Ken Griffey Jr. became a star in Seattle. Is his career over?
(Creative Commons licensed)

So which one is it, Junior? Are you going to come back for just one more year? Or are you just going to agonize the city of Seattle with the possibility that you might come back in one more triumph.

When you left us for Cincinnati--after 11 great seasons, ten Gold Gloves and an MVP award--citing the need to be closer to family, we were hurt, damaged and confused.

"We built you a state of the art stadium and you left," said a one-time Ken Griffey Jr. fan. You left us obviously not for the fame, but rather for the dramatic effect you knew it would have on our city. You waved good-bye just before our amazing 116 win season. Before you got old, fat and slow. We can't blame you for all of that.
 
But then you started to toy with us. You told us you might be back in Seattle, for one, or even more, seasons. We started to get our hopes up. We could have The Kid back, after nine seasons away. After our miserable 2008 season, this is just what Mariners fans wanted to hear. We could already hear a packed Kingdo-I mean Safeco Field. We could see the kids wearing your jersey around town, there was even hushed talk of the p-word: playoffs.
 
And then you toyed with us. Atlanta? You have no roots in Atlanta. Seattle loves you. We admire you. We worship you. And you are thinking about Atlanta? That is when we started to lose faith. That's when our hopes of a welcome back parade were dashed. We felt like the fool. Who do you think you are anyway, Brett Farve?
 
Finally you screwed your head on straight and came back to us. That glorious February day when we found out it was for real: The Kid was coming home.

Some people hated you. Some people loved you. Neither mattered because you were here for one more season.
 
Then came Oct. 4, 2009 and the speculation began again. Will you or won't you? Was that your last game? In dramatic flare, something we have become accustomed to with you around, you kept mum on whether or not that beauty of single you hit in your last game will actually be your last single. Was that it for No. 24?
 
You told us, "You never know whether it's going to be your last one." But we think you do know. So please Junior, please stop getting our hopes up. Stop dangling that lollipop in front of us just to take it away. Sooner than you might think, we will get tired of it. Tired of the flip-flopping and wondering. And then we won't care anymore. No standing ovations. No blinding camera flashes when you come up to bat. All you will be able to hear is a resounding "boooo" from that gorgeous dugout that we spent many tax dollars on--for you.
 
Let's nip this in the bud here and now. We need to know if Seattle's prodigal 'Kid' will be back. And we need to know now.