This has to be the latest I’ve been at T-Mobile Park in years, if not ever. It’s 11 pm, and I’m in my Yes We Canó t-shirt circa 2015, and people around me are cheering Stefen Romero.
It isn’t heaven, nor is it hell. Baby, it’s the Mariners Alumni Home Run Derby.
The whole thing is a fever dream, fueled by the fact they have yet to close the drink stands and DJ Pleno AKA Julio Rodríguez out in the ‘Pen. Many people, like me, have taken tonight as an opportunity to dig deep into their closets; I spot
a Furbush jersey, a rogue Zunino, a DMo, multiple Ichiros and Randy Johnsons and Dave Valle himself, weaving lackadaisically through the concourse in the 4th inning. Between the 2-1 lackluster offense loss to the Rays and all these throwback tributes, it might as well be the early 2010s. Credit to the crowd, though, who seemed to almost universally hang around for the pomp and circumstance of the derby.
And say what you will about the Mariners on-field production, but they’ve always known how to put on a show. No expense was spared on pyrotechnics, with every homer getting the full home run treatment, alongside newly-installed flashing lights attached to all the walkway railings. The crowd roared increasingly loud for each contestant, coach and, of course, the commissioner (because obviously every derby needs a commissioner). My only quibble? No opportunity to stand and holler my head off for Nelson Cruz, one of said coaches. To call the assortment a who’s who of Mariners legends would do some a disservice, but it was definitely Some Guys of Remembering fame – Bucky Jacobsen, Stefen Romero, RyOn Healy, Ryan Rowland-Smith, Austin Nola – alongside legends like Mike Cameron and Ichiro.
The Derby itself was well-structured. Jacobsen was one of three pentagenarian participants, whose pro career was derailed by injury two decades ago. The one-time Banner Bank advertiser made good, scraping past the left field wall twice. It set the tone in the crowd and on the field, a combination of anxiety and relief coursing through the light-hearted nature. The fear of seeing true embarrassment from any of the participants was quelled one-by-one, with different standards for each hitter. For Jacobsen, a homer was enough, but he managed three big flies including an additional in the “Jackpot Round” where each homer was worth double.
For Nola, Healy, and Romero there were actual expectations. Nola was a big leaguer a season ago, and opted to coach the M’s bullpen instead of taking a minor league deal this spring. His swing looked much the same as it did nearly a decade ago in Seattle, lashing tasteful line drives over the fence with just enough pop to advance to the final round. Healy played in Korea in 2021 and was the youngest participant at 34, but was undermined in one of the night’s great surprises. Seeking an edge against a southpaw, the crowd erupted in delight as James Paxton trotted in to throw BP for what was quite clearly the first time in his life. Dealing in jeans, The Big Maple managed to generate a full whiff from Healy to the good-natured Oregonian’s chagrin. For his part, Romero was still a good hitter in the Mexican League in 2023, and is younger than current Triple-A Tacoma starter Casey Lawrence. As DJ Pleno grooved in The Pen, an increasingly giddy crowd delighted in big flies from the less-star-studded swingers. Sprinkled in was Crocodile Hunter cosplayer Ryan Rowland-Smith, who hammed it up to the extreme, tackling a stuffed crocodile on his way out and bat flipping two buzzer-beating homers to the glee of all attendees and his fellow broadcasters. He echoed the refrain so many of the contestants light-heartedly echoed: the joy of being able to do this in front of their families, including for many their children who’d been too young to see their playing careers. Mike Cameron has quite a different experience, having been able to watch his own son Daz reach MLB himself, but the 53 year old good-naturedly came up short.
The stage was set for the man everyone had stuck around to see, and Ichiro did not disappoint. Clubbing homers into the right field seats with the crowd willing every ball deeper, Ichiro came up just a single point short of advancing. And yet, even as many streamed to the exits while the final fly ball fell short, most stayed. The moment had earned itself. So often, Seattle has been denigrated rightly for drawing on nostalgia to a cloying, cynical degree. Empty rehashings of the magic of 1995 until the sweetness wears off like a cheap stick of gum. But silly as it felt, disappointing even, with a final between two role players from eras not likely to make many highlight reels, this event exceeded expectations. Bread and circuses get a bad rap, but this was at least bread, and folks, you can eat bread. With his back against the wall at a barrage of big flies by Nola, Stefen Romero ripped off homer after homer, building a crescendo of joy at something new from something old. No time taken, no bonus round needed, the former Oregon State Beaver elated his Portland-area youth team as they blasted through their bed-times to watch their coach take home the title.
As they presented Romero with his trophy, even I, who had held a grudge due to once being chastised by him on Twitter for saying he was bad, couldn’t help but cheer. It was a perfect distillation of what has always drawn me to the ballpark, regardless of the team’s record; the camaraderie and community of baseball.
Was it a perfect Home Run Derby? No, but it was a perfect(ly) Mariners night.
