By Scott Miller
The story seems like something from a fairy tale. A bashful, portly teenager from a tiny speck of a town in Mexico, the youngest of 12 children who grew up in a home with no running water, debuts with the Los Angeles Dodgers at 19.
His left arm is seemingly gifted from the heavens, which also uncannily is the direction he glances — skyward, uniquely and unforgettably — at the apex of his windup on each pitch. And at 20, in the glorious summer of 1981, with that majestic windup and magnetic charisma, “Fernandomania” roared to life. Fernando Valenzuela, the paunchy and enigmatic left-hander, had a season for the ages.
It was incredible at the time, still almost too good to be true today — and yet there was absolutely nothing folkloristic about it.
“He really did wonders not only for the Dodgers, but for baseball in general,” said Jaime Jarrín, the team’s Hall of Fame Spanish-language broadcaster. “Because he was the center of attention not only with Latinos, but with Anglos as well.
“People realized he was an extraordinary pitcher,” said Jarrín, who retired in 2022 after 64 years in the booth. “People from Mexico, central Mexico, who were indifferent to baseball, they all liked boxing, but Fernando had that magic touch that made people start wondering about baseball and coming to the stadium.”
Valenzuela, who died at 63 last Tuesday evening, won the National League’s Rookie of the Year and Cy Young awards in 1981. To this day, no one else in the majors has won those honors in the same season.
He was tabbed by manager Tommy Lasorda as the team’s opening day starter in 1981 only because veteran pitcher Jerry Reuss sustained a late-spring injury. By season’s end, neither the Dodgers nor the Southern California baseball landscape would ever be the same. Valenzuela threw a shutout against Houston to start the season. Then, after tossing another complete game in his next start, against San Francisco, he unspooled three consecutive shutouts, then another complete game and then yet another shutout. In his first eight starts in 1981, Valenzuela went 8-0 with a 0.50 ERA.
“In those days there was no internet so the only way to get in touch with the community was by telephone calls and letters,” Jarrín said. “I was swamped by calls. Everybody was calling me about Fernando.”
The fuse was lit among fans and nonfans alike. The Dodgers had left Brooklyn for Los Angeles for the 1958 season. They were not universally welcomed. As popular and beloved as the Dodgers have become, one of the unfortunate realities is that neighborhoods and families, most of them Hispanic, were displaced in Chavez Ravine, which is where the team eventually built Dodger Stadium.
The Dodgers’ owner at the time, Walter O’Malley, recognizing the area’s demographics, added a Spanish-language radio broadcast in 1959 — that’s when Jarrín debuted — and it wasn’t long before O’Malley publicly stated that what the team needed was a Mexican version of the team’s ace, Sandy Koufax. Little did he know whom super-scout Mike Brito would discover within two decades in Etchohuaquila, Mexico.
“He made it look so simple,” Rick Monday, a former Dodgers outfielder who is in his 31st season in the team’s radio booth, said of Valenzuela. “And at times we said, ‘How does this young guy from a remote part of Mexico come up here and make this type of an impact to where he’s in total control, including his emotions?’”
Single-handedly, the shy, quiet kid at the center of the storm was bridging cultures as the area’s heavy Hispanic population took immense pride in one of their own.
José Mota was 14 when he first met Valenzuela, in 1980. His father, famed Dodgers pinch-hitter Manny Mota, was wrapping up a 20-year career and José already had a plan in place to follow his passion.
“Man, when he came in it was like, ‘He’s not just a Hispanic player. He’s one of the Mexican players who came from nowhere,’” said José Mota, who briefly played in the majors as an infielder with San Diego and Kansas City and is now in his second season on the Dodgers’ Spanish-language broadcast. “So there’s the identification with the labor, right? The blue-collar labor. We’re going, ‘Hey, he’s one of us. Let’s go see him.’”
During the 1981 season, which was interrupted by a two-month strike in June and July, the Dodgers averaged 42,523 fans per game — but that number swelled to 48,430 during each of Valenzuela’s home starts. To that point, it was the Dodgers’ highest-ever attendance.
“Latino attendance exploded,” Mota said. “You started seeing different colors around. People started wearing their Mexican outfits to the games.”
He added, “People would call into the Dodgers’ office sometimes on the day after he pitched and ask, ‘Is he pitching today?’”
The ballpark was filled with fans wearing Fernando T-shirts and sombreros, waving the Mexican flag. Around town, the Dodgers themselves would be asked incessantly about one player. Monday would stop by the grocery store for something and get peppered with Fernando questions.
Fernandomania was in full bloom by June 1981, when President Ronald Reagan invited Valenzuela to a state luncheon with the president of Mexico, José López Portillo. Attending with Valenzuela was Jarrín, who by then had become the pitcher’s translator, confidant and all-around friend.
“That was something very uniquely special, one of my greatest experiences,” Jarrín said. “Because this kid, 20 years old, a little chubby, long hair, no words of English, being the center of attention for the most powerful man in the country, President Reagan. Vice President Bush was there, the attorney general, the secretary of defense, and all of them were waiting for this kid to sign a baseball for them. It was unbelievable.”
Valenzuela also helped bring attention to baseball talent in Mexico. Before his debut in 1980, fewer than 40 players from Mexico had reached the majors. As of April, according to MLB.com, that number stood at 147.
Closer to home, the Dodgers have internal surveys estimating that more than 40% of their current fan base is Hispanic.
Vin Scully, the Dodgers’ longtime Hall of Fame broadcaster, once described Fernandomania as bordering on a “religious experience.” Stan Kasten, the Dodgers’ president and CEO, said last Tuesday night that Valenzuela “belongs on the Mount Rushmore of Dodgers heroes.”
Mota said something similar, in a different way.
“When you say No. 34, that’s all you have to say,” Mota said, referring to Valenzuela’s uniform number.
That Valenzuela died three days before the Dodgers opened the World Series against the New York Yankees, and on the eve of the 43rd anniversary of his win in Game 3 of the 1981 Series over the Yankees, is one of those inexplicable threads that, somehow, continues to stitch together generations. It also reflects a sharp contrast between yesterday’s romantic hagiographies and today’s sharp truths: Where the Dodgers were planning to use a series of relievers in either Game 3 or 4, rather than a traditional starter, Valenzuela powered through all nine innings of the Dodgers’ 5-4 Game 3 win in 1981, throwing 147 pitches along the way.
It was no fairy tale.
MLB PLAYOFFS
World Series (Best of 7)
Friday’s Game 1
Los Angeles Dodgers 6, New York Yankees 3
Saturday’s Game 2
Dodgers 4, Yankees 2
Monday’s Game 3
Dodgers 4, Yankees 2 (LA leads series 3-0)
Tuesday’s Game 4
(All times Eastern)
Dodgers at Yankees, 8:08 p.m.
Today’s Game 5 (if necessary)
Dodgers at Yankees, 8:08 p.m. (FOX)
Game 6 (if necessary)
Friday, Nov. 1
Yankees at Dodgers, 8:08 p.m. (FOX)
Game 7 (if necessary)
Saturday, Nov. 2
Yankees at Dodgers, 8:08 p.m. (FOX)
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