After other Mariners stars left, Ichiro stepped into the Seattle spotlight

Matt Calkins, The Seattle Times on Jul 25, 2025

Published in Baseball

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SEATTLE — On the front page of The Seattle Times Sunday, you can get a 1,500-word helping of immersive Ichiro insight from Larry Stone, who watched the soon-to-be Hall of Famer from the front row in Seattle for 11 years.

I, meanwhile, never saw Ichiro take one swing live during his prime Mariners years — never heard the T-Mobile Park crowd roar during any of his All-Star seasons. But maybe an out-of-town perspective will help cement what a phenomenon the inimitable Ichiro was.

For a Southern California kid, the Mariners always meant one thing to me: star power. It didn't matter that they weren't regularly competing for titles. They had the coolest, and possibly most gifted, outfielder of his generation in Ken Griffey Jr. They had the tallest, most intimidating pitcher of his generation in Randy Johnson. And they had the most talented — and later, most coveted — player in MLB in Alex Rodriguez.

Locals will lift Edgar Martinez above Randy and A-Rod due to his 18-year commitment to the club, and that's understandable. But for most outside the Puget Sound area, it was that first trio of names that stood together on the greatness podium.

And then they were gone. It didn't happen all at once, of course, with Johnson changing teams in 1998, Griffey in '99 and Rodriguez in 2000. Eventually, though, all the A-listers bounced.

Then, a rookie from the Nippon Professional Baseball league flew into Seattle with a bat, glove and freshly rolled red carpet.

People who followed baseball knew who Ichiro was and what he might be capable of. Nobody thought he'd elevate himself to American League MVP in his rookie season. The 2001 Mariners not only had the most wins in AL history that year with 116 (tied with the 1906 Cubs for the most ever in MLB) — they likely had the most surprising regular season in league history.

And Ichiro was the frontman for it all.

I'm not going to pretend like it was an event every time the man came to the plate for someone living more than 1,000 miles away. But when someone racks up more hits (242) in a season than anyone had in more than 70 years, ends up with a league-leading .350 batting average and steals 56 bases, you notice.

As a Los Angelino, I witnessed Nomo-mania firsthand when Japanese pitcher Hideo Nomo won Rookie of the Year for the Dodger in '95 while finishing fourth in the Cy Young voting. I could tell what was happening in Seattle was a lot bigger.

When was the last time the league had seen a player like this? Tony Gwynn might have been the closest thing. The Padres great led MLB with a .370 average in 1987 while stealing 56 bases — but he wasn't beelining throws from deep right field and nailing base runners who felt assured they'd be safe at third. And Tony didn't keep up the base-stealing like Ichiro, who nabbed at least 31 bags every season in his first 10 years.

Every Mariner I mentioned before had distinct qualities. Griffey had the swing and the swag, Johnson the domineering presence and dominant results, Rodriguez the prodigious two-way talent we hadn't seen in a generation, and Martinez his near two-decade-long loyalty to an organization. Ichiro was every bit as much of a standout — from both his lines to reporters and line drives to the outfield. He was unique.

Sorry, wrong tense. He is unique.

Not all star athletes love their profession. Nuggets big man Nikola Jokic — perhaps the best basketball player since LeBron James — once said, Nobody likes their job, or maybe they do — they're lying. Ichiro, wild as his quotes have been, would never say something like that.

He was in the show till the age of 45 years, playing his final two (quiet) seasons in Seattle. Then he immediately signed up as a special assistant to the chairman, where he would work with various Mariners in a variety of ways.

But the love fans have for him matches the love he has for the game. There has never been a moment of ill will from Seattle, which will almost certainly erect a statue of his likeness one day.

We all know the Mariners have never been to a World Series. They also haven't been short on star power in decades. Over the past 10-plus years, it's ranged from Félix Hernández to Robinson Canó to Julio Rodríguez to Cal Raleigh.

But for the greater part of the 2000s, Ichiro single-handedly filled that gap. He's a true Hall of Famer — emphasis on the fame.