It is 325 feet from home plate to the fence in front of the visitors' bullpen, down the right-field line at Great American Ball Park - as short a distance as Major League Baseball allows with an 8-foot-high wall.

A few feet to the left is Section 140. Griffeyville, we'll call it. Or maybe Junior's Porch, in honor of You Know Who. Just to tick him off.

Ken Griffey Jr. holds his 10-month-old adopted son, Tevin, while standing below the dugout with son Trey, 9, at Great American Ball Park Friday. (AP/David Kohl photo) | ZOOM |

Ken Griffey Jr. likes that sort of attention as much as he likes rehab. But the Reds designed the park that way, making it easier for Griffey to go deep. Nothing sells like home runs. Around here, no one sells like Griffey.

"I don't hit many balls down the line," Griffey noted Friday night. Of his 468 home runs, he figures five have hit the right-field foul pole. Not that it matters. Griffeyville will be expecting more than a few free baseballs.

"That dimension was there before I got here," Griffey said.

Reds general manager Jim Bowden has said the distance was designed with Griffey in mind.

"It's for left-handed hitters," Griffey said.

No. It's for you. Adam Dunn came later.

"I had no control over what they did with this ballpark," Griffey said.

Nope. He didn't. If our reluctant superstar had any input, the right-field fence would be across the river.

Reason for optimism

But this is his year, isn't it? There's no getting around that. Griffey had a good spring and he worked hard in the offseason, something he says he does every offseason. Griffey will never make total peace with the attention his fame attracts. But he seems to be getting better at it.

It's all there for him. Griffeyville included.

If not this year, when?

Injuries have dogged him for two years. Griffey is 33, not old when Barry Bonds is hitting 73 homers at age 37. But Griffey played 155 games in 1990, when he was 20. The engine has some miles on it.

If nothing else, the questions about his standing as one of the game's best players should motivate Griffey to shut everyone up.

"People need to forget about the dimensions," Griffey said.

But is it tempting? Three-twenty-five is a short poke. It's good wood on a down-the-middle fastball. With the wind blowing out, it's practically a check-swing fly. Griffeyville isn't far for someone with 468 homers.

"What's Yankee Stadium, 318?" down the line, Griffey asked.

You won't play 81 times at Yankee Stadium.

"It'd be tempting if right-center was 325," Griffey said.

Not his target

He is sitting in the new, incredibly large home clubhouse, six TV screens hanging from the ceiling in full, glorious view. His buddy Tiger Woods is on all of them, playing golf. Griffey has two locker stalls, just like Barry Larkin, filled with gear from the shoe company with which he has a contract. "I'm opening a sporting goods store," Griffey said, laughing and as relaxed as you'll see him.

Back when it was the national pastime, baseball had Kiner's Korner in Pittsburgh and Greenberg Gardens in Detroit. At Crosley Field the Reds had The Goat Run, a fence built 20 feet in front of the terrace, for Ted Kluszewski.

With any luck, Griffeyville will earn its own place. Not that its namesake would encourage that. "The foul line," Griffey said, "is not something you aim for."

E-mail pdaugherty@enquier.com