I know it should be easy as falling off a dugout bench, but writing about Mark Fidrych is difficult for me.
No other player better embodies the joy that baseball (and life) brings me, and no other player had as much to do with my falling in love with the game in the first place — unless you count certain members of the Bad News Bears, who hit the big screen the same spring that "The Bird" took flight in the big leagues.
Fidrych's 1976 season was indeed magical — 19-9, a league-leading 2.34 ERA and 24complete games, AL Rookie of the Year and runner-up in the AL Cy Young voting, and the guy didn't even get his first start until the middle of May — and its magic rubbed off on the rest of the sport. We had no way of knowing that the magic would evaporate so quickly...
There is so much one can write about, from his mound-manicuring and ball-chatting antics, to the guileless, child-like pleasure he took in every game, to his unfulfilled promise, to his horrific and untimely death. But today, on what would have been The Bird's 57th birthday, I find that I'm just not up to the task; I have no wish to dwell in the sadness, and I feel like there's no way to really sum up what he meant to me without somehow diminishing the magic. He just was — and I was lucky enough to be a baseball fan the year the Bird flew so close to the sun.
I would, however, highly recommend this touching blog post which Josh Wilker of Cardboard Gods hipped me to, which was written by photographer Joe McNally shortly after Fidrych's passing in 2009. You may need to keep a coupla tissues handy, though...
But I would also like to say this: At a time when concepts like empathy and understanding are openly mocked by politicians and the media, when complex truths are shunted aside in favor of soundbites, and this country seems more catastrophically divided than ever, it's worth remembering the radiant joy that Mark Fidrych brought to our troubled and confused nation during its Bicentennial year — and that he did it by being open-hearted, genuine, and completely true to himself. There's a valuable lesson in there somewhere.
Rest in Peace, Maahk. You were friggin' awesome; I'm sad that you're gone, but I'm damn grateful that you were born.
Nicely put Dan!
In 1976 I was 10 years old and lived in Michigan when Fidrych burst upon the scene. It was a lot of fun.
Posted by: DICK ALLEN HALL OF FAME | 08/14/2011 at 05:54 PM
This makes me so happy. In today's world, with the media events and players being so tightly controlled, it is a wonderful thing to see pure joy from players and fans. This is why we all love baseball. Thanks for sharing this great moment in American history.
Posted by: Ryans Express | 08/16/2011 at 09:45 AM