Hargrove's exit might not contain any mystery

Grover, we hardly knew ye.

What a tumultuous reign. What a bizarre departure. So many questions unanswered, including the whopper: Why in the world would Mike Hargrove simply walk away from the Mariners at the precise moment that his grand plan for the team was coming to fruition?

I've heard a million theories in the past 48 hours, from the conspiratorial (Ichiro made him do it!) to the ominous (don't ask).

It seems that no one wants to believe the explanation put forward by Hargrove himself, the deeply personal mixture of angst and ennui that seemed to consume him. On the surface, it's too murky, too unsatisfying. It doesn't fulfill our need for clean, tidy, definitive closure.

Even one of Hargrove's oldest and closest friends, Dodgers coach Rich Donnelly, was initially skeptical in a phone conversation on Monday. Donnelly, who hadn't yet been able to reach Hargrove, couldn't wrap his arms around Hargrove simply quitting in the middle of a season.

"When you walk away from something you love, something has to make you do that," he said. "I don't think you just get tired of it. There's something else. There has to be. Mike's a fighter."

But as Donnelly talked his way through it, when he heard of the genuine emotion displayed by both Hargrove and his wife, Sharon, on Sunday — he started to come around.

Just as I came around, during Sunday's news conference, to believe Hargrove's pleading insistence: It is what it is. Hargrove was not forced out in any power struggle or contract dispute. This was about something eating away at his heart and soul. Maybe we don't know precisely what that something is. Maybe we don't need to know.

"Everyone thinks this life is glamorous," Donnelly said. "I call it 'part-time glamorous,' and that's not good enough. Him and Sharon are as down to earth as any two people I've met in baseball. Mike's not infatuated with himself, or his position.

"I could see him doing this. I saw a kid named Jeff King [a former Pirates third baseman] walk away from baseball with his wife. He went to Wyoming and said, "I've had enough.' Not everyone is in a position to do that. Mike is. If he's doing it for that reason, I'm the happiest person in the world.

"Grady [Little, the Dodgers' manager] and I talked over coffee this morning. Sometimes you've just had enough of everything. Dealing with players, owners, management, media. Sometimes, you just say, 'You know what? I'm tired of this.' "

Jim Page is Hargrove's closest friend. They played college baseball together. The Pages live across the street from Hargrove's father, Dudley, in Perryton, Texas, a small town in the Texas panhandle. Page's wife grew up with Mike and Sharon in Perryton. The Hargroves plan to stop for a visit as they wend their way back to their Ohio home in their new red pickup, with detours to California to see their son play baseball, to Arizona to see Ron Hassey and his wife, to New Mexico to see their cabin in summer for the first time.

Jim Page did talk to Hargrove on Monday. He came away convinced there is no hidden agenda. It is what it is.

"I know he's been real frustrated," Page said. "He's fired one week, and manager of the year the next. I think it's been that way ever since he started managing. In Cleveland, everyone said it was the talent, not his managing. He's never been given his due. Over a period of 15 years in the big leagues, that wears on you.

"I think he's to the point in his life, he's missing all the stuff everyone else enjoys. Raising kids, being around his grandkids. This is supposed to be the good time of life, the mid-50s.

"I think he's just tired of the stress, the ups and downs of the Mariners. Not just the Mariners, but everything. I think he just got really tired of fighting it, and he's ready to assume the good life. He wouldn't quit unless he's really had enough."

I can't help but think that beyond the legitimate family concerns, the cumulative losing over the past six years beat down Hargrove mentally, made him more vulnerable to the demons of loneliness and anxiety.

Since leaving the powerful Indians, where he won two pennants, Hargrove hasn't had a winning season. He's had four years of losing 90 games or more. His 2001 Orioles team fell apart down the stretch, losing 16 of 17 games in late August and early September. His 2002 Orioles lost 32 of their final 36, his '03 squad 32 of their last 46. The Mariners improved from 93 to 84 losses in his first two years in Seattle, but he still was fighting an uphill battle.

Paradoxically, he leaves Seattle in a winning mode, a surge of success. If there was a manager of the year for the first half in baseball, it would be Hargrove. Yet even that wasn't enough to assuage the inner torment he revealed on Sunday.

Hargrove could be maddening as a manager — the way he constructed his lineup, the blind faith he showed in veterans. There was a cottage industry in this town centered around ripping Hargrove and his moves.

Yet in the end, his record here was a positive one. The Mariners got better each year. His players, for the most part, genuinely respected and liked him, and ultimately responded to him.

Just look at their heartfelt reaction to his departure Sunday. Hargrove might have stuck with some of them too long for fans' and the media's liking, but that fostered a kind of loyalty that made many of them his devoted acolytes.

Several times over the past two seasons it appeared Hargrove was on the verge of getting fired. He never was. He left on his own accord, a confusing departure that will ultimately be his Seattle legacy.

Here's hoping that he and Sharon find the happiness they are seeking.

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