SEATAC, Wash. — Last year, Ichiro Suzuki looked bored, like someone had dragged him to the Mariners' annual education day.

Elementary school children hissed when their hero, the face of Seattle's franchise, had a coach speak for him during a 15-minute talk on life values. Suzuki sat motionless, quiet, detached. He was the only one of a contingent of Mariners not in team gear. The superstar exited out a side door with a wave, his back to the room.

Suzuki, the incomparable performer on the field — All-Star appearances and Gold Glove awards in each of his eight major league seasons, the first modern player with eight consecutive 200-hit seasons — wouldn't talk that day about his nonperformance at school.

Then-Mariners manager John McLaren was left saying, "Maybe he had a cold or something. I don't know."

The scene was representative of a sad, interminable season for Suzuki and his bickering Mariners. The $90 million man was batting .282 at the time, 51 points below his career average. McLaren and general manager Bill Bavasi were on their ways to getting fired. Seattle eventually became the first team with a $100 million payroll to lose 100 games.

What a difference a Junior makes.

On Tuesday, at this year's Mariners education day, Suzuki was a kid again among a gym full of students at suburban McMicken Heights Elementary school, a home run away from Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. The intensely inward 35-year-old Suzuki was a laughing, outgoing participant in a starry, six-man group that included manager Don Wakamatsu and Ken Griffey Jr., the franchise's old face and current trendsetter.

The active leader in home runs with 615 entering Thursday's game may not be bopping 'em like he did in his MVP, self-titled candy-bar prime in Seattle a dozen years ago, but Griffey has transformed the Mariners' vibe — Suzuki's in particular.

Previously withdrawn from his teammates, Suzuki seems almost in awe of playing with the star he idolized while he was coming up in the Japanese League in the 1990s. He still cherishes the No. 24 Griffey Mariners jersey he's had for two decades.

"Griffey has always been my hero. To be able to wear a uniform with a hero of mine is special for me," Suzuki said through interpreter Ken Barron.

"Also a big factor this year is, when I got sick in spring training (and began the season on the disabled list for the first time, with a bleeding ulcer), it made me appreciate baseball that much more, and be thankful for it and what it means to get to wear a uniform and play. Those are the things that made me have more fun this year."

The 39-year-old Griffey, making one of his first off-field appearances since returning to the franchise where he first starred 20 years ago, led a comedy act into McMicken Heights Elementary. The kids — not to mention their teachers and principal — loved it.

As usual, Suzuki looked more hip than a high schooler. He wore dark designer jeans folded up at the ankles over black skateboarder sneakers. Like on last year's education day, he wore a mesh cap backward with sunglasses propped on the bill.

But this time, he had on a Mariners team jacket to match his five colleagues.

When asked how he got Suzuki to conform, Wakamatsu laughed and said: "I don't get anyone to do anything."

Griffey does.

With a curtain drawn in front of the players as kids filed into the gym, Griffey jokingly assigned seats backstage to Suzuki, five-time All-Star Mike Sweeney, catcher Rob Johnson, hitting coach Alan Cockrell and Wakamatsu.

Suzuki heard the ruckus from students filing in. He got up from his chair, poked his head through the red curtain and smiled. The room erupted with squeals and screams.

Sweeney, who proudly says he has never taken a drug of any kind in his life, spoke about staying drug free. Afterward Griffey, one of the few big-name sluggers untouched by scandal during baseball's Steroid Era, gave Sweeney a fist bump.

Suzuki got up next and spoke on respect. He joked that "Junior likes to pick on people. So be a kind and respectful person. And also, we would like Ken to become a kind and respectful adult."

The kids roared. Griffey grabbed the microphone from Barron and said in sullen voice, "I'm sorry." Then he walked across the stage to Suzuki, who had retaken his seat, and gave him an exaggerated hug. The slugger went down the row and hugged each of his teammates.

Griffey's leadership and laughs haven't translated to consistent winning yet. After a surprising April in which they led the AL West, the Mariners are back below .500 with an anemic offense, puzzling defense and spotty starting pitching. Griffey has been reduced to a role-playing designated hitter. He has been batting around .200 most of the season with four home runs in 29 games entering Thursday.

But Griffey, with Sweeney as his sidekick, has enlivened the Mariners' clubhouse. That, in turn, has transformed Suzuki.

Suzuki has been known to stay in different hotels on the road than his teammates. Some pointed fingers at him for dividing the team last year.

Now? Not only is Suzuki's batting average back up around .320, he's the central part of daily clubhouse party thrown by the self-described "World's Greatest Teammate." At least that's what the neck ties with Griffey's likeness on them proclaimed. Griffey had those made for the team to wear on a recent trip to Kansas City.

A day after their school visit, Griffey presented Suzuki with a freshly printed, white T-shirt with his number 51 on the front beneath Japanese characters that spelled out the off-color nickname given to Suzuki by former Mariner star Jay Buhner.

Suzuki laughed out loud.

That night, after Griffey singled him home with the only run in a win over the Angels, Suzuki glowed about the effect Griffey has had on him.

"For me, just watching him is fun," Suzuki said. "It's like I'm watching a creature that's not from Earth. It's that much fun for me."

And that has made life more fun for the Mariners and their fans.

"It's been great. He's been enjoying the environment," Wakamatsu said. "And Junior's a big part of that, and Sweeney — him having peers, a lot of guys of his caliber.

"He appears to open up because of being around guys of that stature. It's nice to have guys who he can relate to."