Welcome to Terrace Club Blues, and the First Off-Day of the Season (3-4)
In the weeks leading up to opening day I internally debated whether or not I was going to try and write about the 2025 Mariners.
As a South Puget Sound native born in ‘97, who played/watched way more baseball in the first 12 years of a kid’s life than should be legally allowed, who was forced to watch the broadcasted demolition of the Kingdome (for, idk, sentimental reasons?), and who occasionally takes pride in being okay at communicating with words— the prospect seemed all-too-teed up. Baseball, specifically Mariners baseball, and writing, specifically creative writing, is my comfort corner.
But, like any reasonable 28-year-old who is also trying to be a present friend, boyfriend, employee, etc. and who doesn’t think they are the center of the universe, the questions of “would this really be worth my time?”, and “why would anyone care to read words I write about baseball?” kept me close to the bag— and ultimately, I decided not to write about the team this year. After all, I have a demanding day job I care about deeply that brings me a different kind of comfort, and in exchange keeps me away from home and off streaming services for long hours and requires me to miss almost every Saturday and Sunday game.
Err— rather, I did have a demanding day job that does those things.
I was laid-off from my dream gig last week unexpectedly. So for now— when I philosophize about “what my time is worth”, or “what people think about my work” I really, really couldn’t give a fuck. But, as cheese-bally as it sounds, impending misery and all, I do give a fuck about the Mariners— even when sometimes I really wish I didn’t.
In that spirit I’ve decided to let it rip this season and I hope anyone who graciously reads along can find some bits of comfort in this as much as I do.
Okay, so what the hell is going on??
I guess we kinda know what is going on. Don’t we?
Gray-haired-man, Jerry, Justin & the gang decided to “run it back” with basically the same exact team in ‘25 as in ‘24. The same team that nearly struck out more times in a season than any team has in the history of baseball. The same team that consistently struggled to put more than 2 runs on the scoreboard night in and night out (sans the wildly hot hair-up-their ass the club seems to get every August). The same team that spins it with the best of them and serves up quality starts like the team literally depends on such a fickle, baseball-y, made-up stat for any chance to dance after 9 (sorry Logan).
We knew the writing was on the wall the whole time, so the disappointingly anemic start to 2025, on the heels of a frigidly uneventful winter, comes as no surprise to any of us. Yet that doesn’t really make it hurt any less. I would go as far to say, sometimes when you know something is coming, it makes it feel even worse when the shoe eventually drops. But baseball is weird, and in a 162 game season there are a lot of shoes. As lame as it is— I have to mirror J at J’s Trident’s (an inspiration of mine, good job man) sentiment that we have to give it a month before absolutely turning our hopes out to pasture.
We can come to some conclusions, like how Rowdy Tellez isn’t going to be our DH answer, or that Emerson Hancock is what we all thought he was, a very fringe big league pitcher who’s capable of having a few good starts in the show every now and then. But we can’t lose all hope yet. We can keep our expectations low— we can assume this is going to be another Mariner’s team who is decent enough to stay in the hunt but not good enough to win the division, but we can’t and shouldn’t lose all hope yet. If we’re 9-19 after April, I’ll eat my bat tape and do some soul-searching, but for now, we have to resist the urge to be Reddit degenerates (yes, I know it’s “fun” and that “it’s not that serious bro”). The communal agony is appreciated, the unaccountable and anonymous nihilism makes me want to yell at clouds.
Anyway, it was nice to scrape a win against Skubal yesterday. That doesn’t make up for the less-than-mediocre offensive performance we’ve seen, but it’s a consolation that I will take anytime. So after 7 games, and an underwhelming opening homestand here are a few brief thoughts and one central take.
1. Gabe Speier looks great. Will be huge for us if he can continue to be nails until Brash is cleared and healthy. If he can consistently put up good numbers against righties, he could be a legitimate set-up man for the time being and an important piece throughout the season regardless.
2. Tellez, Garver & Bliss look lost at the plate. I mean, I could put a lot of guys on this list, but their at bats look the worst to me. At Least Bliss is playing serviceable defense in the meantime, and I have a (very small) sliver of hope that Garver can turn it around, but other than that— it doesn’t look good.
3. Muney, that sweet, sweet, adorable, sicko. We know what kind of Muney we’re getting that day after 2 pitches. Sometimes his control is just not there at all. Somehow, despite any shakiness, his stuff is just so off the charts nasty that he can houdini it on any given night. I love Muney, he might be my favorite M, and his cat is so adorably ugly, so I’ll probably talk about him alot, but man does he scare the absolute shit out of me.
One Central Take:
It’s not exactly the anemic offense in itself that is the most frustrating thing to suffer through when watching the 2025 Mariners so far— it’s the optics of watching the anemic offense struggle so badly. If I didn’t happen to watch every game and only checked the box score, I’d think “hmm, they are having a really hard time at the plate and pitching is keeping them in games”. But when you actually see the at bats they just look terrible. It’s an awful product to watch so far. If I was Nintendo, I’d be trying to get my patch deal back, because nobody can even begin to perceive the un-welcomed, red eyesores when such obviously terrible approaches are searing blindspots into all of our retinas.
But I mean it when I say a month. In the meantime, let’s talk soon.
Cheers,
Noah
Terrace Club Blues 