Give Giants' Lincecum's Dad credit for evolution of a phenom
Chris Lincecum provided design and instruction for his son Tim's career
By Andrew Baggarly
San Jose Mercury News
Article Launched:05/25/2007 01:39:14 AM PDT
Chris Lincecum sat in the middle of the largest building in the world, a place devoted to the grandest designs on propulsion.
It was there in Everett, Wash., among the Boeing 747 aircraft being assembled around him, that he logged data into a computer, inventoried thousands of parts and dreamed of building a better machine.
One that throws a baseball. One that happens to be his son.
After a lifetime of prodding, practicing, filming and watching videotapes that fill an entire room in his house, Chris Lincecum's master design rolled into the major leagues. His son, Tim, is dominating the best hitters on earth.
And dad is justifiably proud.
"Did you see where Craig Biggio, the future Hall of Famer, had Lincecum-itis the other day?" he said over the phone, laughing. "`Nah, Skip, I don't feel like playing today.' I love it."
Tim Lincecum struck out Biggio three times last week in Houston. Five days later, Biggio wasn't in the lineup when the 22-year-old rookie right-hander faced the Astros again.
"Hey, you can't blame 'em," Chris Lincecum said. "His stuff's just nasty, isn't it?"
The Giants would agree. They promoted Lincecum from Triple-A on May 6 after he torched the Pacific Coast League. He has pitched better each time since his debut, mixing a 97 mph fastball with a snapdragon curve and an emerging change-up that he mostly uses to fool left-handed hitters.
By now, you probably know that Lincecum stands 5-foot-11 in his cleats, weighs less than the average member of the high school comic book club - he's listed at 174 pounds - and could probably squeeze three months out of a travel-size can of shaving cream.
Dad takes credit
You've also probably heard that he generates incredible power from his slight frame through a handcrafted pitching motion that leverages every ounce of his body.
And you might have read something about that delivery being his father's invention, inspired by watching old footage of Sandy Koufax and Bob Feller.
"That's all baloney," Chris Lincecum insisted. "I didn't look at anybody. I developed that form all on my own."
Chris Lincecum, 59, speaks in a gravelly voice and a feisty, rapid-fire stream of consciousness. He'll change subjects in mid-sentence, meander back to his main point, then apologize for rambling on.
He was 6 when his uncle taught him how to grip a curveball, and a lifelong fascination began. His own pitching aspirations ended as a 21-year-old when he broke his back in a fall, but he never stopped thinking about things like transference, tilt, balance, load and leverage.
"I developed a set of mechanics that work from foot to fingertips using all hinges in sequence," he said. "Then I had kids."
All at once, Chris Lincecum tells a dozen stories about his two sons (Sean is the eldest by four years). There was the time Tim made his high school varsity golf team even though he had played just 27 holes in his life. And the fact Tim can play golf with right-handed clubs even though he's a left-handed batter, and that he's a natural switch hitter, and that if he's anything like his old man, he'll be able to throw 88 mph into his mid-50s.
"I get so sick and tired about them talking about how he's going to break down," Chris Lincecum said. "I've heard that for years, and he's not. All he needs to do is keep his core muscles in shape and all his hinges loose, and he'll be good for a long, long time."
Tim has thrown a ball for as long as he can remember. On some of those old tapes, when his mother is holding the camera and his brother is working on a pitching lesson with his dad, 3-year-old Timmy is bobbing about in the background.
"There I go, running around," he said. "You can see me trying to throw like my brother."
Sean broke his arm playing football, but Tim had the lithe build and the natural flexibility to repeat what his father showed him.
"A load like Warren Spahn or Bob Feller, a dangle and the looseness of Satchel Paige and the finish and follow through of Bob Gibson," Chris Lincecum said. "It's pieces of them and it's good for anybody because it's very efficient. It's perfect."
Giants pitching coach Dave Righetti agrees.
"Everybody's talking like this is some strange delivery," Righetti said. "He's just a wiry kid out there using his body to throw the baseball, which is easier on the arm. To me, that's the way you're supposed to throw."
