A’s spoil Mariners’ King Felix celebration

SEATTLE — On a night when it supposed to be about him, Felix Hernandez, of course, made it about them.

Why? Because that’s who he has always been since he first put on a Seattle Mariners uniform. And it was going to stay that way until the final pitch of his final start Thursday night at T-Mobile Park.

The 3-1 defeat against the A’s will be forgotten within days. The overwhelming memories elicited by Hernandez in his 15 seasons with the Mariners and the heartfelt goodbye will remain.

For as much as his overwhelming natural talent and a right arm touched by the baseball gods carried him to elite heights in this game, he never forgot to take the fans of Seattle on that ride, knowing they pushed him higher than he could have imagined. They had always been in this together from his days as a chubby phenom through an unbelievable run of excellence and even in a painful and regrettable decline. Theirs was an imperfect relationship that grew through the victories and brilliant performances while sustaining through the frustration and so very many defeats and wasted opportunities.

This game was about them all — Hernandez and the 20,921 fans in attendance, the others watching on television and anyone who wore his No. 34 jersey or even once chanted his name.

This was his last game in front of them and he was going to make sure they all knew just how much each and every fan meant to him.

From the time he emerged from the Mariners’ bullpen, with Aloe Blacc’s “The

Man” blaring and everyone in attendance cheering, to when he left the field with one out in the sixth inning where the raw emotion of sadness and the realization this was the end left him in tears, Hernandez never forgot to acknowledge those that came to see him one last time.

For a generation of fans that endured the Mariners putting a subpar product on the field, Hernandez gave them hope every fifth day. “Happy Felix Day!” may have been tag line used by the Mariners, blogs and social media. But it was the reality. When he was right, and he was on the mound, well, the Mariners were a better team than the other four games in between.

On a night where emotions ran high, the catharsis came after Hernandez got Robbie

Grossman to line out to center. With his pitch count at 106, manager Scott Servais walked on to the field to tell Hernandez he was done.

Goodbye was here. Hernandez handed him the ball. Servais held the ball in Hernandez hands. Theirs was a complicated and at times strained relationship, but on this night none of it mattered. The two men hugged. Hernandez then turned to Kyle Seager his longest remaining teammate on the team. They held an extended embrace. Once a wide-eyed rookie intimidated by the Hernandez’s talent and presence, Seager was the only player that saw Hernandez at his best. And now he wouldn’t see him anymore.

“I had never seen someone dominate hitters the way he was dominating at any level,” Seager said. “I never saw someone dominate high school. I never saw someone dominate college the way he was dominating the MLB. You run into a few guys over the course of time of your career that are just different, and he was one of them.”

After hugging the rest of the infield, the inevitable walk to the dugout remained. He raised his hands to thank the crowd. It was all too much for him. Tears flowed. Goodbye hurt.

But he wasn’t done with them. After hugging everyone possible in the dugout, and at the crowd’s manic urging, he exploded from the dugout for a curtain call. Both hands up, he waved to everyone and then gave prolonged point to the King’s Court, then tapping his heart.

The results were familiar — 5 1/3 innings pitched, three runs allowed on five hits with four walks and three strikeouts. His legacy wasn’t defined by this final game or its results. It was as much about celebration as a competition. Although Hernandez of course expected to do better.