ShareThisI hadn't even thought of the guy in probably 20 years or more, but news of the passing of Mark Fidrych brought back a flood of memories.
It was 1976 and my dad and I were huddled in front of the TV to watch Monday Night Baseball.
Yes, for a time -- long before cable TV -- there was such an animal as Monday Night Baseball, which was something ABC thought was a logical extension of its highly successful Monday Night Football franchise.
Anyway my dad, who was a big Braves fan at his core, still rooted for the Yankees when he was in an American League state of mind, so on this night it was the Yankees in Detroit playing the Tigers.
Pitching for the Tigers was Fidrych, who was nicknamed "The Bird" thanks to his passing resemblance to the Sesame Street character, "Big Bird." Actually the resemblance was more than passing -- dress him yellow and put him on a playground and kids would've thought Sesame Street had gone mobile.
It wasn't long before we both discovered this guy was not only a hoot, but also a pretty dang good pitcher.
He would carefully lean over and groom the mound, like a landscaper trying to perfect a garden.
And when the ball was in his hand, he would talk to it. If he was telling it to hit the strike zone apparently the horsehide listened because in this particular game he was setting the Yankees down almost as quickly as they came to bat, earning a 5-1, complete-game win in just an hour and 51 minutes.
And to this day I've never seen a more enthusiastic ballplayer. Every fielding play was worth a high-five from "The Bird," and when the game was over he jumped and hooted like he'd just pitched a perfect game in the World Series.
His teammates loved him and the fans quickly followed suit.
My dad and I followed Fidrych the rest of the season, one that saw him win American League Rookie of the Year honors, pitch 24 complete games, log a 19-9 record and close out the year with a sparkling 2.34 earned run average.
Then, it was over.
"The Bird" caught lightning in a bottle in 1976 but by his sophomore season injuries were already taking their toll on him. When he finally retired after five seasons in the big leagues, he had appeared in just 58 games with a 29-19 mark and 3.10 ERA.
Fidrych spent his final years as a part-time farmer, part-time construction worker. By all accounts he remained a character -- a quirky but nice person who was always quick with a smile and one who never met a stranger.
Monday he was killed in an apparent dump truck accident on his farm at the age of 54.
It's sad to think it took a tragedy to bring him to mind again, but I hope he knew how much joy he provided for baseball fans during one glorious -- and often hilarious -- season.
(Scott Adamson writes for the Anderson Independent-Mail in Anderson, S.C.)
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