TORONTO — It came to this.

Finally, fatefully, after 49 years. After a nationally dismissed upstart in the Pacific Northwest went its first 14 seasons without a winning team. After Ken Griffey Jr. became iconic with a backwards cap and baseball’s sweetest swing. After Edgar Martinez drilled a double down the left field line, and Dave Niehaus’ call — “It just continues! My oh my!” — echoed for decades. After the Kingdome imploded on a sunny Sunday. After 116 wins, the greatest regular season this sport has ever seen. After a 21-year playoff drought inflicted devastating déjà vu. After Ichiro and Felix dragged an afflicted, oft-forgotten franchise through an endless abyss.

After a 15-inning gauntlet and a go-ahead grand slam.

It came to this, to Toronto, to a deciding seventh game.

To the edge of immortality, and the plummet back to Earth.

That plummet occurred in the seventh inning Monday, when Bryan Woo surrendered a leadoff walk to Addison Barger and a single to Isiah Kiner-Falefa. Rather than trusting closer Andrés Muñoz to protect a 3-1 lead, Mariners manager Dan Wilson turned to Eduard Bazardo.

Which is when disaster, and George Springer, struck.

Springer — a 36-year-old former Astro and Mariners foil — belted Bazardo’s 1-0 fastball into the left-field seats, repeatedly pumping his fist while racing around the bases. That swing, that pitch, that decision, was the devastating difference in the Blue Jays’ 4-3 win. It was the kind of sequence that sinks a season.

In the aftermath, Wilson said: “Bazardo has been the guy that's gotten us through those situations, those tight ones, especially in the pivot role, and that's where we were going at that point.”

Fans can, and will, dwell on the details. Like Wilson’s decision, a mistake that will fester in franchise infamy. Like the seven runners stranded, bricks slowly sealing Seattle’s tomb. Like the leads — 2-0 in the series, 3-2 heading to Toronto, 3-1 in the seventh inning with a pennant on the line — that were successively, devastatingly lost.

Like the fact that this franchise should finally be making its World Series debut against the Dodgers Friday.

“I love every guy in this room. But ultimately, it’s not what we wanted,” said Mariners catcher Cal Raleigh, his historic season sadly complete, eyes red and watering. “I hate to use the word failure, but it’s a failure. That’s what we expected, to get to a World Series and win a World Series. That’s what the bar is and the standard is and that’s what we want to hold ourselves accountable to.”

If that’s the standard, there have been 49 failures, none more excruciating than this — featuring a fumble feet from the goal line.

Because this season mattered. It mattered for fans who watched Hall of Famers and managers and too many falls come and go without a playoff win. For fathers and sons and mothers and daughters who bonded through baseball. For countless kids who recreated Raleigh’s swing in their backyard, who showed up to tee ball wearing No. 29. For the legion of soon-to-be lifelong Mariners fans who fell in love. For the honorary witches and dumpers and anyone in between. For all those who found community, who danced and hugged and dared to hope, at the corner of Edgar and Dave.

That hope led here. It came to this.

To an end you have to hope is the beginning.

“This is not the end,” said third baseman Eugenio Suárez, who went 1 for 4 in what could be the final game of his second Seattle stint. “I feel like the future for this organization is huge.”

Added center fielder Julio Rodríguez, who slashed a double and a solo homer but also struck out to end the game: “You can’t expect anything less for the team. After getting here, after knowing what we’re capable of, I feel like there’s no less than this for us.”

Right now, that’s empty, unsatisfying solace.

When it ended, cans of beer flew through the air, while the Blue Jays moshed amid the madness. Horns sounded and streams of smoke exploded from the center field fence. Raleigh sat and stared, devastation dawning on the possible MVP. Later, Suárez put both hands on Bazardo’s shoulders and whispered encouragement in a quiet clubhouse. Impending free agent Josh Naylor walked around the room, thanking every teammate. There were hugs and suitcases strewn on the floor, while loved ones waited in the tunnel outside.

Why does it hurt? Because seasons like this don’t happen here. That’s not hyperbole.

Until the Mariners drafted and developed one of baseball’s best starting rotations. Until Raleigh hit 65 home runs, the most in a regular and postseason in AL history. Until Woo lasted at least six innings in 25 consecutive starts. Until Seattle dealt for Naylor and Suárez at the trade deadline. Until Victor Robles soared to snag a liner and unseat the Astros. Until a million separate pieces all slid into place.

Even then, it’s not enough. Will it ever be?

It came to this, the same consuming question and a new plummet. A further fall than ever before. Another celebration at Seattle’s expense.

It had to be Springer. It had to happen in the most eternally tortuous way. It had to be the kind of devastating cruelty that leaves Raleigh — who had already homered — standing on deck.

Baseball, like life, isn’t fair.

But you already know that. You’re a Mariners fan.

____

© 2025 The Seattle Times. Visit www.seattletimes.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.