A Great Weekend to Take in a No-Hitter or Three

Fernando, you looked marvelous.

And, Stew, that was some kind of Cy of relief.

Be thankful today that neither of you pitch for the New York Yankees.

An amazing weekend: Two pitchers throw no-hitters on the same night--and one of them isn’t Nolan Ryan. Two days later, a Yankee throws a no-hitter and loses, 4-0. That’s three in three days, five in a month and six in less than half a season.

Any less offense and we’ll have another World Cup on our hands.

Already, Andy Hawkins is kicking himself. He was fortunate enough to no-hit the Chicago White Sox on Sunday--and unfortunate enough to do it while backed by the Yankee defense. Two fly balls were dropped and four unearned White Sox came home, events that undoubtedly had to stump Merrill.

Stranger still, however, was Friday night, when Fernando Valenzuela and Dave Stewart became the first men this century to pitch no-hitters on the same date. A double no-no. A no-no-no-no. A pair of hitless games in different leagues and in different countries, separated by only a few sweeps of the hour hand.

Except for Ryan, it couldn’t happen to a couple of nicer guys. You always pull for Ryan--he’s 43, all-natural and apparently still in need of ammunition in a ludicrous Hall of Fame debate that should’ve been put to bed a decade ago. But on a night Ryan doesn’t pitch, it would be tough locating two more worthy rooting interests than the former Dodger teammates Valenzuela and Stewart.

For nine seasons now, Valenzuela has been the Dodgers’ Incredible Shrinking Pitcher. In 1981, the year of his miracle breakthrough, Fernando was larger than life. He was Dodger baseball, National League baseball, major league baseball. Five shutouts and eight victories in his first eight decisions. The league lead in strikeouts. The NL Cy Young Award. The NL rookie of the year award.

And that was just for the pitching.

Fernando also hit better than some of his infielders. He fielded everything that was dribbled, bunted, chopped and lined around the mound. He ran the bases with, shall we say, a crazed virtuosity. He was a tremendous athlete, trapped inside a body that resembled a bag of melted caramels.

A movement was formed. Fernandomania. Journalistic pilgrimages were made to Valenzuela’s birthplace in Navajoa, Mexico, to unearth the roots of the story. Frenzied mobs formed outside the Dodger ticket offices in anticipation of Fernando’s next start. Talk-show callers and letter writers, having studied the pudgy frame and the broad features splattered across his face, wondered, in total seriousness, if we weren’t witnessing the reincarnation of Babe Ruth.

Ensuing years ebbed at Fernando’s stature. He won 19 games in 1982, lost 17 in 1984, won 21 in 1986 and broke even, 14-14, in 1987. He had blended into the scenery, just another dependable starter, just another stable ship in a sea of Doc Goodens, Frank Violas and Mike Scotts.

Then, the arm gave out and Fernando was all but forgotten. He missed the last half of the 1988 season, and the trip to World Series fantasyland that came with it, sitting idly by while being replaced in Dodger hearts and minds by Orel Hershiser.

Fernando was hit with a fate worse than retirement. Still shy of his 29th birthday, he was moved to the past tense. He became Exhibit A in the escalating argument that the Dodgers abuse their starting pitchers. When Hershiser ultimately took his turn under the knife, Valenzuela resurfaced as a point of reference. Well, look what happened to Fernando.

Stewart, who played with Valenzuela from 1981 to 1983, has played out his career almost in reverse. A fringe talent early on, he bounced from the Dodgers to Texas to Philadelphia, gaining more notoriety for a lewd-conduct arrest with a transvestite than anything he did or didn’t do on the mound.

Ultimately, he was released by the Phillies and signed by Oakland. The A’s weren’t expecting much, maybe some help in middle relief. But Stewart had been tinkering with a new pitch, the split-fingered fastball, and once he mastered it, near the end of the 1986 season, his life changed.

In 1987, he became a 20-game winner. And again in 1988. And again in 1989. He won a World Series ring. He won a World Series MVP trophy.

But the one thing he didn’t win--the Cy Young Award--never failed to obscure that story line. Dave Stewart has become the Best Pitcher Who Can’t Win the Cy Young. It beats talking about Lucille, no doubt, but Stewart longs for the day when he can get through one interview without a question about the missing piece of hardware in his Oakland home.

Finally, a month ago, it looked as if it wouldn’t take longer. Stewart won his first five decisions and was 9-3 before hitting June and hitting the skids.

Three straight losses left him at 9-6. The slump also left him behind teammates (Bob Welch), old sparring mates (Roger Clemens), Angels (Chuck Finley) and even Eric King (!) in the latest American League Cy Young derby.

Stewart needed to make a move. A bold move is what he came up with. On Friday evening, he no-hit the Toronto Blue Jays, 5-0, thus throwing the first hitless game inside the SkyDome.

That’s one way of turning momentum.

Stewart has never actually been jobbed out of the Cy Young. In 1987, Clemens had a better earned-run average. In 1988, Viola won more games. And in 1989, no one, Stewart included, couldn’t object to Bret Saberhagen.

But as Fernando knows, a pitcher’s brightest light flashes only briefly and Stewart could be running out of chances. If not this year, when? But now, he’s halfway to 20 victories again, his ERA is in the 2.50 range--and, in case of a tiebreaker, he has the no-hitter.

Timing, timing. Amid the many ironies played out in Toronto and Los Angeles Friday night was Valenzuela no-hitting the St. Louis Cardinals while Hershiser looked on from the disabled list. Fortunes change so quickly. Last year, the Dodgers drew criticism for shelling out $2 million to re-sign a pitcher who went 10-13 in 1989. Today, Fernando has the look of a long-time keeper.

No, Valenzuela and Stewart couldn’t have picked better moments to notch their places in history. To borrow from Ernie Banks, it was a great day to no-hit two.