For years, the Seattle Mariners were a story about what didn’t happen. Today, the verbs changed. They pitch, they hit, they hold their nerve — and the World Series isn’t a myth anymore; it’s an exit sign glowing at the end of the concourse.
It’s the payoff after years of heartbreak dressed up as hope. And it’s not just for the guys on the field right now. It’s for the ones who carried the franchise through droughts and dark seasons, when the lights stayed on anyway. This run isn’t only a shot at history; it’s a nod to every star who laid brick after brick without ever touching the reward, every fan who stuck out those July extra-inning losses, every jersey worn thin but never retired to the bin.