McLemore looks back on days growing up in San Diego

SAN DIEGO — Clubhouse managers tell players, "Put your name on your stuff and not your number. Numbers can change, and names don't."

Following that directive, Mark McLemore wears the name "Shady" printed in indelible red ink on the top of his shower shoes.

"That was my dad," the Seattle utility player said, a smile of sweet remembrance covering his face. "That was his street name."

L.C. McLemore died seven years ago this month. Each time his son returns to San Diego, the town where he was born, L.C. is there.

"Oh, yeah," the veteran of 16 major-league seasons said. "I come back here, and the memories all flood back — of life, growing up, of Dad."

McLemore grew up in Southeast San Diego, the youngest of seven children. "It had a reputation for being a rough place and, no, it wasn't Beverly Hills," he said. "But we were OK there. It was home. It wasn't the kind of place like some are supposed to be, where if you go in you might not get out."

He was back for a family reunion 10 years or so ago, and he and his father took a walk through the old neighborhood. An elderly man sitting on a porch called out, asking if that was "Shady" on the street.

"I didn't know who he was talking to, but my dad upped and said, 'Yeah, that's me,' " McLemore said. "I was dying to hear this. I couldn't wait until Dad and the man finished their conversation to find out who this 'Shady' character was."

When they finally walked on and talked, L.C. fessed up. He told Mark that "Shady" had been the name the folks in the neighborhood had given him.

"He and his pals were into little things that everyone considered shady," McLemore recalled. "Nothing big or bad, not really illegal, just mischievousness, just ... shady."

L.C. was the leader of the group, which might have been called a gang until recent times put a more sinister meaning to that label, and the "Shady" moniker stuck.

"None of us knew that story," said McLemore, who has three brothers and three sisters, the eldest 19 when he was born. "But they all heard it soon as I could tell them. We never let him forget it after that."

McLemore and his siblings got their work ethic from their parents — "if they didn't get to work, they were extremely sick." And that's also where Mark got his love of cars.

L.C. worked two jobs to support his family, as a janitor at the University of California at San Diego and as a parking-lot attendant at a Ford dealership.

An early interest in cars led McLemore to establish his own dealership in Dallas, where one of his brothers runs the financial end.

"I own some luxury cars, so people assume that's what I deal in," he said. "But we sell Fords and Chevys and do all sorts of upgrades to vans and SUVs. We're doing a lot of interior, video or audio packages right now."

Thus, at 38 years old, if this is to be McLemore's final year of playing baseball, his future is secure in another life he loves.

But love of the game still burns in him, although he wonders what will be.

"I guess I'm at this stage where it's a year at a time," he said in San Diego over the weekend, "so it's possibly the last time I'll be home as a player."

The utility standout said it depends on some club wanting him. He is in the final year of his contract, earning $3.3 million.

"I think it's obvious I can still play, and the desire to play is still there," he said. "I hope there's a team who feels the same, and I'd love for it to be Seattle. I'd love to finish up in this uniform."

But if not, there are always the memories, including the ones from playing in San Diego as a kid when his father came to watch.

"He'd make as many of our games as he could when I played Little League or school ball," said McLemore, who was a shortstop at Morse High School 20 years before Adam Jones, the Mariners' top draft pick this year, filled that position at the school.

"The parking lot was in center, so you could always see (L.C.) pull up and get out and walk around the field," McLemore said. "I can still see him. I can still feel him. He'd always kiss us kids when he left for work, and I can still feel his whiskers rough on my cheek.

"Shady ... ," Mark stopped and smiled at the name. "He's always here watching me play. Even now I can feel him here."

It is one of many reasons McLemore wants to keep playing.

"But whether I do or not, for me and all the family, he'll always be here."

Bob Finnigan: 206-464-8276 or bfinnigan@seattletimes.com.