One of my all-time favorite baseball players – Mark “The Bird” Fidrych – died yesterday. He was one of the first baseball players I remember loving because of how he played, and not because he was on the Red Sox. The weird antics on the mound – he patted the dirt, and talked to the ball – were inspiring (I used to talk to the ball too, though it was a bit weirder since I was a catcher).
I had a random brush with Fidrych in Boston after he retired (he was from Massachusetts, and after he flamed out with the Tigers, he made a brief comeback attempt with the PawSox). It was 1986, and my roommate Jason and I were at game 2 of the Sox-Angels ALCS (which the Sox won handily). We’d camped out outside Fenway for a couple of nights, and got great seats – 4th or 5th row right behind third base. And Fidrych was sitting a few rows in front of us (he was still instantly recognizable). Game went on – he was chatting with fans for a few innings. Then, somewhere around halfway through the game some guys in suits – late arrivals – showed up. And it turned out Fidrych was in their seats and the ushers sent him somewhere else. A perfect moment.
It happened that the Sox were in town yesterday to play the A’s, and a bunch of us went to the game. When I heard about Fidrych, I made a couple of signs – including one with Big Bird saying “R.I.P. Bird” (Fidrych famously appeared on the cover of Sports Illustrated with Big Bird). I held the signs up at the game, even though few people seemed to know who he was. And in the bottom of the 2nd inning, N.E.S.N. used it as the backdrop while Jerry Remy and Don Orsillo remembered Fidrych. Here’s the clip:
Recalling that ALCS encounter with Fidrych made me realize that I’ve actually had brief interactions with all three of my favorite players from my childhood: Fidrych, Sox pitcher Bill “Spaceman” Lee (who ran for President on the Rhinoceros Party ticket in 1988 and was campaigning among those of us camped out for Sox-A’s playoff tickets) and Dennis “Oil Can” Boyd (who once gave me a long explanation of how great a catcher he could have been while warming up for a game against Chicago in old Comiskey – I had a particular affection for The Can, because people used to call me “Oil Can” in elementary school, long before he reached the majors, for reasons I can not fathom, though they were definitely not being nice).
R.I.P. Bird.
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