PEORIA, Ariz. -- Mike Hargrove doesn't know whether he'll put on a uniform this week. He said Tuesday that it felt strange being at the Mariners' spring training complex in street clothes. But it would no doubt be surreal to pull on the uniform he last donned on July 1, the day he walked away from the Mariners in one of the most stunning resignations in baseball history.
Hargrove will be at Peoria Sports Complex all week as a special instructor, at the invitation of Mariners general manager Bill Bavasi. While he admits he was somewhat uneasy about showing up here, he says he remains at ease with his decision last July.
"I made the decision when I made it for the right reasons," he said. "There were no sinister manipulations behind it. It was what it was.
"The decision I made then was right for me and my family and, I think, for the Mariners. Do I regret making the decision? No, not really. I've enjoyed the time off with my family, I really have."
Even privately, Mariners players don't speak ill of Hargrove or seem to carry much of a grudge about being abandoned midseason. Everyone who passes him stops to say hello. John McLaren, the man suddenly promoted from bench coach to manager when Hargrove departed, is fine with having his predecessor in camp.
"He'll be working with the minor leaguers and he'll watch our games," McLaren said. "I might have him look at our first basemen. Basically it's whatever he wants to do. I'm comfortable with that."
At this time last year, Hargrove seemed on edge and impatient. He was combative with the media in response to harmless questions. It seemed ownership's declaration that Hargrove and Bavasi were on the "hot seat" already was weighing on the manager, but Hargrove said it was simply a sense of urgency.
"I don't know that I was more out of sorts or irritable, more so than (other years)," he said. "Maybe I just didn't hide it as well. The ballplayers and the club take their cues from the manager's leadership, and obviously last year things were a lot more immediate than before. I felt that, and it certainly wasn't wrong to feel that, and I wanted to send that message to the players in any way I could."
As the season progressed, Hargrove says it wore on him in a way he'd never felt before. Losing felt terrible, and winning didn't feel good. He talked things over with his wife, Sharon, and the idea of walking away became a real option.
"I didn't totally decide until I was on my way to the ballpark the day before," he said. "All of a sudden I realized, it's not any different. We'd lost seven in a row (earlier), and I didn't feel any different after we'd won six in a row (at that point). That was a tough day when I talked to Bill."
Even tougher was telling his players before the game the next day that it would be his swan song. The players went out and beat Toronto 2-1 for their eighth consecutive victory, and gave Hargrove a sendoff he'll never forget.
"Probably the toughest thing I've ever had to do was to tell the players," he said. "But maybe the most gratifying and satisfying day of my career was when that game was over Sunday and I walked in and they all gave me a standing ovation.
"Things like that, I'd have walked through the fires of hell to be recognized by the people that look to you for leadership, to be recognized. The way they attacked the game that day, and then the standing ovation in the clubhouse was really the first time I broke down."
There was rampant speculation. Was Hargrove forced out by management? By the players? Was he sick? Was there some scandal ready to break?
In the 8 1/2 months that have passed, no indications have emerged that it was anything other than what Hargrove said it was: He lost his passion for the job, and he didn't want to do it anymore.
"What I said then was the truth," he said. "There were a lot of people that didn't want to believe that. ... There's always people who don't want to believe the truth.
"I didn't do this with a light heart. I didn't treat it like, 'Hey, I'm outta here.' It was a lot of sadness that I made that decision. But no regret."
Hargrove stuck around Seattle for a few days, bought the red pickup truck he'd always wanted, and he and Sharon drove down the West Coast and eventually back to their home in Richfield, Ohio.
Many people get bored with retirement quickly, but Hargrove said he hasn't run out of things to occupy him. He gets things done around the house, travels a bit, and regularly hosts his five grown children, all of whom are in the Cleveland area.
He and Sharon started going to movies, but eventually discovered they had vastly different tastes. "No Country For Old Men," which he loved and she hated, forced a change of plans.
"That was the straw that broke the camel's back," he said. "We've agreed not to go to movies together anymore."
While Hargrove still pays attention to baseball, little things remind him that it is, for now, behind him.
When Sharon and their youngest daughter took a road trip to visit a college, he awoke to find himself in bed alone and realized it felt strange. It was the first time since his retirement that they'd slept apart, something that used to happen for months on end.
The winter meetings came and went without Hargrove realizing it. On Valentine's Day, Sharon reminded him that for 30 years, that was usually the day he left her for spring training. When camps opened, he went online to see what changes the Mariners had made, but he didn't feel any pangs of regret.
Starting in June, Hargrove will manage the Liberal (Kan.) BeeJays, a college-level summer league team for which he played for a few weeks in 1972. He says Sharon talked him into it; she denies that.
As for baseball's bigger stage, it's not calling to Hargrove. Not yet. But he knows that could change.
"I'd like to keep my name out there in case I do start having interest," he said. "I know that I've been interviewed (by reporters) this winter and I've said if the right job came along I might be interested, but maybe I misspoke. The job here was the right job. Great job, great people, great organization. ... I don't know that there is a better job managing in baseball than here, to tell you the truth.
"But I don't want to close the door. I might want to come back as a third base coach, or if somebody needed a bench coach, or maybe I'd be interested to manage again. That may happen. I don't know that it will and I don't know that it won't.
"If it doesn't, that's OK. I'm in a real good place."
P-I reporter David Andriesen can be reached at 206-448-8061 or davidandriesen@seattlepi.com.
