PEORIA, Ariz. — It seems almost too cruel.

Bucky Jacobsen, after eight years of being discarded, passed over, ignored and told why he wasn't good enough, finally was on the verge of his major-league dream.

So close to major-league money, major-league comforts. So close to saying goodbye, for good, to the bus trips, the uncertainty, the minor-league outposts like Ogden and Beloit and Huntsville and Stockton and Indianapolis and New Haven and Tennessee and Tacoma.

Jacobsen had not only energized the Mariners' fan base in the midst of a dismal 2004 season, but showed that he really could hit up here, just as he always believed deep in his heart.

Bucky bashed nine homers and drove in 28 runs in just 42 games with the Mariners, on top of the 26 homers and 86 runs batted in he had for Tacoma. Once he got his knee cleaned out, he — and many in the Mariners' organization — felt there was no reason he couldn't ease into Edgar Martinez's designated hitter job and give it another jolt of star power.

So, so close.

And now, halfway through spring training, still too far. The knee operation last September wasn't nearly as simple as hoped, and precisely six months after doctors transferred cartilage to repair what he calls a large "divot" in his right knee, Jacobsen still is not right.

He's limited to hitting off a tee every three days, and Mariners medical staff is unable to put a timetable on his return. But this injury is known to take eight months to heal.

"It's not very fun to watch everyone else play, win jobs, and get to show Grover (manager Mike Hargrove) what they can do, and I just sit here," Jacobsen said. "If they walk in the weight room, I guess I can show them what I can do, but other than that ... "

Other than that, Jacobsen is working like a fiend on his conditioning, and waiting, waiting, for his knee to come around. For home games, he sits in the dugout for five innings, still a crowd favorite, but the spring is rapidly slipping away without Jacobsen in the plans.

"If it's possible something happens in the next week — miracles happen — and I get to have a few at-bats at the end of spring training — who knows?" Jacobsen said.

Realistically, his chance of making the team out of spring training has slipped away. A more likely scenario is he will stay in extended spring training until healthy, then head back to Tacoma to prove himself again.

"Once it gets healthy, I'll be back," vowed Jacobsen, who turns 30 in August. "The injury actually was a blessing in disguise. Before that, I used to turn on everything inside. I wasn't much of a complete hitter. I couldn't handle the ball away very well, or off speeds.

"When I hurt the knee, it kind of took away a little bit of the turning on balls, so I had to learn how to hit, or else I was just going to suck and be an automatic out. I've learned to hit a little bit now."

After the surgery, Jacobsen tried to convince himself he was healthy. Talking to reporters in January, on the Mariners' caravan, he joked about making the All-Star team and beating Richie Sexson and Adrian Beltre in the Home Run Derby.

"He's always real honest with me, but he was just trying to will it to get better," said Joe Speed, Jacobsen's agent and close friend. "He was hitting a lot in Seattle, in cages, trying to tell himself it felt great, because he wanted it to feel great."

When the Mariners opened camp last month, Jacobsen tried gamely to do the full routine, to show the new manager just what this hulking bald guy with the red goatee could do. But it was only a matter of days before it became clear that Jacobsen just wasn't ready.

"I don't want to say he made a mistake," Mariners trainer Rick Griffin said. "He really thought that after playing on the knee for a couple of years, he could do it. But this was totally different. He was recovering from surgery to repair major damage, and he just wasn't able to do what he needed to do."

Jacobsen admits that he was riding a wave of wishful thinking since shortly after the surgery.

"When they came out and said it (the damage) was significantly bigger, I knew what that meant," he said. "But I just convinced myself, 'Nah, I'm going be ready.'

"I kind of was kidding myself. Essentially, what I ended up doing, I lied to myself. I was saying, 'No, no, I can play.' Deep down, I knew I couldn't take the swings I normally take. I couldn't play the way I normally do, so they just ended up shutting me down."

But you can't shut down Jacobsen's spirit or determination, not after he got a taste of the big leagues and liked it. Not after he confirmed for himself an eight-year belief that he could hit big-league pitching. Not after he got married in the offseason and is now playing for two.

"Bucky and I have been together a long time, and he's always been driven," Speed said. "But it's so much different now that he's had a taste of the big leagues. He doesn't want go anywhere else."

And he's operating now on the philosophy that if he endures one or two more months of rehabilitating, he can spend the rest of his career proving the new crop of doubters wrong.

"I can't wait until it's healthy," Jacobsen said. "I can't wait to see what I can do."

So close. So cruel.

Larry Stone: 206-464-3146 or lstone@seattletimes.com