[Hendu Style]

Sam Arkwright Diary
September 30th, 2022

I have timed much of my trip with certain milestones and records in mind. I plan on being in St. Louis for Albert Pujols and his last regular season game at Busch Stadium. And New York for Aaron Judge’s last game of the year, to see if he can tack on one last home run. But some of it has been just pure luck. Like what happened last night in Seattle.

It’s hard to believe the last time the Mariners were in the postseason, I was a 21 year old kid. There was no theme park, zoo, or independent league team in Boulder City. Sol HQ hadn’t even been constructed. My video game studio was in a small office, with just me and a handful of employees.

Baseball in 2001 wasn’t lacking in star power or storylines. Barry Bonds broke Mark McGwire’s single season home run record. The A’s were a powerhouse, riding the bats of Jason Giambi, Miguel Tejada, and Eric Chavez, and the arms of Tim Hudson, Barry Zito, and Mark Mulder. This was just before free agency started gutting their roster, setting the stage for the Moneyball Era. Meanwhile the Yankees were the sentimental favorite as the world rallied around New York City after the September 11th attacks. And somewhere in the middle of all this, the Seattle Mariners were quietly racking up wins at a record pace.

Ken Griffey Jr., Randy Johnson, and Alex Rodriguez were out of town, either by trade or free agency. But future Hall of Famer Edgar Martinez remained. So did a Japanese sensation by the name of Ichiro Suzuki. The Mariners that year won an American League record 116 games (tied with the 1906 Chicago Cubs for the most in MLB history). It felt like the start of something very special. Little did we know, it would be the M’s last playoff season in two decades.

That all changed tonight. The Baltimore Orioles had defeated the New York Yankees earlier in the day, so the Mariners magic number remained at 1 to clinch a Wild Card in the American League playoffs.

I arrived at Sea-Tac (Seattle-Tacoma International Airport) just before 5pm and took the Link Light Rail to the stadium. Seattle traffic is notoriously bad, and I take public transportation whenever I can. I’m glad I did. Several other air travelers were on the Link at the start of the line. Then as we continued the 38-minute ride, more and more Mariner fans would get on board with every stop. Tukwila. Rainier Beach. Mount Baker. Beacon Hill. By the time we reached SoDo, the seats were long gone. It was packed. Chants of “Let’s Go, Mariners!” filled the train. The chants and buzz only grew as we all spilled out at our stop near T-Mobile Park.

It seemed like every single resident of Seattle was wearing a Mariner jersey. Rodriguez #44. France #23. Haniger #17. But most of the jerseys were classics from the late 1990’s and early 2000’s. Ichiro #57. Griffey #24. Martinez #11. They’ve been waiting a long time for this. I got caught up in the playoff fever and stood in line at the Mariners team store. I came back out wearing #44.

Believe it or not, the Mariners were at one point owned by Nintendo. Before we built the Arkade console, we were a video game company. So we made games for PC, PlayStation, Xbox, Sega, and Nintendo. Trips to the Pacific Northwest were frequent for face-to-face meetings with Nintendo of America, based in Redmond. Occasionally the Nintendo executives would wine and dine me, and knowing my love for baseball, they’d take me to what used to be known as Safeco Field.

As generous as Nintendo was a host, they were absolute tyrants when it came to terms of the deal. Nintendo has always been extremely hands-on in its dealings with third-party developers, wanting final say in branding and tone of the game, while giving a very small return in profits. It’s why I ultimately decided to create my own console. I hated having my creative and fiscal independence chipped away by other companies, especially Nintendo.

We still maintained a cordial relationship after I started making the Arkade. That was aided by my decision to continue to make games to be played across all platforms. As far as the baseball team goes, Nintendo sold its controlling interest in the Mariners in 2016, retaining just a 10% stake in the club. Control of the team went to John Stanton, a Seattle billionaire with stakes in wireless companies, Columbia Sportswear, Costco, and Microsoft, and board seats to go with it.

When I told the Mariners that I was interested in visiting their ballpark, they invited me to the owner’s box. Little did any of us know, they would be attempting to make baseball history tonight. The suite was jam-packed when I arrived half an hour before game time. I almost turned right back around and left, until a stranger politely stepped in front of me and introduced himself. His name was Hirayama Yamauchi. The grandson of the late, former President of Nintendo, Hiroshi Yamauchi. He proudly told me how his grandfather saved the Mariners by purchasing the team in the early 1990’s. He also told me how his grandfather never once attended a Mariner game -- talk about an absentee owner. But he also told me how Yamauchi's ownership of the Mariners opened the door to Japanese players coming to America, from Ichiro to Shohei Ohtani.

I asked Hirayama if I could record our conversation, but he politely told me no. He continued on, saying he had come all the way from Japan when he heard I would be at the game. Apparently he’s a mid-level executive now at Nintendo, hoping to keep the Yamauchi name linked to the video game company for at least another generation. He asked me about my company, and he was genuinely amazed to learn that I still do much of the work myself. No board meetings. No corporate red tape. The anti-Nintendo.

By the time our conversation started winding down, Ty France had hit an RBI double in the 1st to give the M’s a 1-0 lead, only to have Shane Langeliers tie it up with a solo homer for the A’s in the 2nd. Yamauchi excused himself shortly after, and I was ready to follow suit until John Stanton himself gave me a firm pat on the back and introduced himself. Unlike Yamauchi, Stanton had no questions for me about video games. He was only interested in hearing about the Angels, and how much I thought they might go for. It’s a recurring theme in the MLB owners fraternity. They want to know what another team is worth, so they know how much they could make by selling their own team someday.

I eventually escaped the owner’s suite, but then saw a familiar face jump on the elevator with me at the last moment. It was A’s President Dave Kaval.

We exchanged pleasantries, but I soon got the distinct impression this meeting wasn’t by chance. Kaval said that the deal to send the A’s to Las Vegas was in danger. He said another anonymous party was moving in, and was jeopardizing the acquisition of the Tropicana property on the Strip. Of course, I already knew all of this. What I didn’t know, though, was that Fisher was now acting erratically, and that Kaval feared he might do something rash. I couldn’t quite tell if Kaval was delivering this news as an ally of Fisher, or as a favor to me. Kaval pleaded with me to meet with Fisher and to try and talk some sense into him. I told him to arrange a meeting with Fisher for Saturday evening.

When Kaval left, I looked for a place the sit. There wasn’t an empty seat to be found. 44,754 fans were on hand. Some young. Some old enough to remember the last time there was a playoff team in this park. I finally found a solitary seat in Section 344 and sat next to a kid named Colin. He couldn’t have been more than 25 years old. Which means he never saw the Mariners in the playoffs. For all the years of Felix Hernandez, Kyle Seager, and Raul Ibanez, those guys never got to experience postseason baseball in Seattle. Colin told me he spent $400 on his upper deck ticket, which was probably about half a work week for him. I bought the kid to some ballpark food — garlic fries, chicken strips, and an overpriced beer.

So there we were, me and Colin, watching what he described as a very Mariner-like game. A 1-1 tie. It remained that way until the bottom of the 9th inning. Cal Raleigh pinch hit for Luis Torrens with two outs. He worked the count full against Oakland reliever Domingo Acevedo. And then he got a hold of one, pulling a pitch to right, hugging the first base line. It kept getting higher and higher... and then... gone. Home run. Mariners win, 2-1. My, oh my.

I looked over to my left. Colin was back in his seat, while everyone else in Seattle was jumping up and down. His face buried in his hands. He was crying. He then stood up and gave out a guttural scream. We’d known each other for only a couple hours, but that didn’t matter. He gave me a big hug, and neither of us could stop smiling.

I did some detective work once I got back to the plane. It may or may not have involved hacking several secondary market ticket sites. But eventually I found the kid’s full name and address, and had an Arkade console overnighted to his apartment.

As for me, I'm overnighting myself to the Bay Area. I’ve got a big day tomorrow in California.

Pictured: T-Mobile Park