Dusty Baker remembered the games. Not the ones that Fernando Valenzuela would bend to his will like his signature screwball, but the moments in between. The precocious left-hander’s skills went beyond the iconic windup he taught himself on mounds in a small Mexican town named Etchohuaquila. Valenzuela could hit so well that he remained parked on the bench at Dodger Stadium even on nights when he didn’t pitch. He could field his position so well that he’d win a Gold Glove.
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But Baker marveled at another athletic feat: Valenzuela knocking a hacky sack into the air, his eyes floating to the sky just as they would when he delivered a
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