I can still remember the last time the Seattle Mariners made it to the American League Championship Series (ALCS), back in 2001 after an historic 116 win season. Our rookie sensation, Ichiro Suzuki, was also coming off an historic individual season of his own after being named the American League’s Most Valuable Player and Rookie of the Year.
Yeah, that was a great season for Seattle baseball fans. I was only 16-years-old at the time. But little did I know that I’d be waiting until I was 40 to feel that excitement for my hometown team again.
This season, behind the outstanding play of Cal Raleigh and Julio Rodriguez’s leadership, our boys won the AL West and were only eight outs away from taking the city to our first World Series appearance ever.
Eight outs. We were only eight outs away from the Pennant before George Springer of the Toronto Blue Jays shattered our dreams with just one swing of his bat in the bottom of the 7th of a decisive Game 7.
You know the saying: “It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”
Damn, it’s hard being a Mariners fan.
I feel silly even admitting this, but I was really sad after we were eliminated from the postseason this year. And while this sadness was probably triggered by the shortcomings of our baseball team, I realized that there’s a lot more to it than just baseball.
You see, in prison, part of your survival is learning how to not feel. To forget about what’s happening outside these walls and focus on what’s in front of you — your safety. Well, safety AND danger. For me, after nearly 16 years of being incarcerated at various correctional facilities around the state that are nowhere near Seattle, this numbing part of survival has become visceral.
For many of us, what memories we have left of home become too painful to hold onto, so it becomes easier to just disconnect. However, one way we try to cope with our reality is through our sports teams. It’s through these players whom we don’t even know, yet who feel like family, that somehow keep us connected to our city… our community.
So, as our squad was battling through the postseason, their success somehow gave us the permission to feel again. To remember home.
One night, after watching a miraculous Game 5 win against the Detroit Tigers, I was overcome with joy. A joy I haven’t felt in a very long time. But that joy was also accompanied by a bit of sorrow—as it usually is. Because while I was elated with our win, I couldn’t help but think of how happy my uncle Chongrack would’ve been if he were still alive with us today. And my heart ached as I stared at the tattoo on my arm which memorializes my best friend Jason who was murdered in 2017. I can still remember his smiling face wearing his usual blue Mariners cap. He would’ve loved this season…
In some weird way, this playoff run reconnected all of us again. Because I know they were both on the edge of their seats looking down on us.
Prison has a weird way of forcing you to forget where you came from. Of cruelly stripping you of your identity. The Mariners this season was that reminder we all needed. In a real Seattle type of way, they were the resistance. And although our season ended in sadness, it was that sadness that poetically led us back to home base. And for that, this was our greatest season ever! And the Mariners will forever be the greatest team… well, y’all know what I mean!
Free Palestine!
Until next time, keep dreaming!
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Felix Sitthivong is an incarcerated storyteller, community organizer, and founding member of the Peoples’ Empowerment Assembly for Collective Equity (PEACE). Sitthivong is also the former president and senior advisor for the Asian Pacific Islander Cultural Awareness Group (APICAG). He is currently serving a 66-year sentence at the Washington Corrections Center in Shelton, WA. Reach him with questions for “On the Fence Line” via Securus (WA #354579) or write to him at Felix Sitthivong #354579, PO BOX 900, Shelton, WA 98584.
Felix Sitthivong is an incarcerated storyteller, community organizer, and founding member of the Peoples’ Empowerment Assembly for Collective Equity (PEACE). Sitthivong is also the former president and senior advisor for the Asian Pacific Islander Cultural Awareness Group (APICAG). He is currently serving a 66-year sentence at the Washington Corrections Center in Shelton, WA. Reach him with questions for “On the Fence Line” via Securus (WA #354579) or write to him at Felix Sitthivong #354579, PO BOX 900, Shelton, WA 98584.
