You see it now, walking down the warehouse-lined alley, past where the Kingdome used to stand. Past hot dog stands with franks named after every regular on Lou Piniella's lineup card. And ticket scalpers telling you, "Sold out, my man, talk to me." You see it now, walking down First Avenue, on your way to The Safe. Past the giant images of players who have scalded the AL for half a season. Edgar Martinez. Mike Cameron. Ichiro Suzuki. Bret Boone. John Olerud. Freddy Garcia. Kazuhiro Sasaki.

You see it now. You don't even have to hear Tony Gwynn saying, after the M's and Padres met in interleague play, "They remind me of the '98 Yankees, and that was one helluva team."

You see it now, all these sweeps later, but to be truthful, you didn't see it coming. You saw these M's finishing behind the A's, maybe battling for a wild card, but more likely -- with A-Rod taking the money and running to Texas -- you saw them struggling to score.

Don't feel bad. (We certainly don't.) The beauty of the game -- no matter what it does to your spring picks -- has always been its unpredictability. A breakout season for Boone here, a point to prove for Ichiro there, the ripening of the fruits acquired for Randy and Junior, a starting staff better than we thought, a group of relievers bound to end Mariners bullpen jokes forever, and what do you have? One helluva team, that's what.

This article appears in the July 23 issue of ESPN The Magazine.