Mark Fidrych

What's WRONG? At CLUB DEAD, The bell tolls for Mark Fidrych, The Bird, dead from a mishap while working underneath a truck on his Massachusetts farm, at the age of 54. One great year, and a slew of comebacks. The bird will be remember for his boundless joy, and maybe as the first example of the Sports Illutrated "cover jinx."I hope he had the time of his life.

All too brief.

That's the first thing that comes to mind when thinking of Mark Fidrych's time at the top. One beautiful summer... the summer of America's Bicentennal... that glorious time when excesses were at their peak. Hard to remember now, and certainly not PC to talk about it, 1976 was one of those years we thought about when, later in life, we lectured our kids how to behave.

And certainly, we hid the memories of how we spent our spare time. Hedonism was in full swing. Recreational substances were still something people shared as a communal experience. It had not yet become a vehicle for quick cash. Sex was plentiful, easy to get, and aside from pregnancy, led to no medical complications that couldn't be solved with penicillin.

Mark Fidrych on the cover of "Sports Illustrated" June 6, 1977. Was he the first example of the SI cover jinx?

1976 seems like another time. It was another time. Closing my eyes, I can taste the biscuits at Busler's on St Joe, and the chicken from the Farmer's Daughter. In my mind, I can negotiate the tight crowds at Washington Square, and feel the thumping disco beat on Funky's dance floor. Traffic jams on Outer Division, bikinis and beach balls at Kramer's Lake, steaks at F's and the whole menu at Das Kolker Haus.

In Cincinnati, the Big Red Machine was rewriting the record books and personifying how to play the game. They would sweep the World Series from the Yankees, who had run away from the pack in the American League East. And on TV, Saturday afternoon was for Curt Gowdy and Tony Kubek with the Game of the Week. In that summer of 1976, we saw more and more of the Detroit Tigers, and the rookie who bore no small resemblance to a famous feathered Muppet. It was the summer we would come to know "The Bird," Mark Fidrych.

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Mark Fydrich was working at a gas statioin for 2.00 an hour when he was signed by a Tigers scout. e acted like we wished all plyers would... like he was SO happy just to be there. He did look like a big happy bird, gangly, wobbly, arms flailing, and bursting with joy. Lots of players were happy, but he was infectious. He sprinted onto the field. He sang and smiled. He talked to the ball, played to the crowd, and reveled in that dream so common to young boys. Somehow we knew what he meant. And in Evansville, we saw him as one of our own. His 4-1 record and 1.59 ERA the previous year for the Evansville Triplets (the Tigers' AAA afilliate) were indicators of his potential.

"Yes," said Mark Fydrich, "it's just as much fun as we all imagined it would be." He was having the time of his life, and wanted us all to share in it. In his first start, he threw a two-hitter. He was one of only two pitchers to ever start an All-Star game as a rookie. Of his 29 starts, he pitched 24 complete games. His ERA was a league-best 2.34, and he was the American League Rookie Of The Year.

Of course, the fans loved him. They flocked to Tiger Stadium in droves on days he was slated to pitch. A post-season analysis by the Wall Street Journal estimated that he was personally responsible for something in the neighborhood of one million dollars of revenue for the Tigers.

The next question should be obvious: Was this the start of the Sports Illustrated cover jinx? The preseason 1977 issue featured a cover shot of Fidrych and his Sesame Street namesake.

And then, it all went to hell.

Warming up in the outfield before a spring training game, Fidrych tore the cartilage his knee. He came back, but finished the year only 6-4. He spent most of the next year on the disabled list, and managed only fifteen innnings in 1979, with an ERA of 10.43.

Ouch.

The Tigers released him after a mostly unemorable 1980 season. He was picked up by the Red Sox and spent time in the minors, including return stints with the Triplets in 1980 and 81 (12-10, 4.68 ERA) before retiring in 1983.

Mark Fidrych had mounds of courage, the kind of courage which made him able to launch comeback after comeback when the injuries mounted. in a brilliant column, Tom Gage of the Detroit News recalls Fidrych's last fleeting brush with glory in his final major league season of 1980.

After baseball he went home to Massachusetts, and worked on his farm. By all accounts, he continued to embrace life, and didn't dwell on thoughts of what might have been. For thar alone, he was an incredible figure.

Then again, screw him, he's dead. Let's go look for crocodiles.

StevenK