Rick Kaminski, the longtime Mariner peanut vendor who died Tuesday night, had one of the easiest jobs imaginable: Step 1: Alert baseball fans to proximity of peanuts. Step 2: Distribute peanut bags to baseball fans who desire them. Step 3: Accept payment from fans, distribute change if necessary.
There’s nothing to it. Unless you do what Rick did. Make one of those steps fun.
Rick (it was always “Rick”) developed the ability to throw bags of peanuts behind his back with incredible speed* and accuracy. “Hands up,” he’d always call to first-timers, who otherwise would misjudge Rick’s throws and end up with a face full of exploding peanut bag. Repeat customers didn’t get the warning. They’d signal Rick–subtly, like buyers at an auction–from as far as 30 feet, as a test of his accuracy. He’d fire immediately. I never saw him miss.
*A Mariner scout once timed Rick’s toss at 72 mph.
Rick’s banter was fast like his throws–in a couple of ways. He talked quickly, in a high-pitched, slightly-nasally voice, and he didn’t shy away from a little flirty talk with the ladies. He’d sometimes make comments that are likely not in the Mariner Vendors Handbook–never lewd, mind you, but if you were following the thread, not G-rated either. Rick was an individual.
And that’s why he was beloved. Not the speed of his peanut throws, not his banter, not his 34 years of service. It’s that he was unique. It’s that he took something boring and made it into something joyful. That’s called art, folks. He turned his job into art.**
**Theater, I suppose, if we must categorize.
Genius creative director Michelle Crum has posed this question: “Why is boring always the default mode? What if fun was the default?” Rick made that “what if” a reality for Safeco fans. We all have jobs with varying degrees of automomy, varying degrees of difficulty. But if Rick could bring joy to as dull a job as vending peanuts, we can all default to fun sometimes. If you want to remember Rick right, toss a LOLcat into your next Powerpoint presentation. Huck an Office Space reference in at the staff meeting. Do a little dance. Sing a song. Wear purple.
Here’s what some other people are saying about Rick:
“It’s a sad day for sports fans across the Puget Sound region. Even when the Mariners hurlers were shaky, Rick’s long tosses were right down Broadway. Rick loved his job and his customers loved watching him perform. We will all miss Rick’s smile, his enthusiasm, and his behind-the-back and over-the-head peanut deliveries.” –King County Executive Dow Constantine
“Rick was a fixture at Seattle sporting events for as long as I can remember. His speed and accuracy with a bag of peanuts was matched by his quick wit and smile. He always seemed happy to see you, even if he was meeting you for the first time.” –Mariners President Chuck Armstrong
“Rick the Peanut Guy is just one of those characters that can’t be replaced. As corny as it sounds, hearing the news that he died was like losing a part of my youth.” —Sunny Wu, Sports & Food
“Just heard the sad news about Rick the peanut man, used to watch his athleticism from the dugout! RIP.” —Former Mariner pitcher Ryan Rowland-Smith.
“When you saw Rick–and you always saw Rick–you knew you were going to get a flawless performance, executed with good humor. You couldn’t be so sure about the Mariners, but the $1 or $2 or $3 or $4 or $5 to nab a bag of peanuts from the Peanut Man (depending on whether we’re talking about the early Kingdome days or the late Safeco days) was always money well spent.” —Larry Stone, Seattle Times
Photo by Mark Sobba, via Flickr
