FanPost

My Relationship with the Post-Kevin Mather Mariners




If you are reading this, you are in an abusive relationship with the Seattle Mariners. The Kevin Mather saga proves it and shed a stadium-sized LED light on the issue.

Let me say this first: In no way am I belittling anybody who has suffered through a personal abusive relationship, nor am I saying that their suffering is in any way equal to Mariners fandom. If you or someone you know is in a real abusive relationship, please call your local domestic violence hotline or visit thehotline.org.

Deep down we all knew this was a one-sided arrangement with the Mariners. We give so much and get nothing back. We give our time, watching and listening to games, reading articles and message boards and having conversations with friends and co-workers. We give our money, my goodness do we give our money. We give so much energy and hope and we get nothing in return.

I was 15 years old when the Mariners last made the playoffs. I've lived my entire adult life without a postseason berth. Some readers are older than me, some are younger but we're all in the same position. Every year we think "this year will be different!" and every year we're left with horrible disappointment, dejection and in some cases, depression. We go through phases thinking, "Now they're finally getting better, all this emotional pain is paying off!" only to end up in the same pit of despair, a pit that was blown open to new proportions this past weekend.

We all knew deep down that the Mariners did not like to spend money, that they didn't really care as much as we hoped they did about winning and the fan experience. Kevin Mather put it on video: The Mariners front office only cares about making money. That's it. They don't care about winning, they don't care about losing, they don't care about their employees, they don't care about their players and they sure don't care about their fans.

So what do we do now as fans? Some of us are hopelessly addicted. It hurts to admit that lifelong Mariners fandom is an addiction but it kind of is. After I watched the Bellevue Rotary Club Breakfast video and soaked in the gamut of reactions and media coverage, I still wanted to be a fan. I was furious with what transpired and I had to ask myself, "Why would I want to continue cheering for this team? For this front office? This owner? Why would I want to show John Stanton that I still want to consume the product he's producing?" When it boils down to it, I'm addicted, I can't tear myself away, I love baseball and this is my team. The Mariners have always been my favorite and I can't change that, no matter how many times the Seahawks make the playoffs.

In a way, it's disheartening. No matter how poorly the Mariners treat their fans, how much they lose, how little they spend, or how much I have to shell out for one bottom-shelf beer at the game, I'm hooked and I can't help it. Every year I hope for change, every year they miss the playoffs and the cycle repeats. It's an abusive relationship and we're all victims but thankfully it's just sports and things actually can change.

I look to the Cleveland Browns fans for hope. I can't believe I typed that sentence but it's true. If they can do it, so can we. This is bad, we'll get through it and while I have very little faith in John Stanton to do the right thing and make an outside hire, we've all tied ourselves to this franchise for better or for worse and right now it can't get much worse so we might as well hang on as it gets better.