Did Ichiro curse Seattle with a drought?

September, 5, 2012
9/05/12
9:20
AM ET
IchiroJoe Nicholson/US PresswireIchiro left Seattle in a Yankees uniform on July 23, and it hasn't rained since. Coincidence?
Ichiro is kind of a weird dude. He often shows up to stadiums in bright pink socks and skinny jeans rolled to the knee, and he does that bizarre Cirque du Soleil stretching ritual thing before games. But he’s revered for it.

Every mundane action of his existence is meticulously documented by an army of Japanese reporters who follow him to each and every stadium, chronicling his minutia as if he’s some deity whose life record will one day be a holy book.

But today I present you evidence that maybe Ichiro is a deity whose life record will one day be a holy book.

With nothing but arid sun and cloudlessness in Seattle’s extended forecast, the city is on track to wither its record of 51 days without rain, which has stood since 1951. As of Wednesday, the city hasn’t seen a drop in 45 days, with a paltry .04 inches falling on July 22nd -- Ichiro’s last day as a Mariner.

Too much of a coincidence, right?

In his first season in Seattle, Ichiro led the Mariners to a historic 116 wins, and now this season, his final one with the team after being traded to the Yankees in July, Ichiro seems bent on making Seattle history in a more vindictive way: through a relentless, punishing drought on its people.

He’s cursed them! He’s been angered by the Mariners' organization for stringing him along for the last decade without a single playoff appearance, squandering his eye-popping batting averages, his countless gorgeous slap base hits, his breathtaking efficiency on the base paths.

And now he’s taking his revenge, parching the mortal husks of the Emerald City’s fair-trade-coffee-guzzling inhabitants, depleting their skies of gloominess so that their bearded lo-fi bands can no longer mope out the fuzzy anthems America’s skinny-wristed philosophy majors depend on.

Repent, Seattle! Ichiro is not pleased!

Prepare him offerings of Ichirolls and pine tar. Give him Jay Buhner as a slave. Adorn his bobblehead with precious gems and fragrant oils.

Only then will there be mercy. Only then will there be rain.

Unless the Yankees totally blow it. Then maybe Ichiro will take his wrath to the Bronx.

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