Fernando Valenzuela: Legendary Pitcher and International Representative

On October 23, 1981 in Los Angeles, the Dodgers found themselves in an all-too-familiar spot: on the short end of a World Series tally against the Yankees. Down two games to none after the first leg of the series in the Bronx, they needed a win at Dodger Stadium to maintain any real hope of a comeback. Fortunately, they had an ace up their sleeve in Fernando Valenzuela. The portly 20-year-old Mexican southpaw had seemingly emerged from nowhere to become an overnight sensation, when he opened the season with eight straight wins, five of them shutouts. He would not be as stingy on this night, instead gritting out an 147-pitch complete game, working around nine hits and seven walks with what felt like unlimited reserves of guile and moxie — a Herculean effort that recalled Luis Tiant’s 155-pitch grind in Game 4 of the 1975 World Series. The Dodgers’ 5-4 victory turned the World Series around; they won the next three games as well, taking the series in six without needing their young ace again.

Sadly, just three days away from the first World Series rematch between the two storied franchises since then, Valenzuela died on Tuesday at the age of 63. No cause of death was given. In late September, he left his role as one of the team’s Spanish-language broadcasters and was hospitalized; on October 2, the Dodgers announced that he had stepped away “to focus on his health,” and that his family had “asked for privacy during this time.” The Dodgers announced on Thursday that they will wear a patch in his honor, both for the World Series and for 2025.

This is an absolutely heartbreaking turn of events, not only for the Dodgers and their fans but for the baseball world in Southern California and beyond. Valenzuela wasn’t just a star pitcher, he was a beloved global ambassador who brought generations of Mexican American and Latino fans to baseball and helped to heal the wounds caused by the building of the very ballpark in which he starred. His appeal was hardly limited to those who shared his background. For me, an 11-year-old baseball nut and third-generation Dodgers fan growing up in Salt Lake City, Valenzuela was a contemporary hero, a magical player whose superhuman feats made anything seem possible. The phenom whose box scores I clipped from the Salt Lake Tribune became the equalizer who helped avenge the team’s back-to-back losses to the Yankees in the 1977 and ’78 World Series, at the dawn of my baseball consciousness.

Despite speaking barely a word of English, Valenzuela had become an international celebrity in 1981, charming the baseball world — and expanding its reach — with his bashful smile while bedeviling hitters with impeccable command of his screwball, delivered following a high leg kick and a skyward gaze at the peak of his windup. Fans flocked to his games in Los Angeles and elsewhere, setting off Fernandomania. Valenzuela graced the cover of Sports Illustrated less than two months into his rookie season, and soon afterward was invited to the White House. In Daybreak at Chavez Ravine, a 2023 biography, author Erik Sherman described the pitcher as baseball’s version of the Beatles, a composite of the Fab Four with a universal appeal.

Valenzuela won the 1981 NL Rookie of the Year and Cy Young awards, made six consecutive All-Star teams during a 17-season major league career, and then spent the past 22 seasons in his broadcasting role. In 2019, the team included him within their inaugural class of Legends of Dodger Baseball. In 2023, the Dodgers dedicated a full Fernandomania Weekend in his honor. The festivities culminated with the retirement of his jersey no. 34, which equipment manager Mitch Poole had kept out of circulation since his 1991 release. The franchise had almost exclusively limited jersey retirements to Hall of Famers, but the move befit Valenzuela’s iconic stature with the team and within the larger community. The lone exception to the policy came in 1978, when coach Jim Gilliam, who had starred for the Dodgers during a 1953–66 run, died of a brain hemorrhage on October 8, the day after the Dodgers won the NLCS.

“Roberto Clemente is ‘The Great One,’ but culturally, Fernando Valenzuela has been more significant in terms of bringing a fan base that didn’t exist in baseball,” José de Jesus Ortiz, the first Latino president of the BBWAA, told Sherman for Daybreak. In the New York Times, Scott Miller reported that the Dodgers estimate that more than 40% of their current fan base is Hispanic.

My favorite photo of Fernando Valenzuela, because it captures the joy and the magic of Fernandomania. The boy shaking his hand is proud to wear his charro outfit, proud to be exactly who he is. Fernandomania was all about the power of representation and the power of authenticity. pic.twitter.com/s9LzchocCy

— Nathalie Alonso (@NathalieMLB) October 23, 2024

“He is one of the most influential Dodgers ever and belongs on the Mount Rushmore of franchise heroes,” Stan Kasten, team president and CEO, said in a statement. “He galvanized the fan base with the Fernandomania season of 1981 and has remained close to our hearts ever since, not only as a player but also as a broadcaster. He has left us all too soon.”

For his career, Valenzuela went 173-153 with a 3.54 ERA (104 ERA+), 31 shutouts, and 2,074 strikeouts in 2,930 innings. In addition to winning the Cy Young, he placed among the top five in voting three other times. He sparkled in October, going 5-1 with a 1.98 ERA in 63 2/3 innings. In eight postseason starts, he allowed more than three runs just once, in the aforementioned World Series game.

Valenzuela didn’t exactly come out of nowhere, but the 150-person town of Etchohuaquila, Mexico, where he was born on November 1, 1960, was the humblest of beginnings. He was the youngest of 12 children of parents Avelino and María, farmers who lived in a house with dirt and concrete floors, no electricity and no running water. “The family is very, very poor. The farm is about half the size of the Dodger Stadium infield, about from shortstop to home plate,” superscout Mike Brito (he of the omnipresent Panama hat and radar gun) told Sports Illustrated’s Steve Wulf for a March 23, 1981 feature on the rookie. While growing up, Valenzuela and his six older brothers earned additional money working on a nearby ranch in the afternoons.

As a youngster, Fernando played soccer as well as baseball. By age 13, he had joined his brothers on the town team. The oldest, Rafael, marveled at his arm strength, telling Fernando, “You have the arm to be a pitcher.”

In 1976, the 15-year-old Valenzuela signed his first professional contract with the Mayos de Navojoa of the Mexican Pacific League, a winter league; they farmed him out to their affiliate, Cafeteros de Tepic. The next year, he signed with Puebla of the Mexican Central League, and in turn the team loaned him to the Guanajuato Tuzos, for whom he went 5-6 with a 2.23 ERA and a league-high 91 strikeouts. After the MCL was absorbed into the Mexican League the following year, Valenzuela went 10-12 with a 2.49 ERA and 141 strikeouts for Leones de Yucatán.

The Cuban-born Brito, who had caught in the Washington Senators organization in the mid-1950s, spotted Valenzuela while scouting Silao shortstop Ali Uscanga in a game against Guanajuato, a start in which Valenzuela struck out 12 batters. The next year, Brito brought Dodgers general manager Al Campanis to Mexico to see Valenzuela pitch. After protracted negotiations, the Dodgers paid Puebla owner Jaime Avella $120,000 — $20,000 of which went to the pitcher. Avella honored a commitment to give the Dodgers first crack at Valenzuela despite the Yankees’ offering $150,000.

In late 1979, Valenzuela made an impressive three-start stateside debut with the Dodgers’ A-level Lodi affiliate, and was sent to the Arizona Instructional League, where his future Dodgers teammate Bobby Castillo — a Brito discovery who had washed out as an infielder in the Royals organization, and then dominated as a pitcher in 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 fast and slow versions of the pitch.

Valenzuela proved a quick study, more than holding his own as a 19-year-old at Double-A San Antonio in 1980. The Dodgers called him up after a stretch in which he’d gone 7-0 with a 0.87 ERA and 78 strikeouts in 62 innings, a Texas League dry run for the coming streak. Even as a virtual unknown, he drew increasingly loud ovations upon entering games, particularly because he was just the second native Mexican to pitch for the Dodgers since their move to L.A. — significant given the franchise’s original sin of evicting nearly 2,000 Mexican American families from the Chavez Ravine barrio to build Dodger Stadium, which opened in 1962. According to Jaime Jarrín, the Dodgers’ Ford Frick Award-winning Spanish-language broadcaster from 1959–2022, owner Walter O’Malley sought “a Mexican Sandy Koufax“ in order to grow the fan base. “He realized it was very, very important to please the Mexican community in Southern California, because he knew that they were going to come to the ballpark,” Jarrín told the Los Angeles Times for a 2021 documentary series, Fernandomania at 40.

Valenzuela arrived amid a tight NL West race. The Dodgers had gone 20-5 from August 19 to September 14 but gained just two games on the division-leading Astros. Debuting on September 15 with two innings of relief against the Braves, Valenzuela struck out Jerry Royster but allowed two unearned runs stemming from errors by his infielders. Four days later, he threw three shutout innings against the Reds, striking out Johnny Bench and three others. Quickly gaining the trust of manager Tommy Lasorda, he was thrust into high-leverage situations — and he dominated. In 17 2/3 innings, he allowed just eight hits and five walks while striking out 16; he didn’t yield a single earned run. The Dodgers ended the 162-game schedule by beating the Astros in three straight games to tie them at 92-70. While Valenzuela would have been an inspired choice to start the tiebreaker game, he’d worked two innings the day before, so Lasorda instead tabbed Dave Goltz, who got shellacked; the Dodgers trailed 7-1 by the time Valenzuela turned in two shutout innings.

The wait till next year included considerable hype. The Dodgers featured Valenzuela on the back of their 1981 media guide, Fleer issued a standalone rookie card, and SI’s Wulf penned the aforementioned profile, writing, “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.”

With staff stalwart Don Sutton departing via 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 compete with Sutcliffe and Goltz for a rotation spot behind Jerry Reuss, Burt Hooton, and Bob Welch, Valenzuela won the battle, then was tabbed to fill in for Reuss, who suffered a calf strain, on Opening Day. Facing the Astros in front of 50,511 fans at Dodger Stadium, he spun a five-hit shutout, striking out five over the course of 106 pitches. He was off to the races.

Both Valenzuela’s San Diego and Houston starts were on three days of rest, for some reason; in the latter, he drove in the game’s only run. Within 24 hours, the Dodgers sold out all of the reserved seats for his next start at Dodger Stadium — an unprecedented occurrence, as team vice president Fred Claire told SI. The word “Fernandomania” made its debut in print atop a Scott Ostler column in the April 27 Los Angeles Times; within, 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 Times printed a copy of his birth certificate.

In front of 49,478 fans for just his second home start, Valenzuela blanked the Giants while going 3-for-4 and again driving in the game’s first run. The streak, which had helped the Dodgers to a sizzling 14-3 start, led SI’s Jim Kaplan to write about “The Epidemic of Fernando Fever” for its May 4 edition:

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.

The increased media attention led the Dodgers to limit Valenzuela’s availability on the road to one press conference on his first day in town, and another after he pitched. At Montreal’s Olympic Stadium, he ran his scoreless streak to 36 innings before surrendering the game-tying run; he yielded to a pinch-hitter in the top of the 10th, during which the Dodgers scored five runs. Kaplan checked in again in New York for what would



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