The news of Ken Griffey Jr.'s 600th home run was already covered here and elsewhere today, but I never really got to have my moment of earnest sincerity about the moment.
Because I grew up a Mariners fan who lived nowhere near the Northwest (and we didn't have cable and the Internet didn't exist), I got my sports information from three places: box scores, baseball cards, and Sports Illustrated. Of course, I lived on the East Coast, so all the M's box scores were two-day-old "late" games, and until Ken Griffey came along, there wasn't really such a thing as Mariners news in SI or a cherished M's baseball card (Mark Langston? Alvin Davis? Oy.). This SI cover was a watershed for a young Seattle fan like myself: someone on the Mariners actually mattered.
You know the rest of the story: back-to-back home runs with his dad, the 1995 playoff run that saved baseball in Seattle, a return home to Cincy, and about 70-odd injuries along the way. Most people forget or don't realize that he didn't win the Rookie of the Year his first season because a broken hand limited him to 16 HR, 16 SB, 64 runs, and 64 RBI. Yes, I have those numbers memorized.
Anyway, congratulations, Ken. It's good to see a class act still do things the right way. Now if you'll excuse me, I have crude humor to attend to. This smut won't peddle itself, you know.