The greatest pitcher in Seattle Mariners history has retired.  Randy Johnson announced the other day in a conference call that he was hanging ‘em up after over two decades of greatness.  He means a lot to all Mariner fans, so I thought it would be good to open up a post for everyone to reminisce, starting with a few of the PBNW writers. Also, check out Matthew Carruth’s great post on the subject over at Lookout Landing.

I can’t imagine what it would mean to have watched the Big Unit over the course of his entire Mariner tenure.  I was lucky enough to catch the last couple of seasons, and that was special enough.  I’m young enough that I certainly do not recall the 1990 no hitter, and the memories of 1995 are fuzzy at best.  But I do remember watching him pitch at the Kingdome on Opening Day 1998, and how he was a larger than life giant even from the nosebleeds.  I remember watching the 19 strikeout performance (and corresponding Mark McGwire blast) on TV the season prior.  I remember the iconic scowl, the power mullet and the way he would tower above Dan Wilson when the two had discussions on the mound.  I remember feeling bewildered whenever he pitched and the Mariners lost.   I remember hitters swinging half a second late at the fastball and righties getting hit on the back toe by sliders at which they swung and missed.  And I remember being absolutely distraught– hysterical even– when I found out late one night that the Mariners had traded him.  As a young Mariner fan with zero knowledge of the bumpy relationship between Unit and team and his impending free agency, I was heartbroken.

But since I don’t recall as much of his Mariners career as I’d like to, I’ll hand over the mic to a couple guys with a little more scope…

Scott:

When the 1995 Mariners were set to complete their miraculous run to the playoffs, I was 12 years old. All that stood between the Mariners and their first playoff berth was a one game playoff against the Angels – and it was happening on a school day, in the middle of the day, no less. Classes stopped, classroom TVs were turned on, even in my elementary school. The entire city put their lives on pause for one historic afternoon. Even at 12, there were a few things I understood. I understood that this was a historic game, and I understood that we were going to win. Because after all, we had Randy Johnson.

I always loved Randy Johnson – I loved his nasty hair, I loved his giant, awkward presence, I loved Mr. Snappy. Little Big League, my favorite movie as a kid, featured Randy Johnson coming in to close out the Twins in a rare relief appearance, and even though young Twins manager Billy Heywood was essentially the childhood version of me, I rooted against the Twins every time I watched the movie and Randy came in. Randy was the greatest Mariners pitcher ever, and I knew how good he was. But did I, really? Even as a stat-obsessed pre-teen, spending countless hours a day comparing the backs of baseball cards, I don’t think I ever really appreciated just how dominant Randy really was.

In that 1995 season, Randy Johnson put together a staggering 12.34 K/9 ratio – at the time, it was the greatest ever. 1995 was spectacular in more ways than one – while we were all caught up in “Refuse to Lose,” the most dominant strikeout season ever was unfolding before our eyes. If you look at the top 10 K/9 single season leaders on Baseball Reference, there are 3 pitchers in the top 10. Randy Johnson, Kerry Wood, and Pedro Martinez. Randy Johnson holds 7 of the top 10 seasons. SEVEN. Nolan Ryan holds zero.

Randy Johnson is the greatest strikeout pitcher to ever play the game, period. Others may have struck out more, but it took a whole lot more innings. Pitch for pitch, there has never been anyone better. And we were lucky enough to watch him grow and blossom from a raw, talented pitcher to one of the greatest of all time. So thanks for 1995, thanks for all the other years, and thanks for closing out the Twins in Little Big League. Lou Collins got to marry Billy’s mom anyways.

Conor:

Randy Johnson was, in a nutshell, the single most exciting player to watch on the team in the 90′s. Yeah, watching Griffey, Edgar, Buhner, Dan Wilson, and A-Rod was a blast, but watching Randy? Watching the Big Unit was just plain fun. You never knew when Mr. Snappy would show up, or where on earth that ball would go when he did. No ankles, wrists, or helmets were safe when Randy was on the mound, and when he got that almost feral little grin up there, even the top sluggers of the era hesitated to step into the box.

On top of all that unpredictable fun, though, Randy was simply dominant, often putting the team on his massive shoulders and willing them to victory after victory. Few images will stick in my mind more than him pointing straight up at the top of the Kingdome in sheer exultation after striking out the last Angel in the ’95 tiebreaker game, a game that he dominated from start to finish, and was a sign to come of his own remarkable postseason.

The Big Unit did as much to bring the Mariners to the forefront of the baseball world as any other member of that team, and he helped shape the image of the organization in such a way that his presence and impact were felt long after the unfortunately bitter split with the team that lead to his trade to Houston. Even with that contentious separation, the Big Unit is the player above all others who I have rooted heartily for, even as a Yankee.

Randy Johnson is a legendary figure in baseball history, and I will watch his Hall of Fame induction ceremony in five years with a smile on my face and a tear in my eye.