The mystery pitcher began appearing in my morning box scores during the second half of September 1980. Sometimes he was Valenzuela, others Valenzla, but every time I looked, he had zeroes next to his name. I couldn’t find him in my baseball card set, my Street & Smith’s Official Yearbook 1980, or my Complete Handbook of Baseball 1980. All I knew was that suddenly he was one of the Dodgers’ most reliable relievers, a rookie thrown into the fire of a three-way NL West race between the Dodgers, Astros, and Reds.

What I didn’t know was that just over six months later, everybody who was anybody would know the name Fernando Valenzuela and the trail of zeroes he left in his wake. Fernandomania was coming.

Forty years ago, on April 9, 1981, a portly 20-year-old rookie southpaw from Mexico — listed at 5-foot-11 and 180 pounds, but generally presumed to be at least 20 pounds heavier — began a run that set the baseball world on its ear. Over the course of his first eight major league starts, including an emergency turn on Opening Day in place of the injured Jerry Reuss, Valenzuela would go undefeated while throwing seven complete games, five of them via shutout. Despite speaking barely a word of English, he became an instant celebrity on the strength of a bashful smile and impeccable command of his screwball, delivered with a distinctive motion that included a skyward gaze at the peak of his windup.

Some wondered if the pitch or even the pitcher was heaven-sent — a gift, perhaps, from the Big Dodger in the Sky. This 11-year-old had no doubt, particularly when Valenzuela went on to help the Dodgers win the World Series later during that strike-torn year.

By the time Fernandomania took hold, I was an avid third-generation Dodgers fan whose daily business began with the Salt Lake Tribune’s sports page, and specifically its box scores. I had learned to read the magical morsels of microscopic type in the summer of 1978, as the Dodgers came from behind to win their second straight NL West title and claim their second straight pennant as well, before losing to the Yankees in the World Series, again. Valenzuela’s late-1980 run out of the bullpen — 17.2 innings pitched, two runs allowed, both unearned, 16 strikeouts, and a 2-0 record with a save — whetted my appetite for more of this mysterious Mexican lefty.

That run wasn’t quite enough to help the Dodgers win the NL West in 1980. The team lost eight of its first 12 games after he arrived, which made mop-up opportunities plentiful, but even so, the Dodgers trailed the Astros by just two games as of September 26, with eight still to play. They won six, including three must-win games against Houston on the final weekend of the season, all by a single run to force a tiebreaker game. While Valenzuela would have been an inspired choice to start, he’d worked two innings the day before. Manager Tommy Lasorda instead tabbed Free Agent Flop Dave Goltz (I swear that became his legal name, though official sources disagree), who got shellacked. By the time I rushed home from school to watch, Valenzuela was pitching, albeit on the short end of a 7-1 score. Wait ’til next year.

I wasn’t alone in my readiness for More Fernando. Though he had jumped to the majors straight from Double-A San Antonio — thereby forgoing the horrors of high-altitude Albuquerque and the other hitters’ havens of the Pacific Coast League (including Salt Lake City) — Valenzuela was featured alongside second baseman Jack Perconte and catcher Mike Scioscia on the 1981 Topps Dodgers Future Stars card, which came out in the spring; the upstart Fleer company, issuing its first set in decades, even gave the rookie a card of his own. Sports Illustrated’s Steve Wulf had sketched out Valenzuela’s back story over the course of 2,500 words in the March 23, 1981 issue of the magazine:

The Natural is supposed to be a blue-eyed boy who teethed on a 36-ounce Louisville Slugger. He should run like the wind and throw boysenberries through brick. He should come from California.

The Dodgers have one this year, only he’s El Natural. His name is Fernando Valenzuela, and with apologies to the 150 citizens of Etchohuaquila, Mexico, he comes from nowhere. His ancestry is Mayan Indian, and he speaks just enough English to order a beer. He is a left-handed pitcher, and his body is more reminiscent of former Dodger left-hander Tommy Lasorda than it is of former Dodger left-hander Sandy Koufax. His future is more Koufax, though, than Lasorda.

…In the short time he spent with LA., he captured the heart of the Mexican community that surrounds Dodger Stadium, and it is no coincidence that he graces the back cover of the Dodgers’ 1981 media guide.

As Wulf explained, Valenzuela, the youngest of 12 children had been discovered as a 17-year-old by superscout Mike Brito (he of the omnipresent Panama hat and radar gun). The Dodgers paid the Puebla club of the Mexican League $120,000 for the rights to Valenzuela, who received $20,000 of that sum. Puebla owner Jaime Avella honored a commitment to give the Dodgers first crack at Valenzuela despite the Yankees offering $150,000.

After an impressive three-start initiation with A-level Lodi, the Dodgers sent Valenzuela to the Arizona Instructional League, where Bobby Castillo — a Brito discovery who had washed out as an infielder in the Royals’ organization but had dominated the Mexican League in 1976 and ’77 before being signed by the Dodgers — taught the young lefty the screwball. Castillo had picked up tips both from major league reliever Enrique Romo and the greatest screwballer of all time, Hall of Famer Carl Hubbell, who counseled his protege to throw both a fast screwball and a slow one.

Valenzuela proved to be a quick study, more than holding his own as a 19-year-old at San Antonio; he was called up to Los Angeles after going 7-0 with a 0.87 ERA and 78 strikeouts in his final 62 innings, a Texas League dry run for the coming streak. Even as a virtually unknown reliever, he drew increasingly loud ovations upon entered games, particularly because he was just the second native Mexican to pitch for the Dodgers since their move to Los Angeles — significant given the franchise’s original sin of evicting nearly 2,000 Mexican-American families from the Chavez Ravine barrio in the service of building Dodger Stadium, which opened in 1962.

With the Dodgers letting staff stalwart Don Sutton depart in free agency after the 1980 season, the pump was primed for the team to produce a third straight NL Rookie of the Year to follow Rick Sutcliffe (1979) and Steve Howe (1980). Expected to battle Sutcliffe — who had struggled the year before — for the fifth starter job behind Reuss, Burt Hooton, Bob Welch and Goltz, he essentially beat out the the last of those, but it wasn’t until Reuss suffered a calf strain that he got the Opening Day assignment. Facing the Astros (coincidentally enough) in front of 50,511 fans at Dodger Stadium, he spun a five-hit shutout, striking out five over the course of 106 pitches. Five days later at Candlestick Park, he held the Giants to four hits and one run while striking out 10 in another complete game.

It must have been around the point when Valenzuela followed up with a five-hit, 10-strikeout shutout of the Padres in San Diego on April 18 — on three days of rest, for some reason — that I was moved to action. In the days before recycling was a city-wide thing, my parents kept stacks of Tribunes in the garage, either to tie up and drop at a local recycling facility or else to use in the fireplace that winter. It was through such a stack that I had once retraced the arc of the 1978 NL West race as the Dodgers overcame the Giants in mid-August. This time, I went back and clipped the box scores from Valenzuela’s previous starts, taping them to a sheet of notebook paper in a three-ring binder. On another sheet, I kept a running stat line that helped me to calculate his minuscule ERA (they didn’t put those in the box scores of yesteryear, kids).

I’m honestly not sure how much Valenzuela I actually saw on TV during his run, though he was much easier to find later in the season. In Salt Lake City, we were limited to the games on national networks; I was fanatical about watching NBC’s Game of the Week on Saturdays, and ABC usually had games on Sunday or Monday, but at best only a few of the starts from his great run lined up with those offerings. Box scores, game stories, weekly Sports Illustrateds, baseball cards, the occasional broadcast of Vin Scully and Jerry Doggett that my father somehow conjured up — those and my active imagination filled in the gaps.

Valenzuela made his next start on three days of rest as well, this time against the Astros and Sutton in Houston. He scuffled early, but helped to erase a leadoff double by Terry Puhl by running Puhl down himself on a sacrifice bunt attempt, and with runners on second and third struck out both Jose Cruz and Mike Ivie to end the first inning. After walking two in the second, he induced Sutton to ground into an inning-ending double play. With the game still scoreless, Pedro Guerrero led off the top of the fifth inning with a double and took third on a Scioscia fly ball. One out later, Valenzuela drove him in with a single to left field — his second hit of the night — that proved to be the game’s only run. Valenzuela ended up scattering seven hits and five walks while striking out 11.

Within 24 hours of that win, the Dodgers had sold out all of the reserved seats for Valenzuela’s next start in Dodger Stadium — an unprecedented occurrence, as team vice president Fred Claire told Sports Illustrated. The word “Fernandomania” made its debut in print across the top of a Scott Ostler column in the April 27 edition of the Los Angeles Times; within, the Dodgers’ Spanish language broadcaster Jaime Jarrín, who was doubling as Valenzuela’s interpreter, said, “I’ve been doing Dodger games for 24 years and I’ve never seen this kind of reaction to a ballplayer.” So many people questioned Valenzuela’s age that the Los Angeles Times printed a copy of his birth certificate.

In front of 49,478 fans for just his second home start of the streak, Valenzuela again worked out of early trouble, stranding seven baserunners over the first four frames. For his second start in a row, he drove in the game’s first run, this time keying a four-run fourth-inning rally. He scattered seven hits and four walks while striking out “only” seven, and went 3-for-4, raising his batting average to .438. Fernandomania, indeed.

The streak, which to this point had helped the Dodgers to a sizzling 14-3 start, led Sports Illustrated to revisit Valenzuela, this time with Jim Kaplan writing about “The Epidemic of Fernando Fever” for its May 4 edition. Within, Kaplan described Valenzuela’s delivery:

Delivered with a high-kicking motion that brings to mind Juan Marichal, Valenzuela’s scroogie tails away from right-handed hitters. When righties crowd the plate to get a better shot at it, Valenzuela jams them with an inside fastball he perfected under the tutelage of Pitching Coach Ron Perranoski. But like most outstanding pitchers, Valenzuela relies as much on carefully nurtured skills as raw ability. “He can hit either corner with his fastball, throw the scroogie at two different speeds and come in with a fine curve,” says Perranoski.

Elsewhere, Kaplan noted that Valenzuela threw his screwball 60% to 70% of the time, but wasn’t afraid to shake off Scioscia and mix up his pitches. Delving into the cultural phenomenon and Valenzuela’s connection to the large Hispanic community in the region, Kaplan also noted the prevalence of stereotypes in the media coverage of the rookie pitcher:

Because Valenzuela speaks through interpreters and discloses little about himself, some English-speaking reporters have described him in one-dimensional terms. Some would have their readers believe that his English vocabulary is limited to yes, no, television, food and six-pack. “He struts around the mound like a Mexican general,” wrote one reporter. Other comments have included “Valenzuela’s nickname should be Pauncho” and “Maybe he’ll overdose on burritos and beer.” Typifying this sort of coverage was a cartoon in the Herald Examiner that pictured Valenzuela as a matador fighting a bull labeled “National League hitters.” Mexican-Americans and Spanish-speaking reporters have objected to this treatment of Valenzuela, justifiably claiming that it smacks of stereotyping; Valenzuela’s friends protest merely that the real Fernando isn’t being captured.

The increased attention from the media led Valenzuela to complain to agent Antonio De Marco that he didn’t have enough time to take batting practice, shag fly balls, or otherwise prepare for his starts, so when the Dodgers embarked upon their first East Coast road trip of the season, they laid down new ground rules: one press conference his first day in town, another after he pitched, but no more than that.

Fernandomania traveled north of the border to Montreal’s Olympic Stadium, where 46,405 fans — more than the total for the day before and the day after — watched Valenzuela take on the Expos. Opposite Bill Gullickson, he didn’t allow a ball out of the infield until the sixth inning, and carried a shutout into the eighth, running his scoreless streak to 36 innings, but gave up three singles and a game-tying run. He stayed in the game, which remained tied through nine innings. Lasorda lifted him for pinch-hitter Reggie Smith in the top of the 10th; Smith’s one-out single off Gullickson brought in the first of five runs, giving Valenzuela his sixth straight victory.

In New York, Valenzuela encountered a media circus of more than 100 people in the Shea Stadium Diamond Club, including SI’s Kaplan, checking in again for what would become the magazine’s May 18 cover story. Facing the Mets in front of 39,848 fans, he was again wobbly in the early innings as he failed to locate his screwball. He escaped bases-loaded jams in the first two innings and stranded two in the third, but he got things under control, and finished with an 11-strikeout shutout and a 1-0 victory. According to Kaplan, he had thrown 137 pitches, a career high.

“Like a crafty fish, Valenzuela had allowed the Mets a good chase (five walks, seven hits) but no catch,” wrote Kaplan. “And like frustrated fishermen, the Mets had nothing to show for their efforts but exasperation.”

Valenzuela and the Dodgers returned home to face the Expos on May 14. In front of 53,906 fans, he held the Expos to three hits, but two of them were solo homers. A third-inning shot by Chris Speier was not only the first that Valenzuela had surrendered in the majors but the first time that he had fallen behind on the scoreboard all season. An eighth-inning homer by Andre Dawson tied the score at 2-2. Minutes after that happened, Guerrero led off the ninth with a solo homer off Steve Ratzer, making Valenzuela a winner yet again.

With victories in the first eight starts of his career, Valenzuela had matched a feat last accomplished by Red Sox right-hander Dave “Boo” Ferriss in 1945. With no Baseball-Reference Play Index in those days, the writers who had frequently invoked Ferriss’ name during Valenzuela’s run likely didn’t know that the precocious lefty had matched the feat of an even bigger name in baseball history — or that both had been far outdone:

Valenzuela graced the cover of Sports Illustrated’s May 18 issue with the headline “Unreal!” A year later, after taking a class in BASIC, I would teach myself how to program high-resolution graphics on our family’s Apple II+ by tracing over this cover with graph paper and painstakingly typing in the coordinates. Two decades and change later, with my own copy of the magazine long gone, I would purchase a replacement on eBay.

“Will the Bubble Ever Burst?” asked the headline of Kaplan’s story, accompanying a photo of the phenom blowing a bubble while sitting on the Dodgers’ bench. The bubble burst, in fact, on May 18 — the cover jinx strikes again — when Valenzuela, working on three days of rest, was roughed up for four runs in seven innings by the Phillies, the defending champions. That not only ended my box score clipping but began a three-start skid during which Valenzuela yielded 16 runs (15 earned) in 18.2 innings, ballooning his ERA to 1.89; in the last of those starts, on May 28 in Atlanta, he was chased during a seven-run fourth inning.

Valenzuela righted the ship with a two-run, 11-strikeout complete game against the Braves on June 1 (yet another start on three days of rest), then alternated bad and good starts. Between those two outings, he accepted an invitation from President Ronald Reagan to attend a state luncheon at the White House honoring Mexican President Jose Lopez Portillo. Now that was unreal.

Valenzuela’s last start fell on June 11, the final day before the Major League Baseball Players Association went on strike over the issue of free agent compensation, meaning what a team losing a player to another team was entitled to, an issue that the players believed was an attempt to undermine players’ new-found rights. It was the fifth work stoppage in MLBPA history but the first midseason player strike, and it was a doozy, lasting 50 days.

Valenzuela was 9-4 with a 2.45 ERA at the time. The Dodgers, who had led the NL West by as much as 6 1/2 games in late May before losing nine out of 14, were 36-21, half a game ahead of the Reds in the NL West race. The strike was a bummer, but living in a city with a Triple-A team, and visiting my grandparents in a city with a Low-A club — Walla Walla, Washington, where I saw Tony Gwynn, previously known to me as an all-Western Athletic Conference point guard, start his professional career — I wasn’t starved for baseball.

And I didn’t resent the players. I had already read Jim Bouton’s Ball Four once or twice, and while the four-letter words and the stories of Mickey Mantle were of greater interest at that point, I knew who Marvin Miller was and understood his and the union’s role in attempting to level the playing field against the owners and their constant shenanigans. Ball Four made it abundantly clear even to a pre-teen that baseball executives were doing more screwing than Mantle.

Play finally resumed with the All-Star Game on August 9. Valenzuela got the starting nod and worked a scoreless inning, surrendering singles to Rod Carew (who was soon caught stealing) and Willie Randolph, then getting George Brett and Dave Winfield to ground out.

His second half wasn’t as sensational as the first, but he picked up steam in late August, allowing seven runs across a six-start, 52-inning stretch. He struck out a season-high 12 against the Cardinals on August 22, threw four-hit shutouts against the Cubs on August 27 and then the Cardinals on September 6, separated by a 10-inning, one-run outing against the Pirates on September 1. He spun his eighth shutout of the year, a three-hitter against the Braves on September 17. Strike or no, that gave him a share of the record for a rookie, matching dead-ball era pitchers Russ Ford (1910) and Reb Russell (1913).

Thanks to that late run, Valenzuela finished the regular season 13-7 with a 2.48 ERA (seventh in the NL). His 25 starts, 11 complete games, 192.1 innings and 180 strikeouts — in just over two-thirds of a season, remember — all led the league. WAR hadn’t been invented yet, of course, but whether by FanGraphs’ reckoning (4.9 fWAR) or that of Baseball-Reference (4.8 bWAR), Valenzuela ranked second to Steve Carlton, though his offense (.250/.262/.281) either pulled him into a tie with the future Hall of Famer (5.3 fWAR) or narrowed the gap (5.3 bWAR to 5.5). Via another stat that hadn’t been invented, K+% (adjusted strikeout rate), Valenzuela’s 184 mark led the league, though it took a back seat to the rookie record held by Herb Score (222) and would soon be surpassed by fireballing Mets phenom Dwight Gooden (212 in 1984).

The Dodgers did not play particularly well after the strike, going 27-26, but they didn’t have to, because the powers that be agreed upon a split-season format in which the teams that led their divisions at the time of the strike would qualify for a best-of-five series to be played against the division leaders from the second half; the winner of those series would advance to the best-of-five League Championship Series. With second baseman Davey Lopes struggling and injured, the Dodgers used the second half to take a long look at Steve Sax; Lopes, a pending free agent, would depart after the season, breaking up the Longest Running Infield, which included first baseman Steve Garvey, shortstop Bill Russell, and third baseman Ron Cey and which had been together since mid-1973, anchoring three pennant winners.

The split-season format was controversial, because in the cases of both NL divisions, the teams with the best overall records, the Cardinals (59-43) and Reds (66-42), failed to qualify for the postseason. Then again, the first half-winning teams might have played with greater urgency had they not been assured of a playoff berth.

For the first Division Series, the Dodgers faced off against — who else? – the Astros, with Valenzuela getting the nod against Nolan Ryan, who had no-hit them on September 26, surpassing Koufax with his record-breaking fifth no-no. While center fielder Ken Landreaux broke up Ryan’s no-hit bid with one out in the first inning of this one, the Dodgers managed just a lone walk against him over the next five frames. The game remained scoreless until the bottom of the sixth, when the Astros scratched out a two-out rally on singles by Puhl and Tony Scott sandwiching a walk by Phil Garner. Garvey countered with a solo homer in the next frame, but that would be the Dodgers’ only other hit on the night. With the score tied in the ninth, Valenzuela was pulled for pinch-hitter Jay Johnstone to no avail, and the Astros won in the bottom of the frame on Alan Ashby’s two-out, two-run homer off Dave Stewart.

In the parched run environment of the Astrodome, the Astros walked off in Game 2 as well via a 1-0 win in 11 innings, pushing the Dodgers’ season to the brink. With the series shifting to Los Angeles, they won Game 3, 6-1, and Valenzuela returned on three days of rest (his sixth time of doing so that year), this time matched up against Vern Ruhle. The 20-year-old rookie was stifling, retiring the first 13 hitters he faced before Cesar Cedeno singled and then was caught stealing. A fifth-inning solo homer by Guerrero and an insurance run in the seventh gave Valenzuela all the cushion he needed; he yielded just four hits and a walk, though the Astros broke through for a run with two outs in the ninth. The Dodgers would win the rubber game behind a five-hit shutout by Reuss, advancing them to the NLCS against the Expos.

With the series starting in L.A., the Dodgers took the opener behind Hooton, but Valenzuela, again on short rest, was touched for three runs in six innings in Game 2 while his teammates were shut out by Ray Burris, who allowed just five hits. The Expos won Game 3 back in Montreal, but the Dodgers, again on the brink of elimination, countered with a Game 4 win, rallying for six runs in the eighth and ninth to break open a 1-1 game.

Valenzuela returned for Game 5, which was delayed a day by snow and cold weather in Montreal, affording both him (and Burris) a full four days of rest for a change.

The Expos struck first, when rookie speedster Tim Raines hit a leadoff double, took third on a sacrifice bunt when Raines beat Valenzuela’s throw, and scored on a double play grounder by Dawson. Valenzuela himself drove in the game-tying run in the fifth via an RBI groundout after singles by Rick Monday and Guerrero and a wild pitch. The 1-1 deadlock held until the ninth inning, when staff ace Steve Rogers came on in relief after Burris was lifted for a pinch-hitter. With two outs and nobody on, Monday hit a sinker that didn’t sink until it had cleared the center field wall, giving the Dodgers the lead.

With Valenzuela having thrown “only” 96 pitches through eight, Lasorda sent him back out for the ninth. He quickly retired the first two hitters, then labored, walking both Gary Carter and Larry Parrish on a total of 13 pitches. Lasorda gave his lefty the hook in favor of Welch, who needed just one pitch to retire Jerry White and send the Dodgers back to the World Series.

The World Series! Against the Yankees! As a kid who desperately wanted to witness the Dodgers winning a championship against their historic rivals, I could only imagine how the players — so many of whom were on the 1977 and ’78 teams that had lost those two Fall Classics — must have felt. But I understood this, felt it in my bones: Fernando was the equalizer, and the Dodgers, who had just won five straight elimination games, were the team of destiny.

The Yankees appeared to have other ideas. Even with Reggie Jackson missing the first two games due to a leg injury suffered while running the bases in the ALCS, the team took the first two games in the Bronx, with Ron Guidry and ex-Dodger Tommy John shutting down the Dodgers’ offense, aided by third baseman Graig Nettles reprising his defensive acrobatics from the 1978 World Series. My certainty about the Dodgers and destiny was shaken.

Valenzuela was not, though by this point, with 223 regular- and postseason innings under his belt, and with just three days of rest, he wasn’t sharp. Nonetheless, he gutted out the start of a lifetime, drawing upon a seemingly endless wellspring of calm as he kept the Yankees at bay in front of 56,236 fans, a Dodger Stadium record that would fall the next night. He worked around two first-inning walks with a double play ball off the bat of Lou Piniella, after which the Dodgers staked him to a lead thanks to a three-run homer by Cey off Dave Righetti, the Yankees’ own rookie lefty phenom. Bob Watson led off the Yankees’ second with a solo homer, and a Rick Cerone double and a Larry Milbourne single cut the lead to 3-2. With Valenzuela having retired just three out of eight batters, Lasorda ordered Goltz to warm up. Righetti’s sacrifice bunt moved the tying run into scoring position, and Valenzuela then walked Randolph for the second time, but Lasorda showed his faith in his prodigy, who retired Jerry Mumphrey on a comebacker.

But Valenzuela’s troubles continued, as Cerone mashed a two-out, two-run homer in the third to give the Yankees a 4-3 lead. From Jason Turbow, in an excerpt of his book on the Dodgers’ 1981 season, They Bled Blue:

To buy himself some time, the manager trudged slowly to the mound. By this point, Goltz was loose, and Valenzuela figured that he was done for. Why else would Lasorda come out rather than send pitching coach Ron Perranoski? The answer was that Lasorda wanted to see for himself just what his pitcher had left. No detail in particular fueled the manager’s decision, but something about Valenzuela’s demeanor convinced him. Instead of yanking Fernando, Lasorda gave him a pep talk. “If you don’t give up another run,” he said in Spanish, according to ESPN, “we’re going to win this ballgame.” Si no te rindes otra carrera, vamos a ganar este juego.

Valenzuela stared at his manager and responded in English: “Are you sure?”

Lasorda must have gotten a few more gray hairs when the next two batters reached base, but Valenzuela escaped by striking out Righetti with his 72nd pitch; to that point he had allowed 10 baserunners. He wasn’t done pitching out of jams — indeed, he wouldn’t throw a clean inning until the seventh — but the Dodgers took the lead on a two-run rally in the fifth against relievers George Frazier (who would be charged with three losses in the series) and Rudy May. Righetti had failed to retire either of the two batters he faced after hitting for himself in what turned out to be a pivotal blunder by manager Bob Lemon. An added benefit of removing the Yankees’ southpaw was that Lasorda could replace righty-swinging catcher Steve Yeager, who had caught Valenzuela just twice all season, with the lefty-swinging Scioscia, his regular batterymate.

The Yankees didn’t go quietly; Valenzuela needed a double play off the bat of Bobby Murcer after putting the first two men on base in the eighth. With his pitch count past 130, and with the left-handed Howe and the right-handed Stewart getting loose in the bullpen, he retired Mumphrey, Winfield, and Piniella in order in the ninth, striking out Sweet Lou swinging at a fastball.

The final tally: 147 pitches according to Baseball-Reference, nine hits, seven walks (tying Guidry’s World Series record, set in Game 3 of the 1978 matchup against the Dodgers when the Yankees were down two games to none), and six strikeouts. His 41 batters faced was one short of the World Series record set by the Orioles’ Mike Flanagan in the 1979 opener.

It wasn’t pretty, but Valenzuela got the job done, and turned the World Series. The Dodgers won Games 4 and 5 by one run apiece, then blew out the Yankees in the Bronx in Game 6 to claim their first championship since 1965, and the first of my lifetime. Valenzuela, lined up for a potential Game 7, could finally rest his arm.

As a fan, I was on cloud nine. Valenzuela had quickly become my favorite player, not that I held the likes of Cey, Lopes, Guerrero and Smith in any less esteem; for their offensive heroics, Cey and Guerrero shared co-MVP honors with Yeager. Great players all, but they lacked the special something of Fernando.

A couple of weeks after the World Series ended, Valenzuela not only beat out Raines for NL Rookie of the Year honors, he became the first rookie to win a Cy Young award, edging Tom Seaver for that honor. The heavy workload that the young lefty so willingly carried that season did not break him. On the contrary, Valenzuela continued to excel, posting a 3.04 ERA (116 ERA+) over the next five seasons while averaging 269 innings per year, making the NL All-Star team in each of those seasons. His 31.9 fWAR from 1981-86 outdid all other pitchers by over six wins; his 27.1 bWAR ranked second only to Dave Stieb (33.6). He finished third in the Cy Young voting in 1982, and second in ’86. Not until 1988 did he finally land on the Disabled List due to a stretched anterior capsule, breaking a streak of 255 consecutive starts. That he missed the Dodgers’ unlikely championship run was bittersweet, but it was Orel Hershiser’s turn to shine.

The spring after that championship, won while I was a freshman in college, my family arranged to have me meet them for my spring break in Orlando, Florida, close enough to get to Dodgertown for four games. Only then did I get to see my favorite player pitch in person. By that point, he was basically a league-average hurler, though he still had some highlights in his arm, including a 1990 no-hitter and an unlikely renaissance with the Padres in 1996, after he passed through the hands of three other teams. He didn’t compile strong enough numbers to make it to the Hall of Fame — oh, if ever there were a case to mount, I’d be all over it — but his heroics were the apex of my childhood fandom.

It took until the late innings of their seventh game of the season, but the 2021 A’s have finally showed they have some fight in them. After losing the first six games of the season by a combined score of 50–13, Oakland was en route to loss No. 7 in a listless Wednesday matinee against the Dodgers, entering the bottom of the seventh with just a single hit and trailing 3–1. Then Matt Chapman halved the deficit with his first homer of the season and, two innings later, opened the ninth with a single to center. A walk, bunt and sacrifice fly scored him to tie the game, and a walk-off single by Mitch Moreland ended things in the 10th, at long last etching a “1” into the Athletics’ win column.

Oakland was the last team in baseball to secure its first win of the season, and by facing Houston and Los Angeles right out of the gate, those wins were always going to be hard to get. But the A’s aren’t a bottom feeder; they were division champs last year and 97-game winners in each of the two previous seasons. But the first week of the season shows how much weaker this year’s edition may be, and that can be traced directly to the effort, or lack thereof, that went into building this roster.

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Dylan Bundy’s career has hardly flown under the radar. He was arguably the top pitching prospect in baseball when he debuted, and his subsequent injury troubles made the next part of his career a well-known cautionary tale. When he returned to effectiveness in the second half of 2019, then broke out in 2020, it was a story arc we’ve all seen before: the post-hype prospect makes good.

While you might know that, you probably don’t know the secret skill that’s powering Bundy’s resurgence. It’s not a high-octane fastball — he’s lost that since his prospect days. It’s not a gaudy swinging strike total — he’s no slouch in that department, but nor does he excel. What Bundy does best is loop breaking balls through the strike zone and coax batters into taking them. He might be baseball’s best at it, and the piles of free strikes he racks up power the rest of his game.

Want a quick visual before we dig into the numbers? Tim Anderson is a free swinger, but even on 0-1, he couldn’t unlock his bat against this slider:

Want it with a curveball? Watch Bundy demonstrate the low and away boundary of the strike zone to Adam Eaton:

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Tim Anderson is a befuddling player. Over the last two-plus seasons, he has posted a 133 wRC+ despite a minuscule walk rate (3.3%) that is the third lowest among all players with at least 500 plate appearances, ahead of only slap hitters José Iglesias and Hanser Alberto. That puts a lot of pressure on his ability to produce on contact. So far, so good: In that same time frame, he has a .390 BABIP, tops among all hitters and a full eight points above the next closest player (coincidently, his teammate, Yoán Moncada). The normal expectation is that a BABIP figure that high is unsustainable, and the projection systems tend to agree. The FanGraphs Depth Charts pegged Anderson for a .336 BABIP in 2021 and, correspondingly, a batting line just three percent better than league average.

If Anderson is going to be a productive hitter, then, one of two things needs to happen: He sustains a BABIP that is not just 100 points above the league average but also one of the best figures of all-time; or he improves in plate appearances that do not end with a ball in play. So how likely is either?

Let’s start with the BABIP. Anderson does not hit the ball especially hard. In the last two seasons, he ranked in the 33rd and 40th percentile, respectively, in hard hit rate, according to Baseball Savant. Last season he almost doubled his barrel rate, going from 5.1% in 2019 (23rd percentile) to a career-high 10.1% (65th), but that 2020 figure constituted all of 16 batted balls. Nor has he shown too much selectivity in his career or discriminated against pitches within or near the strike zone, as you can see in the sea of red below.

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This is Chet’s first piece as a FanGraphs contributor. He believes data is the most compelling storyteller and loves using analytics to attempt to demystify the game of baseball. He previously covered the Colorado Rockies for Purple Row. A graduate of Georgia Tech, he had the opportunity to participate in Danny Hall’s walk-on tryout in 2003, though he apparently failed to blow the legendary coach away with his 76 mph fastball. Chet lives in Lakewood, Colorado with his wife and two children, all of whom tolerate way too much baseball talk at the dinner table.

Trevor Williams headed into spring training at a pivotal moment in his career. Following two solid seasons of work in the Pirates’ rotation, he experienced a somewhat delayed sophomore slump in 2019. His performance declined significantly. He finished the season with an ERA of 5.38 and a FIP of 5.12 both more than a run higher than the average from the previous two seasons. His campaign to bounce back in 2020 never took off and he ended up on the wrong side of the small sample coin flip, ending the year with a 6.30 FIP and -0.4 WAR, career lows. He was designated for assignment in November.

Fresh off trading their former ace, Yu Darvish, the Chicago Cubs scooped Williams up on a low-risk, one-year deal for $2.5 million. From the Cubs’ point of view, the upside is clear. While Williams has had an awful go of it recently, he is only 28 years old and was once a capable fixture in a major league rotation. Williams (in the parlance of our times) shoved throughout spring training and earned himself the position as No. 4 starter in the Cubs’ rotation, but the question remains as to whether or not he can perform as he once did in 2017 and ’18.

Let’s rewind the tape a bit. Williams had a brief cup of coffee (one start and 12.2 total innings) in 2016 before starting the ’17 season in Pittsburgh’s bullpen. In the season lead-up, our own Eric Longenhagen had this to say of Williams:

“A lead-armed sinkerballer who dominated the International League with a low-90s fastball/sinker combo that he’d run up to 94, Williams made too many mistakes in the zone with that fastball and below-average changeup in his few big-league innings. He has an above-average slider and that pitch, down and in, is his best weapon against lefties. The command is going to need to come here if Williams is going to be more than a fifth- or sixth-starter type of arm.”

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Hunter Brown has helium. Under the radar until recently, the 22-year-old right-hander raised eyebrows during Fall Instructional League, and he continued to do so this spring with the Astros. A power arsenal is the reason why. Houston’s No. 3 prospect according to MLB Pipeline (our own rankings are forthcoming; he was ninth on last year’s list), Brown features a four-pitch mix that includes an explosive mid-90s heater and a hammer curveball.

His background befits the low profile he brought with him to pro ball. A Detroit native, Brown played collegiately at Division II Wayne State University, and he lasted until the penultimate pick of the fifth round of the 2019 draft. That he didn’t hear his name called earlier is yet another part of his underdog story.

Brown — currently at Houston’s alternate site awaiting the start of the minor-league campaign — addressed the path he’s taken, and the plus pitches that promise to take him to the top, shortly before the Astros broke camp to start the major-league season.

———

Laurila: You played at Wayne State. How did that come to be?

Hunter Brown: “I had the opportunity to do a little bit of catching, and hopefully pitch, at Eastern Michigan as well. But I was told by coach Ryan Kelley, over at Wayne State, that I’d be able to come in and play as a freshman. I knew I wasn’t going to get that opportunity at Eastern Michigan — I’d probably be catching bullpens and redshirting my freshman year — and I kind of wanted to go somewhere and play right away. I also probably would have gone to Wayne State for academics if I wasn’t going to end up playing college baseball, so it all worked out. I really liked downtown Detroit, so it was a great fit for me.”

Laurila: When did you start realizing you had a legitimate shot to play pro ball?

Brown: “Well, I wanted to play pro ball from as young as I can remember, but probably my sophomore-year summer when I was with the Bethesda Big Train in the Cal Ripken Summer League. That’s when I started really believing, because I played with some guys from the SEC, and power-five schools, and had a pretty good summer. That’s where I thought I made that jump and would be able to play pro ball someday.”

Laurila: What clicked for you? Read the rest of this entry »

Below is an analysis of the prospects in the farm system of the St. Louis Cardinals. Scouting reports were compiled with information provided by industry sources as well as my own observations. As there was no minor league season in 2020, there are some instances where no new information was gleaned about a player. Players whose write-ups have not been meaningfully altered begin by telling you so. Each blurb ends with an indication of where the player played in 2020, which in turn likely informed the changes to their report if there were any. As always, I’ve leaned more heavily on sources from outside of a given org than those within for reasons of objectivity. Because outside scouts were not allowed at the alternate sites, I’ve primarily focused on data from there, and the context of that data, in my opinion, reduces how meaningful it is. Lastly, in an effort to more clearly indicate relievers’ anticipated roles, you’ll see two reliever designations, both on my lists and on The Board: MIRP, or multi-inning relief pitcher, and SIRP, or single-inning relief pitcher.

For more information on the 20-80 scouting scale by which all of our prospect content is governed, you can click here. For further explanation of Future Value’s merits and drawbacks, read Future Value.

All of the numbered prospects here also appear on The Board, a resource the site offers featuring sortable scouting information for every organization. It can be found here.

Prospect writers Kevin Goldstein and Eric Longenhagen will sometimes have enough player notes to compile a scouting post. This is one of those dispatches, a collection of thoughts after another weekend of college baseball, a prospect trade, and minor league co-op action in Arizona. Remember, prospect rankings can be found on The Board.

Kevin’s Notes

Waldy Arias, 3B, Campbell: 3-for-9, 3 BB, K, 2 SB, 2 HBP

If you are here for hardcore draft info, skip to the next paragraph. If you want to have fun for a minute, stick around. Arias is a little junior third baseman at a mid-major program who is slugging .290. Nobody is going to print a magnet with his name on it come July. My question is why does he have so many enemies? With two more hit by pitches over the weekend, Arias has now been hit 16 times in 21 games. That’s nearly once every six plate appearances, which was his exact rate last year, when he got hit 12 times in 15 games. Arias is a pesky slap hitter who crowds the dish. His high front elbow hangs out over the plate and the overall setup reminds me a bit of a mini-Carlos Quentin, who took a fair number of pitches to the body in his career. With access to some of the video and data tools pro teams have, I was able to click a few buttons and watch all 16 HBP. Here are the results:

1. Curveball: Foot
2. Slider: Leg
3. Fastball: Thigh
4. Fastball: Thigh
5. Slider: Foot
6. Fastball: Thigh
7. Fastball: Elbow
8. Fastball: Elbow
9. Slider: Head
10. Fastball: Elbow
11. Changeup: Shoulder
12. Fastball: Back
13. Slider: Elbow
14. Fastball: Elbow
15. Changeup: Hand
16. Slider: Shoulder

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Just a few weeks ago, Julian Merryweather was fighting for a spot on the Blue Jays Opening Day roster. A back injury suffered early in spring training pushed his Grapefruit League debut back to mid-March and he struggled to get up to speed in such a compressed timeframe. But then Kirby Yates went down with an elbow injury that would require Tommy John, a couple of other pitchers were sidelined to start the season, and Merryweather just barely snuck onto Toronto’s 26-man roster on March 31.

The very next day, he was pitching in the 10th inning in Yankee Stadium, trying to hold a one-run lead on Opening Day. He came one pitch away from throwing an immaculate inning and ended up striking out the side to secure the win. Three days later, he was thrown into the fire again, this time being asked to protect a two-run lead in the bottom of the ninth. He recorded two more strikeouts in that outing and earned the second save of his career.

When I wrote about what the Blue Jays bullpen might look like without Yates a few weeks ago, Merryweather wasn’t even on my radar. Jordan Romano and Rafael Dolis have definitely been in the mix for high-leverage work — they threw in the eighth and ninth of that Opening Day victory paving the way for Merryweather’s appearance in the 10th. The quality of Merryweather’s stuff has been a revelation and has helped him emphatically declare his spot in the bullpen pecking order.

Merryweather was acquired by the Blue Jays in August of 2018 when Toronto traded Josh Donaldson to Cleveland right before the waiver trade deadline. It was viewed as a light return at the time since Merryweather had blown out his arm during the previous season and was in the middle of rehabbing from Tommy John surgery. He got back on the mound in 2019 but another arm injury limited him to just six minor league innings. Last season, he made his major league debut in September, showing impressive velocity and a starter’s repertoire out of the bullpen, but another elbow issue cut his season short after just 13 innings. Read the rest of this entry »

This is Carmen’s first piece as a FanGraphs contributor. Carmen is an engineer living in the Bay Area. Born and raised in Connecticut, his inherited Yankees fandom (yes, he can hear all of your grumbles) and curiosity about math and science combined to foster a fascination with how players contribute to run scoring and prevention, as did growing up reading the venerable pages of sabermetric havens such as FanGraphs, Baseball Prospectus, and Beyond the Boxscore. The accessibility of pitch-by-pitch Statcast data has allowed him to dig deeper into player and team tendencies and examine how each approaches the opposition, which he has written about at his own website, Sabermetric Musings. He hopes to use his skills and interests to contribute to the baseball discourse at large, as well as the website that played such a big part in making him the baseball observer he is today.

Vladimir Guerrero Jr. is a supremely talented hitter. In this season’s early going, he has already hit a ball 114.1 mph, swatted a home run, and has a couple of RBI to his name. Prior to his call-up in 2019, Eric Longenhagen and Kiley McDaniel rated him as the best prospect in baseball with a 70 Future Value. If you go to The Board, only five other players since 2017 have received such a grade: Wander Franco (now an 80), MacKenzie Gore, Gavin Lux, Yoán Moncada, and Shohei Ohtani. His specific combination of future tool grades, consisting of a 70 hit tool, 70 game power, and 80 raw power, is unrivaled in the dataset, a unique blend of elite bat-to-ball skills and game-changing power. At 19, he posted a 203 wRC+ in Double-A and a 175 wRC+ in Triple-A. The latter is especially impressive given that the average age of a Triple-A player is 28.

With those things in mind, you might say that what we have seen from the young phenom thus far is a bit disappointing. In 757 plate appearances through his age-21 season, Guerrero has posted a 107 wRC+. That places him 112th amongst all hitters since 2019 (for players with at least 500 plate appearances), sandwiched between the aging Robinson Canó and Omar Narváez. But I would note that context is key. Guerrero is one of only 10 players to receive 500 plate appearances through age 21. On that list, he ranks seventh in wRC+ behind Juan Soto, Fernando Tatis Jr., Cody Bellinger, Ronald Acuña Jr., and Carlos Correa. One could argue that four of those guys are on a Hall of Fame trajectory while the fifth (Correa) has been one of the top talents in the sport when he is not struggling with injury.

Guerrero is in rare company given the amount of big-league time he has logged at such a young age; that is an accomplishment in and of itself. But we are still left wanting more. How can he unlock his generational tools and become the hitter we hope he can be? I would argue the most glaring potential adjustment is to his swing plane. In 2019 and ’20, Guerrero posted groundball rates of 50.4% and 54.6%, respectively. The following represents his rolling average groundball rate in 25 groundball samples:

A whopping 68.5% of these samples yielded groundball rates above the major league average. Over the past two seasons, major league hitters have produced a .218 wOBA and .244 BABIP on groundballs compared to a .500 wOBA and .344 BABIP on batted balls in the air. Among the group of players with 500 plate appearances the past two seasons, Guerrero ranks 15th out of 226 players in the cohort. The frustrating part of this phenomenon is that he hits the ball exceptionally hard, to the point where if he put the ball in the air at closer to league average rates he would be a candidate to place amongst the league leaders in home runs and overall production.

To get a better idea of how Guerrero compares to sluggers with his prodigious power, I pulled the batted ball data from Baseball Savant (via Bill Petti’s baseballR package) for a select few right-handed hitters who posted comparable maximum exit velocities to Guerrero in ’19 and 2020. This list includes the following:

Max exit velocity is our best indication of a player’s raw power. We do not have to worry about a sufficient sample of plate appearances to see how that power plays in the game; all we care about is how hard the player can put the ball in play if he makes optimal contact. You, the reader, might gripe that it is difficult to use max exit velocity to gauge a player’s power. How do we know this is truly the hardest he can hit the ball? To that I say, yes, smart reader we definitely do not know if a player’s maximum exit velocity is actually the hardest he will hit the ball. But, I will say, we can reasonably confident that we are in range fairly quickly, based on research from Alex Chamberlain.

The main comparison I am interested in is the differences in approximate attack angle between these players. The concept was outlined in great detail by Jason Ochart at Driveline in this 2018 post, but the TLDR is it is the vertical angle (which is associated with the launch angle of a batted ball) of the bat as it goes to impact the baseball. Hitters can measure it with bat sensors or by parsing video.

Unfortunately, we do not have this information for major league hitters in games because they do not walk up to the plate with sensors on their bats. Instead of throwing our collective hands up, however, we can approximate attack angle with the data we do have access to. And fortunately, that has already been done. Back in 2017, David Marshall wrote an amazing piece on the Community Research blog here at FanGraphs reverse engineering attack angle from Statcast data. He concluded his post with an elegant linear equation approximating attack angle based on the launch angle of the top 20% of a player’s hardest hit batted balls. Anthony Shattell has also posted about data of this nature in the past, and I would highly-recommend scrolling through his feed for some batted ball related visuals; he uses the top 10% of hardest hit balls for his attack angle approximations. For this analysis, I arbitrarily took the top 5%. One might quibble with such a choice, but I think it gets the same point across.

Here are the estimated attack angles for the hitters in the table above based on my filtering criteria:

Stanton has the flattest swing in this group with an estimated attack angle of 8.74 degrees. Guerrero is even lower at 8.71 degrees. Stanton and Judge stick out in that they hit a ton of home runs but have noticeably flatter swings then the rest of the group. They make up for those flat swings by hitting the ball harder than anybody else in baseball. In the Statcast era (since 2015), Stanton has hit 28 balls over 118 mph, the most in the majors. Judge sits second with 10 (he was not a full-time regular until 2017). Third, despite his lack of experience in the big leagues, is Guerrero. If you just look at 2019 and ’20, Vlad is tied for the most with Stanton. Guerrero and his power are in rare company. What’s more, Stanton and Judge have career strikeout rates of 28.1% and 31.4%. Guerrero’s sits at just 17.0%. Even though he doesn’t have quite the same amount of juice on contact as the Yankees outfielders, he makes up for it by putting the ball in play much more often, albeit on the ground. Stanton and Judge have career groundball rates of 42.2% and 38.5%, respectively, with the former about league average and the latter about a standard deviation below it.

Guerrero is still a step behind Stanton and Judge with regards to power, so any large increase in extra base hits (where he has been slightly above league average in terms of the percentage of his total plate appearances) will have to come from either hitting the ball harder or putting more balls in the air. In my own research, I found that maximum exit velocity peaks around age 26 and average exit velocity on balls in the air peaks around 30. So maybe there is some power Guerrero can still squeeze out of his bat. Given that he is already inside the top 1% in raw power, however, I am dubious of how much room for growth there is in that department. What about swing plane? There is precedence for young hitters changing their distribution of batted balls.

More often than not, these young talented hitters saw performance boosts when putting the ball in the air more. That is not to say Guerrero will definitely see a bump in production if he focuses on hitting the ball in the air. It could mess with his swing for all I know. But I do believe that there is room for him to add some loft in his swing, even at the expense of more whiffs. His strikeout rate is close to six percentage points below the league average. There is a trade-off to be had there that can make him the fearsome hitter we all believe he can be.

Guerrero is still very young and has a lot of room to grow as a hitter. The projection systems seem to agree. The FanGraphs Depth Charts projections see him putting up a .360 wOBA in 2021, 23rd in baseball. THE BAT X, which to my knowledge most explicitly leverages existing Statcast data, is even more optimistic. It sees a .376 wOBA in Vlad’s future, placing him 11th in the league and sandwiching him in between Yordan Alvarez and Judge.

When you consider his pedigree coming into the majors, his high-end bat control (as evidenced by his strikeout rate), and his nearly unmatched power, I still think these projection systems are a little light on what to expect from Vlad Jr. going forward. His combination of skills should put him in the conversation to be among the best hitters in baseball, the type who is in the MVP conversation throughout his 20s. Let’s hope he can make the necessary adjustments and grow into that kind of player starting this season.