Lowell Cohn: Tim Lincecum’s baseball future a big question mark

The Angels released Tim Lincecum last weekend. Maybe you hadn’t heard. One online bunch, cbssports.com, shoved this headline onto their news story: The Angels Pull the plug on their failed Tim Lincecum experiment.

You get an image of Lincecum shooting down a bathtub drain.

The Angels needed a starting pitcher and signed Lincecum in May when no one else - including the Giants - seemed particularly interested. Baseball is a bottom-line business, a business without a heart. Lincecum made his Angels debut on June 18 at the Oakland Coliseum, gave up one run in six innings. The Angels won. And you thought, “Timmy always performs miracles and this is the latest.”

But that start wasn’t a miracle. It was an illusion. His record is 2-6, with a 9.16 earned run average, more like a stock price than an ERA. The Angels, going nowhere, couldn’t keep him around even for appearances. So they cut him loose.

He is coming off hip surgery and maybe he isn’t recovered. He’s only 32, young to be finished. But there’s the thought he is finished. He has a small body and he always gave everything. Depleted. Drained. On empty. Career over.

I wanted to know more about Lincecum - everyone around here wants to know about Lincecum - so I emailed my friend Jeff Fletcher, who covers the Angels for the Orange County Register. Fletcher is one of the premier baseball writers in America. His name may sound familiar to you. For years, he wrote baseball for The Press Democrat. We were lucky to have him.

I asked Jeff about Lincecum. Here’s what he wrote back:

“I assume he’s going to keep trying. I assume he will accept the Angels offer to pitch at Triple-A. And he could even be back in September if he shows some improvement. I don’t expect him to just retire. He could also try to come back as a reliever next year.

“He was actually really upbeat the whole time. After games, he would be disappointed and frustrated, but he always insisted that he knew it was still in there, he just had to find it.

“He is going to have to accept a minor-league deal next year. He probably could have been signed a lot earlier this year if he had done that, but he wanted a major-league deal and he wanted to start. He isn’t likely to get either of those next year if he tries again.”

Well, honestly, that news from Jeff Fletcher isn’t that bad - if you’re pulling for Lincecum. If you’re Lincecum. Angels manager Mike Scioscia said Lincecum has trouble finding his release point. May find it in the minors. Lincecum’s fastball consistently falls short of 90 mph. Maybe he can regain speed in Triple-A. Maybe not.

One line from Jeff Fletcher’s email sticks with me. Lincecum “knew it was still in there, he just had to find it.”

“It” being Lincecum’s ability, his demon, his Freakness. “It” being his identity as a starter and nothing else. In his comeback he was clear about that. He is a starter. Would accept nothing less.

There are two Timmys - forgive me for being personal here. One is getting his brains beat out in the American League. That’s the one we see. The other still is a great pitcher. He’s the one we don’t see. He is in hiding, waiting to come out. But he’s there.

Lincecum may be right about the great pitcher being in there. But he may be wrong. In pitching - in life - actions define us. They really do. What we think about ourselves in the privacy of our aspirations is insubstantial, almost unreal. Lincecum’s grotesque ERA defines him more accurately than whom he thinks he is, or wishes he is, or hopes he is. The proof that his “It” is still in there is Lincecum putting “It” out there. On the mound. On the field.

But all this is off the point. A pitcher flopping in Anaheim, embarrassing himself, is back-page news. Careers come and careers go. Who cares?

Not with Lincecum. Not around here, where people do care. His career is a tragic cycle - spectacular rise, spectacular fall. Not that sports is tragic, especially for a multimillionaire set for life. But it must feel tragic to him. Losing his identity. Unable to do the thing he loves. Getting remaindered.

And it feels tragic to us - OK, maybe just sad - because we like him, He appealed to us in a special way. Was so good, so unique. And it never went to his head.

And when the Angels release him - when baseball discards him - we want to defend him from the rude reality of speed guns and from earned run averages and won-loss records and from life. Defend his honor and his pitching pedigree. And his virtue and his good nature and his smile and his self-effacing nature. We want to vouch for him.

Why?

I don’t know for sure. I felt no urge to vouch for Barry Zito, will feel no urge to vouch for Matt Cain when the time comes. They are nice guys. Nothing against them. But the Angels pulling the plug on Lincecum feels like someone pulling the plug on all our dreams.

Silly to feel that way. But I do. I bet you do, too.

For more on the world of sports in general and the Bay Area in particular, go to the Cohn Zohn at cohn.blogs.pressdemocrat.com. You can reach Staff Columnist Lowell Cohn at lowell.cohn@pressdemocrat.com.