running along the Burke Gilman, while wrapping dishes in bubble wrap, while splayed out along the shore of Lake Washington. I’m grateful for the games at T-Mobile Park, when I wore six different layers, glanced intermittently at the field and dipped carrots into hummus beside my mom; I’m grateful for the games at T-Mobile Park, when my arms were bare and the carrots sat abandoned at our feet while I clung to my mom. I’m grateful for the games I had to beg a bartender to turn on, and the ones where my yells disappeared in the crowd.
I’m grateful for the scaffolding baseball has erected in my life. The support beams of relationships, the memories draped along every surface, the very platforms on which I’ve grown. And I’m grateful for you, for choosing to share in the euphoria and the agony and the everyday drivel of this game with us (and for your generosity around clunky construction metaphors).
Ezra:
I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve had here at LL to write about my absolute favorite Seattle team. To make connections and have experiences I dreamed about as a kid, to put my words to the page, and hear the community agree with what I say (sometimes).
I’m grateful for the Mariners and all their many iterations: the good, the bad, and the truly hilariously awful. The moments of pure joy that let you know how much you love this team, crying over a walk-off win in May. The total all-consuming crushing anguish of defeat in the ALCS, that lets me know I’m alive, that I care, that my heart still beats out of my chest for the team and the game that I love.
I’m thankful for all the love baseball has given me, bringing me closer to my siblings, my dad, and dozens of people I’ve met throughout my life.
