The former defensive standout and batting champion has fond memories of his 16 years in the Major Leagues
The following is an interview I did with Fred Lynn in 2002. It originally ran in Baseball Digest.
In November 2001, following a phenomenal debut season, Seattle Mariners’ right fielder Ichiro Suzuki was named both Rookie of the Year and Most Valuable Player in the American League. The 28-year-old led the majors with a .350 batting average and 56 stolen bases, becoming the first player since Jackie Robinson in 1949 to accomplish this feat.
Winning both the MVP and ROY in the same year wasn’t without precedent, however.
In 1975, a young, left-handed slugger burst onto the national scene and into the big leagues in rather dramatic fashion. Fred Lynn, a 23-year-old center fielder for the Boston Red Sox, had a remarkable rookie year by leading the American League with 103 runs, 47 doubles, a .566 slugging percentage and a .967 OPS. He finished second in batting, with a .331 average, swatted 21 home runs, and collected 105 RBI and 175 hits.
His efforts were rewarded with Rookie of the Year honors, over teammate Jim Rice, and the AL MVP Award, ahead of Rice, John Mayberry, Rollie Fingers and Reggie Jackson.
Not only was Lynn productive at the plate, he was also a graceful — if not reckless — centerfielder, who became just the third rookie in major league history to win a Gold Glove Award. In fact, he is more proud of the big defensive plays than anything he ever did offensively.
Aside from two standout rookies in Lynn and Rice, the Red Sox had a solid club in 1975 that included Carl Yastrzemski, Carlton Fisk, Dwight Evans, Rico Petrocelli, Rick Burleson, and pitchers Luis Tiant, Bill Lee and Rick Wise. The club won the AL East title and then swept the three-time defending World Series champions, the Oakland A’s, in three straight games in the League Championship Series.
In the World Series against the Reds, Lynn hit .280 and slammed a
crucial three-run homer in the first inning of Game 6 — the memorable contest that featured Fisk’s dramatic game-winning blast off the left-field foul pole in the bottom of the 12th inning.
Recalling the legacy of that epic Series, and Game 6 in particular, Lynn said he is quite aware and proud of its historical impact.
“That put baseball back on the map,” he remarked. “Baseball was kind of waning, popularity-wise, at that point. For the time that it took place and the significance it had on the sport, it was pretty important.”
Lynn’s arrival brought hope to the Red Sox, who had three third-place and two second-place finishes since their last pennant in 1967. However, that seven-year pennant drought didn’t deter Lynn in the least.
“I had a lot of wins under my belt coming into the big leagues,” he said. “I don't know if I expected the Red Sox to get to the World Series in my first year, but it didn't surprise me because that’s what I’ve done. At every level that I’ve ever played, I’ve been on winning teams and it was the exception, rather than the rule, if I wasn’t. Everybody else was surprised, but I really wasn’t.”
It was this firm confidence that led to his tremendous success and immediate impact with the club. Lynn has great expectations of himself, as well as the team, but he didn’t anticipate the awards he would later receive that year.
“I never played or looked toward earning individual achievements, so these things never entered my mind,” Lynn said. “I expected to do well, yes. I had kind of a precursor because when I came up in September of ’74, I hit over .400 for the two weeks that I played. The conditions were so much better than in the minor leagues. I saw the ball better. The guys threw more strikes and it seemed that it was easier to hit up there than in the minors.”
Being a 23-year-old rookie, Lynn said he was perhaps too young to appreciate the events that unfolded during the 1975 season and that he didn't really get perspective on them until much later.
“Everything happened so quickly and during the baseball season you don’t really have time to enjoy things very much because you play the next day,” he said. “Even when I had that big night against Detroit in June, when I
drove in 10 runs, we were off to Baltimore the next day and there was no time to enjoy it. It was a good night. You just keep going — the season is relentless. As a new guy going to all these cities for the first time, and so much information happening every day, it just kind of overwhelms you.”
Despite his success during his first full season in the majors, Lynn felt great disappointment losing the seven-game World Series to the Reds. However, his fire still burned and he felt that he and the Red Sox still had some unfinished business.
“I told the press at the time that this was this was a pretty high benchmark and you can’t expect these kinds of numbers every year because, obviously, no one does that. I expected to do well and I did expect to get back to the World Series with that group of guys we had — there’s no question about that. Success did come very fast for me and very early, but I had experienced that before, so there was no great surprise.
"The surprise was not getting back to the World Series with Boston, because we always had a good nucleus of position players. The pitching was always suspect. We were always one guy away. If we’d been able to keep Rollie Fingers after the trade (nixed by commissioner Bowie Kuhn), that would have been a big turn-around for my career, I’m sure. But it seemed that we were just a little bit short all the time, because all the best teams were in our division. I can’t tell you the number of games that we lost in the later innings at Fenway because we didn't have that big arm."
Lynn’s biggest competition for Rookie of the Year came from his own teammate, Jim Rice. They had similar offensive numbers, but Lynn was a defensive specialist and Gold Glove winner.
Rice’s broken wrist, which occurred right as the Sox were entering the hunt for that ever-elusive World Series title, had a devastating impact on the club, according to Lynn.
“That’s a point that people forget about. We lost Jimmy late in September and never had him in the playoffs or the World Series. We still went through Oakland pretty easily, but if we’d had him against the Reds, that would have been a big difference — a huge difference. That was a big blow for us, but nobody ever talks about that.”
After his stellar rookie season, Lynn’s numbers and production fell off in ’76, leaving some to wonder if he was just a flash in the pan. However, through it all, Lynn never lost his confidence or his edge.
“Nineteen-seventy-six was a very difficult season because Carlton Fisk, Rick Burleson and I were all represented by the same agent, and we all went into that season unsigned. The free agency case was going to the courts and we were banking that free agency was going to happen. So, we didn't want to get locked into a one-year deal when it looked like we could get a multi-year deal. So, that created a lot of turmoil in Beantown, especially with me, and it looked like I was turning on the organization, which really wasn’t the case.
“We were just trying to do the best we could do for ourselves and our families. That’s when (Red Sox owner) Tom Yawkey died, in July, and so it was very traumatic. I went from the “fair-haired boy” to the “greedy West Coast kid.” It was very difficult to play. I still hit .314 under the worst conditions, because I felt terrible at home. Getting booed at home is tough.”
Lynn didn't have another season that matched his ’75 debut until 1979, when all of his numbers were actually better, yet he didn't win the MVP. The award that year went to Angels’ outfielder Don Baylor. This was despite the fact that Lynn won the batting title and finished ahead of Baylor in homers, doubles, walks, total bases, OBP and slugging.
The Red Sox, however, didn't win their division and the Angels won the West. Lynn finished a distant fourth in the balloting.
“His team won and mine didn’t,” said Lynn. “That’s not to say that I didn’t have a better year, but that’s all subjective. In 1989, they gave the MVP to Robin Yount and his team finished fourth. I played the game for a number of reasons, but none of them were for awards. When they came my way, it was great. But if they didn’t, I had a pretty thick skin. I learned early on that those kinds of things are not under my control.”
Lynn felt that the 1979 campaign was one of redemption — finally, he’d proven that 1975 wasn’t a fluke.
“It was nice because a lot of people in Boston were wondering f I could duplicate that again. That was the first offseason that I tinkered with weights; I gained about 15 pounds of muscle. So, instead of being a line-drive hitter, I became a power hitter."
However, Lynn didn’t sacrifice his batting average with the advent of his power surge. He hit a career-high 39 homers, while also winning a batting title with a .333 average.
“It goes hand-in-hand with me. When I’m hitting well, I hit the ball out of the park. If my home runs are up, that means I’m hitting.”
In 1980, after three more Gold Glove Awards, Lynn was surprised to find out that the Red Sox wanted to trade him. He was quite disappointed because he had hoped to play his entire career in Boston, just as his teammate, Yaz, had done. Lynn said that the ugly contract negotiations of 1976 were a wound that never fully healed.
In his final season, as a member of the Padres, Lynn said he spoke to writer Peter Gammons and finally got the inside story on why he was traded.
“He told me that Mrs. Yawkey wanted to get rid of us (Lynn, Fisk and Burleson), because she blamed us for he husband’s death in 1976, when we were all unsigned and he died.
As incredible as the story is, it makes sense to Lynn.
“I mean, there’s no other reason that you can get rid of your shortstop, your catcher and your center fielder, who are all Gold Glovers and who can hit .300,” he said.
Lynn believes that he would have benefitted greatly had he stayed in Boston; he knew how to use the wall at Fenway and it made for a great home-field advantage.
“I hit over .350 there, lifetime. You could just add 20 or 30 points to my batting average because I could handle left field there.”
Following the 1980 season, Lynn was traded to the Angels and said that returning to Fenway as a member of the visiting team proved to be a bitter-sweet experience.
“It was difficult because, obviously, they’re not going to like you because you’re in another uniform. You hear the cat calls because the fans are right on top of you in center field at Fenway. I heard it pretty good from them. I always had mixed emotions, because I always thought I’d be playing there for them and not against them. It was difficult to come into Boston and play for the opposing team. It wasn’t much fun, actually.”
Lynn said that there is something about his trade to the Angels that most Red Sox fans don’t know about, which says a lot about him. After going through the arbitration process, catcher Carlton Fisk was declared a free agent and signed with the White Sox. Yet, at around midnight, the night before his arbitration hearing, Lynn agreed to be traded to the Angels.
“I would have been a free agent too, but I just eliminated that whole process and agreed to the trade. They got a few bodies. Otherwise, they would have got nothing — like they got for Pudge (Fisk).
Those bodies turned out to be Frank Tanana, Joe Rudi and Jim Dorsey.
Injuries are the greatest liability to a player’s success, if not career, and his team’s success as well. Unfortunately for Lynn, and the teams he played for, he averaged just 122 games per year in a sport that has a 162-game season. Lynn’s sense that any ball hit near him was catchable cost him dearly.
“That was my attitude. It limited the amount of games I ended up playing. The walls won a lot of the time,” he said, laughing. “I played football at Southern Cal and I was a wide receiver. You're gonna get hit by somebody, so you might as well catch the ball. And that was my attitude when I played baseball. I know where that wall is and if I’m going to take a shot to that wall, I’m gonna catch the ball. I want my pitching staff to know that I’m going to give all of my effort on every play and believe me, pitchers appreciate that.”
Perhaps Lynn’s most famous and spectacular crash came in one of his biggest games, with a huge audience watching. During the 1975 World Series, he was chasing a fly ball hit by Ken Griffey and
ran, full speed, into the wall at Fenway.
“That got padding put on the wall," said Lynn.
It was a moment when time seemed to stand still for all who were watching A collective gasp went up in the crowd. Everyone knew that something was very wrong and that Lynn was hurt badly.
“When I hit the wall, I lost all feeling from my waist down. I thought I’d broken my back, I was fully conscious, but I didn’t move because I couldn’t feel anything. So, that was pretty scary.”
The crash didn't turn out to be as devastating as it appeared and, fortunately, Lynn soon recovered. It was the pileup of constant injuries, however, that kept a player who showed Hall of Fame ability from ever realizing his full potential. Lynn suffered broken ribs in yet another crash into an outfield wall, a broken big toe, torn ligaments in his ankle and lower back problems late in his career, which still plague him to this day.
“When I was healthy, you couldn’t stop me from producing. But when you play as many games as we do, and when you play with a style that I played, things happen.”
Had he remained healthy, things might have been very different in his career.
“If you put health alongside those games, then I’ll hit .300 — that’s just the way it is. If I’m running on all cylinders, then you can just ‘book it, Danno’, as they say," a reference to a place in Cooperstown.
Lynn is not an especially humble man, but like all great athletes, it's that supreme confidence and ego — an underlying belief in himself — that separated him from average peers and mediocrity. Premier players often have a knack for playing their best when it counts — in the postseason. Lynn was one of the best clutch players of his time, but unfortunately for him, his teams only made two postseason appearances.
A career .283 hitter, he hit an impressive .407 in the postseason, including a stunning .611 in the 1982 American League Championship Series with the Angels. In fact, Lynn won the ALCS MVP award, despite the fact that the Angels lost the series to the Brewers. He was the quintessential money player.
“I always played better in front of big crowds,” Lynn said. “I played better in the big games because you had my full attention. When you play 162 games, sometimes the mental part of the game is where you miss out. That was the hardest part for me — being in it mentally all the time. But as far as the big games were concerned, and the big crowds, I fed off that kind of stuff. I loved it when there were 60,000 people. I loved it when everybody was there — that’s when I played my best.”
The playoffs weren’t the only games reserved for Lynn’s uncanny ability to step into the spotlight and shine. As a member of nine consecutive American League All Star teams, he was on the losing squad in the first eight. Then came the night in July, 1983, that provided Lynn with what he has called his greatest moment as a pro. Playing in Chicago’s old Comiskey Park, Lynn
smashed a grand slam that led his team to a lopsided 13-3 victory, earning him the game’s MVP Award. With that swing, he became the first and only player in the history of the All Star game to hit a bases-loaded home run.
However, it wasn’t the personal accomplishment that was so special to him. Lynn was a team player and winning was his motivation. For him, it was always priority one, ahead of individual awards and achievements.
“It’s not because no one had done it before, because I didn’t know that. It was my hometown, Chicago. It’s where I was born and we crushed them, 13-3. That’s why it was significant. And ever since that time, the American League has pretty much dominated. The National League won a lot of close games and we just got tired of hearing about how they were better. So, that’s why it was big.”
Playing for five teams in 16 seasons, Lynn was graced with the honor of playing with such Hall of Famers as Carl Yastrzemski, Carlton Fisk, Eddie Murray, Cal Ripken Jr. and Tony Gwynn. This made the sort of fantasy lineup that most players can only dream about. When asked who was the best he ever played with, Lynn had nothing but great things to say about all of them.
However, given his history of injuries and his familiarity with the grind of a 162-game season, Lynn is especially impressed with the toughness and durability of Ripken.
“He was just a consistent player — he was a grinder. He just went out every day and did his job. He’s probably the most consistent guy, because that’s what he was — Mr. Consistency. He was in there every day and he just grinded it out. So, he’s way up there because of that.”
He also believes that Jim Rice deserves entrance into the Hall of Fame.
“Jimmy was one of the most feared hitters of his time, there’s no question. And the fact that he got 200 hits three years in a row -- he was an excellent hitter. When Jimmy and I played together in the minor leagues, he couldn’t catch a cold. But he made himself a good outfielder. He played Fenway as well as anybody. So, yes, I think that he should be in.”
Lynn is quite proud of his association with Rice, as well as with Dwight Evans, the sum of whom he believes made up one of baseball’s greatest outfields.
“As good as you can write up. I defy you to pick three better guys. When you put the three of us together, collectively, I’d put us against anybody that’s ever played.”
While acknowledging Ichiro’s historic year in 2001, Lynn sees his age that year (28) and nine professional seasons in Japan, prior to his first season in the majors, as the biggest difference between their achievements.
“He had all that experience. I was just 23 and hardly had any professional experience. Yeah, I had a lot of amateur experience, but that’s not the same thing.”
After 12 years of retirement, Lynn still has a fondness for Boston.
“It really does my heart good when I go back, because I hear about my defensive abilities. That’s what people remember and that’s the way I want to be remembered. I don’t want to be remembered for my bat. I want to be remembered for my glove, and that’s how they think of me back there.”
Today, Lynn resides in Southern California with his wife, Natalie, and is the spokesman for Trinity Products, which makes a brand of major league baseball clothing for women.
He turned 50 years old last February, which was as hard for him to believe as it might be for his fans.
“It goes by fairly quickly and you wish you could slow it down a little bit. When you’re playing ball, there’s nothing else besides what you’re doing. The world doesn’t really exist, other than your teammates and baseball. That’s the way I looked at it. That was my world. Everything else was kind of out there — you saw it, but it really didn't affect you. Obviously, now it’s different. Now I’m in the real world."
