New season for M's: mojo or mo' misery?

Prozac in the Safeco Field water supply? Not just yet.

But the Mariner mojo has gone missing, deflated like Bret Boone, the former M's slugger who went from swaggering star to staggering retiree in three short years.

Since 2002, Safeco attendance has dropped 30 percent, while the Mariners have taken up residence in the damp cellar of the American League West Division. Even die-hard fans are left wondering if the team can climb out of the basement.

Mayor Greg Nickels, an M's booster, admits his brother gave up his share of a season's ticket this season, frustrated by the club's three straight last-place finishes.

The heat is on at the corner of First Avenue South and Edgar Martinez Drive — and it will be cranked up high beginning at 3:35 this afternoon when the M's open their 31st season.

If the team stumbles this season, manager Mike Hargrove could be fired. Ichiro, the M's brightest star, has said he may flee Seattle if the team doesn't improve. And today's starting pitcher, Felix Hernandez, still not old enough to drink a legal beer, is being expected to carry the franchise with his right arm.

The Mariners' reaction to such dire circumstances? Three statistically mediocre pitchers join the rotation, and two injury-plagued hitters were added to the lineup.

Perhaps in a move to stave off fan heart attacks, the team has also vowed to cut trans fats in ballpark concession food while continuing to emphasize a good time for the family at Safeco.

The team will offer more T-shirt, trinket and towel giveaways than ever and debut a new Moose Den, where kids can grab a photo with Bullwinkle's buddy, said Mariners spokeswoman Rebecca Hale. In June, the team will unveil a new hall of fame that celebrates Northwest baseball history while honoring Mariners greats.

Still, fans are restless.

Josh Dirks, 28, says the M's lack passion, from upper management all the way down to the team's "fair-weather, latte-drinking" fans.

It has been that way, Dirks says, since the team lost hat-kicking manager Lou Piniella in 2002.

"I'm definitely not a Hargrove fan. I'd like to see him be more passionate," says Dirks, who looks like he could be Apolo Anton Ohno's older brother.

Dirks, who bought a few opening-day tickets still for sale last week, wondered if fans are too content with a nice time at Safeco rather than winning games — and whether the team suffers from the same complacency.

Bill Hayes, 35, a union carpenter with opening-day tickets, said the M's need an owner like the Yankees' George Steinbrenner, who demands results and dumps those who fail to meet his expectations.

Hale promises that the team is not satisfied. "We know the No. 1 attraction is having a winning team, and that's what everyone here is focused on."

As for mellow fans, Hale says that's fitting for the Northwest. "It's not as if we're enforcing some unnatural state here. But we do want to make sure if you're family you're not going to be submitted to offensive signs" or obscene, view-blocking fans.

Bradley Cushion, who also bought opening-day tickets last week, said he loves the way M's fans keep coming back to yowl at the hydros on the big video screen, and stomp to the Teutonic techno rally song — all for a team that's never been to the World Series.

"They're the best in the world, the way they come back game after game, defeat after defeat," said Cushion, 18.

Indeed, despite the lower attendance, Mariners ticket sales still ranked sixth best in the American League last year. And while there were a few opening-day seats still available Sunday afternoon, Hale predicted they'll all be gone by the time Jay Buhner throws out the first pitch and the grounds crew busts its first move of the season.

Like this giddy day in years past, today marks a new season and a fresh start, when fans are willing to put aside their fears and try to will their team into a contender.

"Every team starts with the same record," observed Mayor Nickels.

Dirks and a few of his West Seattle buddies will barbecue beef brisket before the game "and get stoked."

Larry Bauman, a Belltown designer, will savor his first garlic fries of the year, served with a heaping side of optimism about young Felix Hernandez and Adrian Beltre, the underperforming $64 million third baseman.

On a family visit last week, as his mom snapped photos, 8-year-old Brandon Mulhair, of Gladstone, Ore., stood outside Safeco, swung an imaginary bat and clouted a home run only he could see. Then he declared, "The Mariners are going to win it all this year."

Bob Young: 206-464-2174 or byoung@seattletimes.com