Now I know that last week I promised you a rundown of the clever subterfuge that resulted in all those 100% truth-free offseason rumors, but then the Mariners had to go and get an itchy trigger finger. So I'm pushing my promised piece a week or so into the future in order to shed some light on one of the most lopsided trades in history (at least the Red Sox got money for Babe Ruth).

Specifically, let's examine the theory -- nay, the absolute truth, according to some journalists -- that the Mariners had to take this deal because despite their best efforts, they had, as George Costanza would say, "no hand."My contention is that the Mariners had a bit more, er, hand than you think, but they used it with the same kind of effectiveness the Three Stooges did when they fixed plumbing.

While many in the Anger stage of loss (don't worry, depression is still to come), plus most sports columnists, blame the lack of leverage solely on Griffey, the M's -- who are supposedly seasoned business professionals, mind you -- bungled several key points:-- First, the Mariners announced their desperation to trade Griffey in a media-oriented "joint statement." The very existence of a "joint statement," which Griffey agreed to but did not create, declared to the world that the M's were hungry to make a trade -- any trade. There would not have been a "Griffey statement." No, the team was expressing in the strongest possible terms that they wanted to dump, er, trade him.

The infamous Pat Gillick question to Junior -- "would you re-sign if we won the World Series in 2000?" -- was pure window dressing, designed to cover the team's ass. Far from thinking that "no" was an incorrect answer, I'm amazed that Griffey's reply didn't consist of a spit-take followed by a half-hour of hearty chuckling. It was a stupid question, and deserved a stupid answer.

A smart PR person would have publicly stated that Griffey is crucial to the team's quest for a championship in 2000, and pointing out exactly why that is, while quietly accepting calls from interested GMs.-- The Mariners asked for a "trade list." While his ten-and-five rights allow him to veto a trade, Griffey has no contractual right to tell the M's who to talk to, yet the team asked him up-front for a "list." Any bonehead knew where Griffey wanted to go, and the M's should have focused on the Reds to begin with, with the leverage that he may accept a trade to Pittsburgh, or Tampa, or Flushing.-- Leaking crap like crazy to the media. Mind you, every single rumor was wrong, but there should have been enforced media silence, under threat of firing, until a deal is formally agreed on. And that includes...-- The Mets "deal." The plan seemed to be that somehow Gillick would convince Reds GM Jim Bowden that Griffey was worth a lot by making a deal with Mets GM Steve Phillips that Gillick knew in advance would not be approved.

This failed on two levels: First, after learning that Gillick was about to do this, Griffey's agent, Barry Goldberg, was forced to go public with the fact that the list did not include the Mets, then Gillick looked like a buffoon for staging the "conclusion" of the deal anyway.

Gillick did manage to suck the wire services (and with them, many fans) into believing that Griffey "suddenly" nixed the deal, but at that point the only thing he could gain was to turn public sentiment against Griffey.-- Turning public sentiment against Griffey, or at least condoning the negative sentiment. If I ran the M's I would (after firing the concessionaires and making beer a buck) have packaged up some Griffey retrospective media events, both to reassert his value and to make his possible return for the 2000 season into a lucrative "farewell tour."Kids would be crying to their parents for tickets to see Griffey's last games in Seattle. It was in the M's best interest on every level to continue marketing Griffey as "the Michael Jordan of baseball." (Am I the only one who burst out laughing when Bowden said that?)-- Accepting a bad deal. I don't care how Griffey felt about returning, it doesn't excuse the team from accepting a metaphorical bag of balls. Although it seemed like all Seattle was ready to storm his summer home with torches and pikes, at the very worst it would take only until his traditional Opening Day home run to get the crowd back on his side. Case in point: Randy Johnson, who actually was surly about the whole thing, was welcomed as a returning hero last year. Griffey has a lot more friends on the team than Johnson did, and Junior would have been professional enough to play his best -- especially if the team looked like it would make the playoffs.

Arguably, if the team felt that Goldberg's public announcement of the "one-team list" was the major issue, they could have charged the Reds and Griffey with tampering with intent to undermine a reasonable deal. They did not, indicating that they realized Goldberg and the Reds could point out several ways the M's shot themselves in the foot.

Was Griffey the problem? No. Griffey's just a person, taking care of personal business. He can act on a whim, or trust his gut. He can sign to Minnesota for a Devil Dog if he so desires. However, the Mariners are a business, and are expected to do what's best for their business -- yet they clearly did not.

I think that makes the M's to blame for any "fiasco," real or imagined.

about the author

Michael Cox would appreciate it if your kids wouldn't run in front of him on the outfield berm. Just don't ask what's in that thermos at mc@strikethree.com.

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