TERRY MOSHER
What year it was I now no longer remember, but the games are seared into my mind because of what was happening at home plate. This was at the Kingdom, so it had to be in the late 1990s and the Mariners were in the middle of a long home stand.
Before I get to that, you need to know a couple things. First, I’m classified as an introvert and, two, there is a rule in press boxes that you don’t cheer or make loud noises, so being there worked fine for me because I don’t talk a lot anyway.
I remember the rule against cheering was violated just once in all my 30-plus years of experiences in a professional press box sitting. That happened when former pro golfer Ken Still was brought to the press box by a friend of mine and Still just went out of his mind cheering and talking loudly. He was sitting behind me in the press box at Safeco Field and it drove me and everybody else there crazy. He was told to stop by the public relations staff several times and the end result was that my friend was bluntly told not to bring Still back again.
So now we are in the late 1990s and I silently watch as Edgar Martinez time after time walks to the plate for an at-bat and each time patiently fouls off pitches until he finds one he likes and hits it hard. He didn’t always get a hit but it was impossible to get him out on strikes.
This goes on for game after game in the homestand and Edgar probably is hitting over.500 with several home runs and five or six doubles and he’s not finished yet. Finally, I could not stand it any longer. I had goose bumps on my arms as I watched him stride to home plate once more because I knew what was going to happen. Remember, I’m not much of a talker, but all of a sudden in the quiet of the press box at the Kingdome I erupt in laughter. I mean serious laughter. I just couldn’t help myself because the whole scene was so ridiculous.
Fellow writers turned to look at me, but I never took my eyes off Edgar and continued to laugh as he fouled off bad pitches and finally found the one he liked and launched a long home run.
I never experienced anything like that in all my long years covering Major League baseball. Here was a guy who was clearly in charge at the plate. Nobody could get him out. And if you know Edgar, he’s pretty quiet and humble and never changes expression, and here he was just making good pitching look like junior varsity at a middle school and doing it without any outward sign of emotion. He was, in effect, a quiet assassin and left excellent Major League pitching crestfallen.
Mariano Rivera, the great closer for the Yankees, once told the New York Daily News that Edgar was the toughest hitter he ever faced.
“He was the toughest,” Rivera told the Daily News. ”Oh my God, I think every pitcher will say that because he was tough. And thank God he retired.”
Martinez hit a remarkable .625 against Rivera in his career with two home runs, three doubles and six RBI.
Edgar is the greatest right-handed hitter I ever saw. No question in my mind whatsoever. He should be in the Hall of Fame, and will be either with next year’s balloting for the hall or the following year in Edgar’s last year of eligibility.
And it pleases me to no end that the Mariners will retire his No. 11 this August, placing his number next to Ken Griffey Jr.’s and Jackie Robinson at Safeco Field.
I know whenever I see that No. 11hanging at Safeco, I’ll remember back to the time when he made it look so easy to hit that I broke a sacred rule against making noise in the press box and burst out in uncontrollable laughter.
Okay, I’ve been at this keyboard for six hours straight now and I need a break so I can rest some with the flu that I have.
Be well pal.
Be careful out there.
Have a great day.
You are loved.
