Tim OâBrien once wrote about what soldiers carryânot just backpacks or weapons, but invisible burdens that cling to their minds long after the war ends. Baseball isnât a battlefield. But for the Seattle Mariners of 2025, there are things they carry that still weigh inexplicably heavily.
That defeat doesnât go away. It stays.
At the end of October, during a postseason media meeting, the atmosphere should have been one of pride. The Mariners had gone further than any team in the clubâs history. But instead, the room was filled with a heavy silence. Eyes wet. Teeth clenched. The pain was still too fresh, too real to be called a âlesson.â
Three months passed, and the wound didnât disappearâit scabbed over. It became a sharp, cold anchor of motivation.
The first Fan Fest since 2019 was a celebration. Laughter, autographs, photos. But beneath that cheerful surface, the Mariners carry a unified feeling: the work isn’t over.
Cal Raleighânow almost an icon of the teamâis everywhere. The fans’ joy clashes with his pensive mood. A special season, indeed. But Raleigh speaks of it as a chapter closed, not to be forgotten, but to be continued.
âThe standards have to be set very high,â he says. âBecause thatâs where we want to goâthe World Series.â
George Kirby is straightforward. For him, what the Mariners achieved last year wasnât a ceiling, but a floor. Being eliminated while Toronto celebrated wasnât just a defeatâit was a fire burning deep in his stomach.
Josh Naylor speaks of the pain in a very different way. No dramatization. No avoidance. âIt wasnât meant for us,â he says. But that very acceptance carries a different energy: improving every day, 1% more, little by little. A pain transformed into discipline.
There’s one truth the Mariners don’t shy away from: the postseason experience changes you. George Kirby carries specific moments to dissect during the offseason. Emerson Hancock sees the bigger picture: 162 games is no longer a blur. Now they know what they’re suffering for.
But most importantly: this pain never completely disappears.
Julio RodrĂguez says it straight. It’s something you carry with you. A part of who you are. A memory that shapes how you approach the new season. Not to drag you downâbut to keep you grounded.
Even Cal Raleigh, with all his individual achievements, couldn’t shake off the feeling of “we had a real chance.” Whether they win a championship or not, that season will remain, like a small thorn in their memory.
Dan Wilson understands this better than anyone. Baseball is a sport of failure. And the Mariners understand that feeling of “so close, but not quite enough.” But that’s precisely what gives Wilson a unique position: turning disappointment into motivation, not hindrance.
The Mariners enter 2026 with higher expectations than any previous season. But this time, those expectations are backed by experience. No more ambiguity. No more naivety.
They know what the postseason looks like. They know how painful it is to lose.
And once you’ve tasted that, it’s hard to accept returning to normal life.
Leave a Reply