A memorable homecoming

After spending the previous six days in Seattle I can report three things with absolute certainty:

1. The city is visibly bubbling with enthusiasm for the Mariners;

2. Stone-fruit season might be what I miss most about living there;

3. If it’s not stone fruit, then it’s touchstones like one very special restaurant.

We’re going to start with the last thing first.

On Tuesday, I took Sharon to Canlis.

We had gone to that same restaurant 24 years earlier for the same occasion: her birthday.

For this story to make sense, you’ll need to understand that Canlis embodies fine dining in Seattle. I’m not saying it’s the nicest restaurant in the city. I’m not saying it serves the best food. There are lots of incredible spots in that city, a wealth of truly marvelous food.

What Canlis is, however, is a Seattle institution, now in its 75th year. It is unapologetically a fine-dining restaurant with impeccable service and tremendous views of Lake Union. It is simply a Seattle classic.

When I took Sharon there for the first time, I wouldn’t say she was resistant or reluctant, but she was somewhat restrained, perhaps even leery.

When this story of our first dinner at Canlis gets told—as it was a couple of times this past week—I have a tendency to tease Sharon that she wasn’t sure I was boyfriend material. We were just dating at the time. There was no formal relationship. We hadn’t even had the awkward conversation about whether we were still seeing other people. As a result, perhaps she was a little hesitant about having me spring for a dinner at The Big Fancy Restaurant.

She plays along with this re-telling, bringing up the cost and pointing out she suggested a half-bottle of wine when I tried to select a full bottle in part because she knew how much (or more accurately how little) money I was making at the time.

At the time, I was aware of a whole host of things that might be working against a long-term relationship from my schedule as a high-school sports reporter to my tendency to wear baseball caps to the fact I drove a small red truck with a bench seat and a Wu-Tang Clan sticker in the window.

I had made the decision, though, that if things didn’t pan out with Sharon, it wasn’t going to be due to a lack of interest or follow-through on my part. I was shooting my shot as the kids now say.

That first dinner at Canlis has become a really fun part of our shared history.

What I remember about that first dinner date to Canlis was the way one of my co-workers named Craig Smith looked me up and down after I told him where I was going. Now I was wearing slacks, a dress shirt and leather shoes, which constituted a significant upgrade from my regular attire. Not enough of an upgrade, however.

“It’s Canlis,” Craig said. “You wear a jacket.”

I went home and changed. I put on the one sports jacket I had, and while I realize now how ugly that jacket was, I was 26 felt like a full-fledged grown-up for perhaps the first time in my life as I picked her up and we drove to this restaurant tucked away on the northeast slope of Queen Anne Hill.

The one we went back to last Tuesday.

Things have changed a bit since then. Canlis no longer seats diners on the same side of the table. They currently offer a fixed-price three-course meal. You can still get the salad prepared tableside, however.

When we went there on Tuesday, I thought about that young man who was taking his date there back in 2001 and I smiled at the fact we found our way back there at the age of 50.

I have spent the three days since J.P. Crawford hit that two-run homer in the bottom of the ninth trying to think of a more thrilling Mariner moment that I witnessed in person.

It seems to me there must be one.

I’ve been watching the Mariners for an awful long time.

I lived in Seattle in 1995, after all. And I was at a number of games in 2001, including five in the postseason, one vs. Cleveland and four vs. the Yankees.

The immediate reference point is Cal Raleigh’s ninth-inning homer in 2022, which ended the Mariners’ 21-year postseason draught:

Now, I wasn’t in attendance for that. I was watching on TV, and I feel compelled to point out that the score was tied 1-1 when Raleigh homered, meaning the worst-case scenario for Seattle was extra innings. Similarly, even if the Mariners had lost the game, they had two more days to clinch a playoff spot.

OK, now that I’m done trying to poo-poo the significance of a playoff-clinching walk-off homer hit on Sept. 30, 2022, let me start crowing about the potential importance of Crawford’s game-clinching two-run shot hit on Aug. 1, 2025.

• It was freaking awesome.

• I was sitting next to Jessamyn McIntyre and Dave Wyman when Crawford turned on a 2-0 offering from the Rangers closer and hit an absolute laser to right-center. In fact, Jess recorded the moment.

jessamynmc

1,513 followers

View more on Instagram

It wasn’t just the fact that one swing turned what would have been a one-run loss into a one-run victory.

It’s whose swing it was. Crawford is one of my two favorite Mariners to watch, largely because of the style and swagger he plays with.

Crawford knew he’d homered. He watched it from the batter’s box, turned toward the Mariners dugout and flipped his bat and then spiked his batting helmet in what was nothing short of an exclamation point before trotting around the bases, knowing what was waiting for him at home plate.

I’ve been watching Mariners baseball for too long to tell you I’m confident that Seattle will wind up in the playoffs even after the deadline acquisitions.

I’ve also been watching Mariners baseball so long that I can tell you I’m going to celebrate these moments when we get them, and after attending three of the four games the Mariners played against the Rangers, I can tell you that I’m sharing Seattle’s enthusiasm for what comes next.