Tim Lincecum's Hall of Fame case defined by peak, steep fall
By Pedro Moura
FOX Sports MLB Writer
Editor's Note: The results of the Hall of Fame election will be announced on Jan. 25. In anticipation, FOX Sports MLB Writers are looking at their favorite names on the ballot, even if they aren't headed to Cooperstown. Pedro Moura begins with a look back at the shooting-star career of Tim Lincecum.
I covered Tim Lincecum in 2016, near the end, when he had one of the worst statistical seasons of this century.
His last start was in his hometown, Seattle, where he rose to stardom during the mid-aughts. During that seven-out, six-run outing, I spoke by phone with his high school coach from the back of the Safeco Field press box.
"He just doesn’t seem to have the velocity that he carried for so long," Glen Walker said that night. "It hurts to see him struggle. But at the same time, we reflect on how good he has been. Watching him develop the way he did, we were ecstatic. Everyone told him he couldn’t make it. And let’s be honest, there’s only so many Roger Clemens out there."
Let’s be honest: Lincecum, like Clemens, isn’t going to make the Hall of Fame this year. The former Giant is on the ballot, but he will almost assuredly fall off it because of a shortage of votes. Only four of more than 150 public ballots tracked by Ryan Thibodaux have included Lincecum’s name.
And it’s not exactly as if he warrants more votes. His track record doesn’t match Clemens’. Nor does it match those of the men already in the Hall of Fame.
But his peak sure does.
From 2008 to 2011 with San Francisco, Lincecum was probably the best pitcher in the world. He was definitely the most beloved. At no more than 5-foot-11 and maybe 170 pounds, he averaged 220 innings per season and a 2.81 ERA. He won two Cy Young Awards and earned votes the two other years.
Outside those four seasons, though, he was thoroughly mediocre, pitching to a 4.77 ERA over 800 innings. Those struggles made his successes look even more outrageous.
Now, Lincecum is not the only pitcher to log four seasons of dominance, then drop off. Plenty of lesser names have flirted with similar stretches.
But the difference was how famous his run made him. During those four years, Lincecum was perhaps the most famous man in the sport, the subject of a SportsCenter commercial and endless speculation. He endeared Giants fans with his relaxed, carefree demeanor.
Lincecum was always different than most of his peers — at the beginning and at the end. He in no way behaved like he was famous, like he wanted to be famous or like he had ever been famous.
After Lincecum signed with the Angels a month into the 2016 season, his father was one of the few non-employees who attended his extended spring debut on an Arizona back field, nervously pacing the baselines as he watched.
That was the summer of Pokémon Go, and Lincecum was a faithful player. Contemporaneously, he enjoyed the "Damn, Daniel" meme and regularly recited it around teammate Daniel Nava. He elongated conversations. He just wanted to hang out.
His time with the Angels lasted only nine starts. The afternoon after that outing in Seattle, the Angels designated him for assignment.
Minutes after the club announced the move, Lincecum walked by himself out of the Safeco Field tunnel, rarely to be heard from again. He did accept an assignment to Triple-A and, two years later, another in the Texas Rangers' organization. But he never made it back to the big leagues.
He might not speak in public again, but he won’t soon be forgotten. Fortunately, the Giants won three World Series during Lincecum's San Francisco tenure. Funnily enough, he was already in decline for the second and third, but both times, he pitched well in relief in the World Series.
Lincecum’s career, as shortened as it feels, checks most of the boxes we like to see out of Hall of Famers, plus some additional ones. He dominated. He won it all. He completed rare single-game feats. He electrified a fan base. He inspired the next generation of pitchers to maximize their musculature in search of additional velocity and movement.
The only thing he didn’t do was last.
Surely, that will soon cost him a place in the Hall of Fame, a spot it looked like he might earn when he was 26. But the good thing is that no matter how much of a recluse he becomes in middle age, no matter how many pitchers eclipse his statistical feats and velocity-to-pound ratio records, Lincecum will forever be famous.
Pedro Moura is the national baseball writer for FOX Sports. He most recently covered the Dodgers for three seasons for The Athletic. Previously, he spent five years covering the Angels and Dodgers for the Orange County Register and L.A. Times. More previously, he covered his alma mater, USC, for ESPNLosAngeles.com. The son of Brazilian immigrants, he grew up in the Southern California suburbs. Follow him on Twitter @pedromoura.