Most sons of major leaguers stay away from following their dad’s cleat prints and choose another sport. Barry Larkin’s son chose basketball and Griffey Jr.’s son chose football.
Ken Griffey Sr. was an outstanding player for The Big Red Machine and set a high standard for his son, who grew up in Cincinnati and attended Moeller High School.
Junior, though, eclipsed everything his father accomplished and was rewarded with election to the National Baseball Hall of Fame on Wednesday when his name appeared on 437 of 440 ballots cast. He received 99.32 perent of the vote, breaking Tom Seaver’s record of 98.84.
The numbers are all there, first-ballot Hall of Fame numbers. But that’s not what Ken Griffey Jr. is all about. What he did, he did right.
In 1998 Mark McGwire hit 70 home runs and Sammy Sosa hit 66 but both were tainted by the ogre of steroids and PEDs. Griffey quietly hit 56 that year for the Seattle Mariners. There has never been even a hint that Griffey ever enhanced his numbers outside the batting cage and weight room.
Griffey used to run around the Reds clubhouse as a kid with Pete Rose Jr. and Eduardo Perez, sons of Big Red Machinists. But I never knew him until a cold February night in 2000 at the press conference in Riverfront Stadium announcing his acquisition from the Mariners.
I asked him a question and he looked me in the eye and said, “I asked my dad about you. He said you are all right, so you are all right with me.”
And that’s what Griffey is all about. Family. If his dad said I was all right, then I was all right.
Griffey loved to sit on his large black steamer trunk next to his locker and hold court. But usually he talked about his family. If he was asked a question about himself, the answers were short and evasive. But ask him about his wife, Melissa, or one of his three kids, and he would talk about them for an hour with a shiny gleam in his eye.
During spring training one year, Griffey noticed during batting practice every day at 11:30 a.m. I would receive a phone call. He soon figured out it was from my wife, Nadine. I was legally blind and struggled seeing things in the bright Florida sunshine.
One day my phone rang as I stood next to Griffey at the batting cage. Before I could answer, he grabbed the phone and said to Nadine, “Don’t worry about him. We’re taking good care of him.”
On the day I was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in December 2002, the announcement was made at the winter baseball meetings in Nashville. Not 10 minutes had gone by after the announcement when my cell phone rang.
A voice said, “Hal, do you know who this is?” I said, “Yes, I recognize your voice, Junior.” And he said, “I’m just calling to congratulate you on making the Hall of Fame. They’ll let anybody in, won’t they?”
To this day I do not know how he found out so quickly or how he got my phone number.
Then there was the Christmas Eve five years ago after Griffey had retired. My phone rang and it was Junior. “Just calling to wish you and your family a Merry Christmas,” he said. No other player ever has done that.
Griffey was not the same player in Cincinnati that he was in Seattle due to injuries. But he was still a damn good player, still the best on the team. So I never got to see “The Kid.” I got to see the aging veteran and I got to see him hit home runs No. 500 and 600.
And I also got to see No. 531 in Washington on August 25, 2005. What is the significance of 531?
At the end of April that season Griffey had only one home run and the fans were relentlessly ugly toward him. So I wrote a column and said, “If Ken Griffey Jr. stays healthy and doesn’t hit 30 home runs this year, I’ll eat this column on Courthouse Square and I’ll bring the ketchup.”
And I forgot about it. Griffey didn’t forget, even though he never said a word about the column.
On that August night in Washington, he hit his 30th home run of the season. After the game as I stood outside the Reds clubhouse, Griffey walked by said, “Hal, here.” And he flipped me a baseball.
On the ball was written: “Home Run 30, #531, 8-25-05. Hal, thanks so much for the friendship. All my best, Ken Griffey Jr.”
It was the ball he hit for his 30th home run. He remembered the column. I don’t keep much memorabilia, but that baseball has a prominent place in my home office.
That’s why Ken Griffey Jr. is more than a Hall of Fame baseball player to me. He is a Hall of Fame person.
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