I saw him pitch against the Mets twice, almost bookends to his career: at the height of Fernandomania in May of 1981 and as he hung in there as a Padre in May of 1996. To mark it further in time, the starters he opposed were, respectively, Mike Scott and Jason Isringhausen. The '81 start was a happening, drawing almost 40,000 to Shea when 5,000 was the rule. The “magic” moment giveaway, in which some lucky section received 50 bags of peanuts, subbed in tortilla chips. That game, won by L.A. 1-0, was the night Valenzuela's eye roll to the heavens was picked up on by Bill Webb, becoming a trademark of how Fernando would be covered by the cameras. During that stint in '86 when Gary Carter was confined to the DL and therefore driving everybody crazy in the Met dugout, Channel 9 invited Kid into the booth for a few innings in L.A. to comment on another Valenzuela start, one the Mets won. Gary called Fernando “Freddie,” which took Tim and Steve by surprise. Yeah, Gary said, that's what the players call him. Along with the brilliant rookie campaign and the gutty World Series outing and the no-hitter on the same night as Dave Stewart and the marquee matchups with Doc and the stealth longevity, I always think of that when I think of Valenzuela.