From Seattle’s perspective, everything seemed perfectly logical. Eugenio Suárez was a familiar face, “Geno” with the energy of a grown-up in the locker room, someone the Mariners knew inside and out, from his personality to his daily routine. A reunion, emotionally, would almost certainly require little persuasion.
But baseball isn’t just about emotions. And if you shift the camera to Suárez, the story immediately changes.
The problem wasn’t with the Mariners. The problem was with… T-Mobile Park.
Looking at Suárez’s field statistics, the difference was too obvious to ignore. At Great American Ball Park, he was the kind of player teams were willing to pay for: 0PS .851, 101 home runs, shots delivered with confidence and initiative. At Chase Field, things were even smoother: 0PS .928, 47 home runs, the bat felt light and comfortable.
Then came Seattle—and the story took a jab.
At T-Mobile Park, Suárez only achieved an OPS of .717 with 35 home runs. But the worrying detail wasn’t the decreased power, but the way he… didn’t see the ball as he used to. Suárez’s strikeout rate there soared to 31.2%—the highest of all the courses where he had more than 200 plate appearances. No other course caused him to whiff that much.
This wasn’t a matter of “up and down form.” It was the environment.
T-Mobile Park has long had a reputation for turning good swings into frustrating at-bats. Marine air, unsteady ball trajectories, a batter’s eye malfunction, changing lighting throughout the day—all creating an environment that not every hitter can adapt to. And there are players, no matter how good, who always look… stiff there.
Suárez might be one of them.
The Mariners had accepted this “friction” in 2022 and 2023 because Geno brought other values: leadership, overall power, and relative stability. But then last season’s numbers came up as an undeniable warning: an OPS of .479 in Seattle. That wasn’t just bad—it was a sign of a hitter genuinely struggling with his surroundings.
And if you put yourself in Suárez’s shoes, it means something very different. He’s in the latter half of his career, where every decision is aimed at maximizing his remaining years. If you’ve been in a place that makes you “press,” where the same contact dies on the warning track, you won’t easily willingly return—unless everything is truly perfect.
Nostalgia doesn’t get you to win the World Series. And Geno understands that.
A reunion might become inevitable as the market shrinks. But from Suárez’s perspective, the numbers speak for themselves: if he wants to replicate the success he achieved in Cincinnati and Arizona, returning to T-Mobile Park might be the hardest path to take.
And sometimes, saying “no” politely…is the wisest decision.
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