Thank You Félix
Dear King Félix,
When I look back on my time as a fan of the Seattle Mariners, I think about all the memories I have collected. I was just 8 when the Mariners went on that magical 1995 run. I can remember times watching games at my friend Thomas’ house. I can swear that I watched The Double from there, though being 8, I may have just seen it enough times since to feel like I did. In the early 2000s, I remember pestering my 6th period junior high school teachers into turning the game on as a reward for the class. I watched as the team won a major league record 116 games in 2001, Mike Cameron waving the American flag over the pitchers’ mound after clinching the division. I even remember staring in disbelief as that game happened. Those memories all feel so long ago, and most are hazy with time. Above all, the memories I have of you will be the ones to stick with me the longest, Félix.
By 2005, my interest was baseball was starting to slip. A couple years earlier, I started working summers at a camp outside Monroe. The job lasted through the summer, and it was harder to keep track of individual games while there. My friends were more interested in the basketball, my family in football. When you debuted, I most likely missed it. I would have a general of idea how the team was doing, but I hardly followed them closely. Over the next several years, I did take notice of some things, and typically they involved you. Before the 2007 season, I watched close enough to hear about the signing of a major international free agent pitcher, and I was interested enough to take a look when he made his home debut. But what I, and the entire baseball world saw was you. At just 21, you stole the show from Daisuke Matsuzaka, one hitting the Red Sox in route to your second win of the year. In 2008, I was watching as you hit a grand slam off Johan freaking Santana. (Did you really just close your eyes and swing?) That, along with the later attempt at regicide, made the game one to remember. We still imagine you doing it again, each time you play in a NL park.
Over the next few years, my interest slipped more and more. I would have April through early June to try and be interested in the Mariners, but each summer, I would struggle. The camp lasting from late June to mid-August, along with the seasons seeming over by the time I left made it all the more difficult. I would check in and see that you were doing well and wondered how long you would be around. You would win 19 games in 2009, the Cy Young in 2010. You were the light in the darkness of those times.
It wasn’t until 2012, when I started to feel drawn back to baseball. To get to the camp, I would typically take the Kingston-Edmonds ferry, or drive up I-405 to avoid Seattle traffic. On the afternoon of Wednesday August 15, 2012, I took the route through Seattle. Seeing people in Safeco, I decided I would turn the game on. By the time I got to Everett, you had completed the first perfect game in Mariners history, absolutely dominating the last few innings. Listening to that game got me curious how you would continue. I found that my interest in baseball was coming back. I watched more closely the rest of the 2012 season more closely, and carried that interest over into 2013. Every time you took the mound, I could see the fire, the passion. I would get the feeling that anything could happen.
In 2014, I was all in. It was a magical season. Competitive baseball lasting through the summer. There was no soul crushing losing streak that took us completely out of contention. That year, you went on the run of a lifetime. You had 16 straight starts going 7 innings while giving up less than 2 runs. That streak would end in Detroit. You seemed to be on the way to number 17 before taking a line drive off the hip, and seeing Miguel Cabrera get a late time out call while you were in the middle of your wind-up. Even though you were pulled after five innings, you still looked amazing. The final week of the season, it seemed like everything was going right for the team to finally make the post season, we all might finally get a chance to see you there. After a thrilling win in the 11th inning of the game before, you took the mound for game 162. A Mariner victory and a loss by the A’s would force a one game playoff to get the second wild card. You took the mound against the Angels and the results were simply amazing. It was as if you were willing the Mariners to finally get there. It was not meant to be as in the bottom of the fifth, the out-of-town scoreboard gave us the news we had feared: The A’s had won, securing the final playoff spot. In the top of the sixth, you were allowed one more out before Lloyd emerged from the dugout, wiping away a tear as he went out to get you. The crowd gave you a standing ovation, and you gave us a curtain call. One of my all-time favorite moments in my Mariner fan career. You would later take the blame for the team coming up one game short, due to a performance in Toronto a week earlier. But we never blamed you Félix. You were the reason we were even close.
2015 picked up right where you left off a year before. The first few starts, you looked as good as ever. Unfortunately, that brings us to June 1st and you Félix, when the rain fell. You went nine up, nine down on just 21 pitches that night. Could this be the night for number two? Suddenly the rain began to fall. A slow-moving roof and seven runs later, you were pulled after 4.2 innings. A couple games later, you would give up eight while just getting one out in Houston. You suddenly seemed mortal. You would finish out the rest of the year with a couple blemishes against the Red Sox and the Diamondbacks. 2016 you lost time with an injury, the team played pretty well, and you were able to reminded us all whose house Safeco Field was. 2017 brought a lot of promise, but was derailed by the injury bug. By 2018 and 2019, the results were slowly getting worse. Age and injuries seeming to finally catch up you. There were still flashes though, and we were all pulling for you every step of the way. Every time you took the mound, we were hoping you found a way to turn that corner.
While these last few seasons haven’t gone as well as you or many have hoped or thought, that is not how I will choose to remember you. I will remember the moments you gave to us. I’ll remember the heart, the passion, the intensity and fire. How you would always bear down when runners got on behind you, whether it was your fault or others’ mistakes. I will choose to remember your joking with Adrian Beltre. Your infectious smile, "Félixing" and even the little skip you would do over the first base line when heading to the dugout. What I will remember the most are your starts at Yankee Stadium. You would dominate as if to tease the New York fans and media with your abilities. You were the star that didn’t leave. You stuck with us through years of practically no support. There were 50 games where you allowed one or fewer run, and were handed a no decision or a loss due to the team providing little to no offense to back you up. Through all those tough times, you hung in there with us in the hopes of bringing something greater to the city of Seattle. You were ours, and no one else could have you.
As you go out there tonight, to take the mound, YOUR mound one last time before your loyal subjects, the left field stands cloaked in yellow t-shirts, K-cards shaking as they raucously cheer for you, know that they are here to honor you. Hopefully there is one more magic moment in that arm of yours before we see you leave the field for (presumably) the last time in a Mariner uniform. The only thing that there is left to say is:
"Thank You Félix!"
Sincerely,
btownfritz