A Night in the Kingdom of Felix Hernandez

Felix Hernandez pitched the most important game of his career Thursday night in Anaheim, and perhaps the most emblematic. The Angels, fresh off clinching their division, sent out a lineup of nobodies and never-will-bes; they pulled starter Jered Weaver in exchange for a washed up Wade LeBlanc. The truth is, they were doing Seattle a favor: the Mariners came in only a game and a half out of the wild card.

The Mariners aren't used to being in the hunt this late. They haven't made the playoffs since 2001, and despite some decent mid-season additions, their lineup still doesn't look quite like that of a postseason team. Indeed, last night they were stifled by LeBlanc, who lowered his earned run average to 5.24. But Felix did his thing anyway, tossing 7 shutout innings, allowing just 3 hits and 2 walks and striking out 11. When he left the game, the score was 0-0.

In the fifth inning, Felix set a career high with his 233rd strikeout. This was his sixth straight season of 200 Ks or more. Earlier this year, Felix made 16 consecutive starts in which he threw at least 7 innings and allowed 2 runs or less. Consistency has defined his career, and yet no statistic has defined him quite like the no decision. Sure, pitcher wins and losses are meaningless, but symbolism isn't. It was Felix's own 2010 Cy Young campaign—13-12, 2.27 ER, 232 Ks—that forced many baseball writers to acknowledge this fact. For a decade, Felix has been pitching into a void.

He worked quickly in Anaheim, almost as if insulted by the lineup the Angels presented him. When Mike Trout and Albert Pujols are resting on the bench, why spare moments of deep contemplation on Brennan Boesch and Efren Navarro? Why waste the energy? There was work to do. The A's were headed toward yet another defeat at the hands of the debilitated Rangers. The Royals and Tigers were taking a night off. Scoreboard watching is something new for the Felix-era Mariners. But the franchise had to catch up to him eventually.

Seattle is the only AL club to have never played in a World Series. But the team has never been short on superstars: Junior and Randy and Edgar and A-Rod and Ichiro. Yet none have been as perfectly Mariners as Felix. Griffey, for example, had a gravity that descended upon Seattle like a weather phenomenon. In the end, the city and the team were borrowing it. Rodriguez was a mercenary all along. And Ichiro's cool transcended mere geography. He is Ichiro everywhere he goes: Seattle, the Bronx, an abandoned island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. But that gravitas is all self-contained.

Felix, on the other hand, is organic. He is so Seattle that it's inconceivable to imagine him anywhere else. During the bad years, he smiled through the futility, expected the team to take care of him as he took care of them. And they did. They gave him, at the time, the biggest contract for any pitcher in baseball. The King's Court is perhaps the greatest ongoing marketing promotion in baseball. While Mariner fans grumbled about Ichiro's perceived lack of leadership, or the never-ending rebuilding process of Jack Zduriencik, they would look at each other and shrug and say "at least we have Felix." One could sooner see Felix doing cheesy Jay Buhner-esque local car commercials than wearing pinstripes.

Yet here Felix is, having drawn the best Yankee of the 21st century to Seattle, and comfortably ahead of New York in the standings. He's the rare prodigy who makes good on his gifts. Former can't miss pitching prospects litter bullpens and Triple A rotations across America. But Felix has taken every tool that makes a pitcher great—the nasty stuff, the velocity, control, the preternatural confidence that allows them to face down great hitters—and then improved on each of them.

Felix sat watching in the dug out Thursday night as three Angels players reached base in the bottom of the eighth inning: they were not superstars, or even regular starters. They were Shawn O'Malley, Boesch, and C.J. Cron. Felix might have seen another wasted effort in front of him. Then, with two outs, Mariners reliever Tom Wilhelmsen induced a line drive right at center fielder Austin Jackson.

In the ninth, Logan Morrison hit a three-run home run just over the high fence in right field. Fernando Rodney survived a Hank Conger blast in the bottom half. Suddenly the Mariners had won 3-1. Another no decision for Felix Hernandez. But not wasted.