10/21/25: Cheers Darlin'

The 2025 Seattle Mariners’ story is going to age very well. In a few weeks or months the image of Cal Raleigh’s 60th home run screaming over the right field wall, seconds after a sold out crowd stood on its feet chanting “M-V-P’, as the team clinched their first division title in 24 years will glow with a welcome warmth in the cold dead of winter. The sound of Julio’s 8th inning line drive finding grass in Game 2 of the ALDS, putting my arm around my son, and being there to see the team’s first home playoff win in a generation is going to bring me joy the rest of my life.

It was the most fun I’ve had with baseball in decades. My overriding sense, at the moment tucked way back and very safe from the front and center emotions of pain, frustration, sadness, and anger at last night’s 4-3 loss, is one of deep gratitude that I got to experience this year, and that it was timed such that I was able to share it with my son. I will never, ever, ever, forget our journey with the 2025 Seattle Mariners.

It’s all gratefulness, in the end. Grateful for the season, grateful for all of you for reading this newsletter all season and making it such a fun project. Grateful to the players - Cal Raleigh and Julio Rodriguez specifically - for some of the greatest baseball ever played by guys in the uniform. Weighed and measured objectively the scales of the season will not just tilt towards the positive, they will do so with such force that the scale smashes through the floor, potentially resulting in some significant structural damage. But, like, in a good way.

I’ll probably write about all that - the wonderful histories, the heroic performances, and the ways it introduced a new generation of fans to the narcotic-like high all of us old heads have been clamoring for all this time - as the offseason progresses. Today, though, I can’t do it.

Today I need to be mad.

We’ve gotta be able to call it for what it was: The way Dan Wilson managed the seventh inning of last night’s Game 7 was a disaster. The Mariners entered the inning nine outs from their first-ever World Series. Bryan Woo was on his third inning of work, on two days’ rest, after not pitching for a month. Only after a leadoff walk was followed by a single did Pete Woodworth run to the mound to allow time for a reliever to warm up. The lack of preparation was (and is) completely baffling. A manager is supposed to be constantly planning 1-2 moves ahead. Like so many times this season, Dan Wilson felt a move behind.

When the call to pull Woo finally came, it was for Eduard Bazardo. In the continued interest of being fair we must continue being honest: Bazardo was absolutely fantastic in 2025, and one of the best stories on the pitching side. All season long, in every possible circumstance and role imaginable - especially in the first half of the year as Seattle’s rotation imploded with injuries - Bazardo took the ball. The 2025 Mariners would have never made it to Game 7 of the ALCS without Eduard Bazardo.

He also isn’t the team’s best reliever. He’s not their second-best reliever. I thought Joe Posnasnki broke it down well this morning. Of all the possible options you had in that moment Dan Wilson (and/or whoever influences these kinds of decisions in the org) quite possibly chose the very worst one. Two pitches later George Springer’s fly ball soared through the air. I imagine Andres Munoz had a good view of it landing from his seat in the bullpen.

It’s the simple statements that hurt in these moments. The Mariners were nine outs away from their first-ever World Series appearance and their best reliever never pitched with the lead. Munoz was being saved for the game Dan Wilson wanted, not being properly utilized for the game he got. It was the kind of rigid, role-focused bullpen usage we saw all season, and it cost them dearly at the absolute worst moment.

Where do we go from here? I can’t even begin to think clearly about it. I never thought Wilson had any business managing a big league clubhouse when he was hired, so I won’t pretend to be unbiased here. Given enough time he could grow into the position, much like his predecessor Scott Servais did. But this is not a team or roster that should be waiting on growth. This was a team that could have won a World Series. They could win a World Series next year, too. They and we deserve to have the team managed by someone who gives them the very best chance of doing so.

The Mariners have had five teams I think you can credibly argue were true contenders: 1995, 1997, 2000, 2001, and 2025. Every single one of those seasons has featured all-time heroic performances by the greatest players in franchise history, and I can make a good case that Dan Wilson has played a major role in keeping all of them from reaching the final mountaintop. His presence here feels inspired by nothing more than equal parts nostalgia and limited imagination.

I’m sure he is a very nice man. Everyone says so. I have no interest in arguing otherwise. I also have no interest in watching him manage another game for my team. Every season has moments of “what ifs” but it should not be so easy to draw a straight line from where the season ended to the tactical shortcomings of your team’s manager.

Next season should be treated by everyone in this organization as World Series or bust. Cal Raleigh already said that’s the goal. Julio’s primal scream said the same thing. Dan Wilson was not good enough this year to manage a team with those kinds of expectations, and we don’t have time to find out if he can be next year.

***

That’s going to be it for the newsletter this week. Next week we’ll try to put a capper on the season, which truly has been one of the greatest in Mariner history. Thank you so much for reading The Light Bat all season. I hope you’ve found it an additive to your baseball experience.

See y’all in a few days. Goms.