Johnson Elicits Gratitude And Envy

The Cy Young Award winner stood at the podium humble and grateful, tanned and happy. After a monumental climb - eight years, two organizations - Randy Johnson had reached the top of his profession.

His news conference was carried live on television and radio. Imagine baseball news so hot in Seattle in November it’s on live TV in the middle of the afternoon.

For almost a half hour Johnson answered all of the questions about how he felt and how he had matured. But all I could think about was that one moment last month. The last strike Johnson threw past California’s Tim Salmon on that first Monday in October.

With that pitch, Johnson defeated the Angels and clinched the American League West for the Mariners. Arms upraised, waiting for the hugs of catcher Dan Wilson, Johnson must have been the happiest man alive.

I thought about that moment Tuesday with equal amounts of gratitude and envy.

Many of us dream of such a day. In the living room, in the back yard, on the mound in the sandlots, we mime these moments. The crowd on its feet. All eyes on us. The wind up. The pitch. Strike three.

My envy? Johnson experienced that blissful moment. Imagine his feelings. All of the hardships and hard knocks; the meandering road through Jamestown, West Palm Beach, Jacksonville, Indianapolis and Montreal. All of it made worthwhile by that strikeout.

My gratitude? For every fan, sports is a personal collage, a collection of indelible days and events. Johnson became part of that collage.

A man who is deeply appreciative of the support and guidance given to him by his late father, Johnson gave other fathers and sons and fathers and daughters an afternoon they’ll cherish together forever.

Whether you were one of the fortunate 52,000-plus who saw the game in person, or the hundreds of thousands who watched it on television, Johnson gave you a little piece of his heart.

He gave you chills and tears. He allowed you one of those precious moments in sports when you get to cheer yourself hoarse; when you feel as if you can’t be any happier than you are at this moment.

It was quite a gift.

Maybe it’s a stretch to say Johnson saved baseball in Seattle on that first Monday in October.

But without the playoffs, maybe the momentum would have died.

“The fans had been waiting for something like this to happen,” Johnson said. “They wanted to latch on to something. I’m glad we could provide that.”

Since he came to Seattle in 1989, we have watched Johnson’s slow, painful progression from power pitcher to Cy Young winner. We’ve watched his slider, his changeup and his head catch up to his fastball.

Of all of the pitchers with potential who have come through Seattle, Johnson’s the only one who stayed and delivered.

“My father passed away in 1993 and that was the year my heart became a lot bigger,” Johnson said. “A lot of people have wondered why, all of a sudden, has this transformation happened. It’s a matter of maturity and a matter of my heart getting a lot bigger and it’s a matter of dedicating myself to being the best.”

Johnson’s maturity allowed us all to be kids again. On the first Monday in October he took control of the season and gave us another photograph for our sports collage.