Dodgers to Fernando: You’re Out!

Fernando Valenzuela, the portly left-hander who pitched his way into the heart of the city, and particularly its Latino barrios, was released Thursday by the Dodgers, bringing an abrupt close to a decade-old phenomenon known as Fernandomania.

Dodger officials said they placed Valenzuela, 30, on waivers because he could not regain his spectacular form of the early 1980s. During his career, the team won four National League West titles and two World Series championships. But the last two seasons, his record was 23-26 with a 4.02 earned-run average. His career record with the Dodgers was 141-116.

Word of the close of Valenzuela’s Dodger career, and by extension the end of Fernandomania, swept along the streets of East Los Angeles where the storybook rise of an unorthodox athlete from a small Mexican pueblo electrified the populace. The news was not well-received.

“He has been a symbol for the Hispanic community,” said Jose de Jesus Gonzales, 42, who remembered visits Valenzuela made to East Los Angeles parks along with former Dodger Pedro Guerrero and coach Manny Mota. “For me, it’s a great loss.”

Valenzuela will remain on waivers until Tuesday, during which time he can be claimed by any team willing to pay his full $2.55-million salary. If he is not claimed by Tuesday, he would become a free agent and could make a deal with any team.

Valenzuela insisted he has more screwballs in his once unbeatable left arm.

“My career is not over,” he said quietly at the Dodgers’ Vero Beach, Fla., training camp. “In the ‘80s, it was the Dodgers and me. In the ‘90s, it will be another team and me.”

The Dodgers defended the decision, saying it made good baseball sense to release a six-time All-Star who won the National League’s Rookie of the Year and Cy Young awards in 1981.

“All great careers must come to an end,” Dodger owner Peter O’Malley said.

“I think the fans will understand this. It is the responsibility of our front office to give (Manager) Tommy (Lasorda) the players we feel can make the best contribution to the season. This is something we had to do.”

Most Dodger fans will remember Valenzuela for two incredible months in 1981, when the rookie pitcher tore through the best hitters in the National League, winning his first eight games without a loss.

Spanish-speaking fans lovingly christened him with the nickname “El Gordo” (The Chubby One). Nuns said they prayed for him on days he was scheduled to pitch. Valenzuela was mobbed by thousands of fans when he dared to make an appearance at an Eastside school or park.

As Fernandomania came to life, Mexican-American fans flocked in unprecedented numbers to Dodger Stadium. At its peak, the stadium organist replaced standard ballpark tunes with Spanish boleros such as “Sabor a mi” and “Quizas, Quizas.”

While all Dodger fans could debate Thursday the merits of the move, for denizens of barrios such as San Fernando and Boyle Heights this was a loss that transcended mere sport. This was a cultural setback.

Ceferino and Irene Sanchez remembered that the opening of their East Los Angeles watch store in 1981 coincided with Valenzuela’s first full year with the Dodgers.

The couple raffled Dodgers tickets to spark business. And their small store thrived and prospered as Valenzuela, then 21, led the Dodgers to the World Series championship.

“It gave us so much happiness to see a Mexicano doing so well,” said Irene, 50. “And he was so young. . . . We followed every step (of his career); when they interviewed him on TV with his parents, when he got married, when he had his kids.”

Ceferino said he was saddened by Valenzuela’s departure. “That’s the way things are here (in this country). Everything is about money.”

Valenzuela’s legend was fueled by the story of his humble origins. In countless newspaper stories, fans learned that he was the youngest of 12 children and only one of eight Valenzuelas on the baseball team in his hometown of Etchohuaquila, Mexico.

The kid from Etchohuaquila rose through the Mexican minor leagues before making his first relief appearance for the Dodgers in 1980.

Many saw Valenzuela as a community benefactor, who served as a role model to young people, proving they too could accomplish anything if they set their minds to it.

In 1985, Valenzuela visited San Fernando High School. Speaking through an interpreter, he urged the young students to stay in school.

“He had a profound impact,” said Steve Marden, the school’s baseball coach. “He will go down in history as the guy who brought baseball to this place, as the guy who let these kids knew they could get it done.”

Raymond Rivera, a 15-year-old pitcher for the San Fernando High Tigers, grew up with images of Valenzuela setting down frustrated hitters with his sharp-breaking screwball, delivered with a signature eyes-to-the-sky windup.

“I don’t think they should have let him go,” said Rivera. “He still has two or three more years. He wasn’t a hot dog. He didn’t mouth off. He did his job.”

Although Fernandomania became less manic in recent years as the left-hander’s fortunes declined, portraits of Valenzuela are still common in barrio homes and storefronts. A large painted portrait of Valenzuela hangs over the Continental Sporting Goods store in Boyle Heights. Owner Mario Bernal, 65, said he has no plans to remove it.

“It’s going to stay there,” said Bernal. “Maybe we have to change the name (on the uniform), that’s all.”

Another Boyle Heights resident, 40-year-old Antonio Valadez, was so angry about Valenzuela’s release that he was considering whether to launch a petition drive to force the Dodgers to keep him.

“Let’s throw some politics at the Dodgers,” Valadez said in Spanish. “Let him stay. . . . There are other players in the league older than he is.”

At Salazar Park, Ruben Chacon, 52, saw sociology in the rocket rise and cruel crash of Valenzuela’s Dodger career.

“They used him, they abused him,” Chacon said. “While he was filling the stadium, it was OK. Now that that guy is down and low, they drop him. That’s sports.”

Tobar reported from Los Angeles and Plaschke reported from Vero Beach, Fla. Times staff writer Sebastian Rotella contributed to this story.

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