Word: griffey
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Better than his stats is his abandon, which belies the fact that superstardom is his birthright. "I still go out there reckless," Griffey told TIME last week. "That's how I play. I don't know any other way." Which is why so many legions, especially kids, love him: 4.2 million voted him onto the All-Star team this season; 1 million bought a candy bar named after him when it was introduced in 1989--despite the fact that it contained no nougat whatsoever...
...fans can be so overwhelming that at the end of Seattle home games, officials park his black Mercedes (license plate: SWINGMAN) just outside the Mariners' locker room for an Elvis-style getaway. As he gave an interview in front of his locker last week, Griffey affixed his signature to an endless flow of posters, caps and balls. Many were given to him by other players...
...just want people to treat me as a human being. When I leave the ball park and go home, I'm just Ken." And some topics are still off limits, no matter who the questioner. Before a game last week, seven-year-old Michael Foster spent an hour with Griffey through the Make-a-Wish Foundation, tossing a ball around and touring the clubhouse. But at one point, when Foster mustered the courage to ask, "Are you going to break the record?" Griffey responded with a shrug. Clearly, his no comments need some work...
Work he understands: Griffey outpractices everyone on his team. "He's the first one here every day," says Mariners' backup catcher John Marzano. "And the better he's hitting, the harder he works." Griffey brushes off such praise. "I've broken both my hands in the last three years--I don't have a choice but to take extra hitting," he says. "A lot of people forget that." Still, he is too proud and aware of his abilities not to believe he can accomplish more. Last year, for instance, a mild slump in June and July cost him a chance...
...Griffey professes modesty, and is admired by teammates for his selflessness, but he also has the swagger that seems required of men who would do what no one else can. "I just go out there and do what I'm supposed to do," he says. "If we need a home run to tie it up late, I've got to do it." Want proof? Before an at bat against Texas last week he revealed to a teammate that he was about to hit one out. He took two pitches and then sent the ball into the second deck. But there...