Griffey's new contract proves it wasn't about money

We have heard it too many times, particularly in baseball, which has endured free agency for a quarter of a century now. So when Ken Griffey Jr. announced in November that he was seeking a trade, that he was not interested in signing an eight-year, $148 million extension with Seattle, and that this wasn't about the money, well . . .

You thought it was about the money, too, didn't you?

Griffey proved us all wrong. The best player in baseball, the man who will challenge Willie Mays for the crown of greatest all-around outfielder ever to play the game, got his wish last Thursday when he became a Cincinnati Red.

What stunned us all wasn't so much the pathetic-looking package the Seattle Mariners accepted in exchange. Actually, the Mariners may come out of this thing in pretty fair shape.

No, the shocker was the nine-year, $116.5 million contract Griffey accepted to accommodate the Reds' small-market budget. This is not even close to the $15 million per year that the Dodgers' Kevin Brown averages. It's not in the same ballpark with the $140 million over eight years that Juan Gonzalez has reportedly been offered by Detroit.

Griffey emerges from this strange off-season saga a hero. The players' union, which owns a winning streak even Tiger Woods would envy, took one square on the chin this week. Griffey actually lowered the bar for future superstar signings.

And while it has been written and said that Griffey put the Mariners in an untenable position, that he held them hostage by refusing to accept a trade anywhere be-

sides Cincinnati, he could have behaved much worse. Most superstars do.

The time-honored tradition is to play out your contract, then move on to the highest bidder as a free agent. Had Griffey done as hundreds have before him, he would have bolted the Mariners after the coming season and left them with nothing but a draft pick in return.

Seattle's other superstar, shortstop Alex Rodriguez, is threatening to do exactly that after the 2000 season. It's really his refusal to listen to any extension proposals that forced the Mariners' hand with Griffey. The club couldn't afford to lose both next winter.

Why paint Griffey as the guy in the black hat just because he wanted to wear a red one? He grew up in Cincinnati, watching his father play for the Reds. Now the batting coach, Ken Sr., almost certainly will be his son's manager within a couple of seasons.

Why doesn't Griffey deserve that? Free agency should be about something beyond selling yourself to the team with the best local TV revenue package. If it can be about going home and accepting far below market value in order to achieve that goal, then let's embrace it.

Griffey is often given credit for having saved baseball in Seattle. That's not a stretch, given how fans had abandoned the Kingdome in the early '90s until he became the game's brightest star.

Anyone who says he just killed it in Seattle isn't paying attention. The Mariners added Brett Tomko, another power pitcher, to their impressive starting staff. They added Mike Cameron, one of only two NL outfielders to hit 20 home runs and steal 30 bases in 1999.

And they added a promising minor league prospect in second baseman Antonio Perez.

That's comparable to the bulk of the package (Gabe Kapler-Justin Thompson-Francisco Cordero) the Rangers received from Detroit for Gonzalez.

The Mariners are determined to break the Rangers' lock on the AL West title by building a strong pitching staff in their new pitcher-friendly ballpark. Even if their lineup took an enormous hit this week, their staff, which already had added Rangers-ex Aaron Sele, got even better.

Griffey didn't destroy anything in Seattle, and he just may have helped save baseball from destroying itself with escalating salaries. He could have become baseball's first $20 million a year player had he held an auction for his services next winter.

Instead, he will average less than Shawn Green.

Griffey doesn't care. This wasn't about the money. It was about a dream a kid had of playing for his dad in a town where he first learned to love the game.

Is that really so awful?