Reporter finds no luck in searching for former Giant Tim Lincecum

Over the course of nine Giants seasons and three World Series victories, "The Freak" entranced, enthralled, delighted and sometimes maddened. Where is he now?|

SEATTLE - Tim Lincecum's last known address is tucked behind a partial fence, just off a sloped dead-end street near the shores of Lake Washington.

Getting to the front door of the barn-red building requires crossing a short bridge. It feels like walking the plank.

This is where I rang the doorbell over the course of a few days last week. It's been said that nearly a third of Bigfoot sightings come from the Pacific Northwest, so this was my best bet at finding the elusive, mythical, shaggy creature known as The Freak.

No such luck. Lincecum, the Giants' two-time Cy Young Award winner, never answered the door, and neither did anyone else. Whenever I pressed the doorbell, the lone stirring came from annoyed dogs.

My editor dispatched me to Seattle because people miss the living daylights out of Timothy LeRoy Lincecum. This has been the first Major League season without him since 2007, when the tiny kid with the big fastball first set AT&T Park ablaze.

“It was a little guy taking on the world,” recalled broadcaster Duane Kuiper. “Everybody likes that.”

Over the course of nine Giants seasons and three World Series victories, The Freak entranced, enthralled, delighted and sometimes maddened.

His absence feels particularly acute this season, with a team devoid of both wins and personality.

Where have you gone, Tim Lincecum? The Giants turn their last-place eyes to you.

“The vibe around the Giants was different because of Timmy,” pitching coach Dave Righetti told me shortly before my trip. “You're talking about every walk of life - kids, women, little girls, little boys, grown men. They just wanted to watch this guy.”

Lincecum's starts were holidays. He could turn a Tuesday night in August into a happening. People wished each other a happy Timmy Day.

“It was a happy fit because he was San Francisco. He is San Francisco. Quirky. Eccentric. Marches to his own beat,” Giants CEO Larry Baer said. “When it was Timmy Day, it wasn't just that he was good. It was like a lot of the fans felt their son was pitching. … You really felt invested, emotionally, in his performance.”

Now, the pitcher you couldn't take your eyes off is nowhere to be seen. Lincecum last appeared in a game on Aug 5, 2016, for the Los Angeles Angels. Pitching in his hometown of Seattle that day, Lincecum's fading fastball got knocked around for six runs in 3.1 innings, sending his final ERA to 9.16.

He hasn't retired yet, but when he does Baer is poised to bring him to San Francisco in some kind of official capacity.

“There's definitely a place in the Giants world for Linecum,” he said. “I mean, that goes without saying.”

Until then? Lincecum is believed to be back here inhabiting the shores of Lake Washington, although no one with the Giants could say for sure.

Wherever he is now, he's keeping a low profile. The Freak is now The Ghost.

Lincecum's agent, Rick Thurman, told the Bay Area News Group in August that Lincecum is keeping in shape and hopes to pitch again.

But Thurman did not respond to voicemails, texts or e-mails in search of additional details for this story.

Lincecum's father, Chris, who was once a frequent and chatty radio guest, did not respond to texts.

A handful of Giants employees who specialize in media relations or alumni events say Lincecum is the rare ex-player they can't keep tabs on. A current Giants player said he sent The Freak a text on his 33rd birthday on June 15. Weeks later, he still hadn't heard back.

That Lincecum has gone Greta Garbo (or is it Bernie Carbo?) offends nobody who knows him well. Several Giants players were unfazed about the long lapses in communication. No one interprets it as a snub. Even at his peak, Lincecum preferred to lay low.

At the University of Washington, where Lincecum was a two-time Pac-10 pitcher of the year, there are posters and banners commemorating the fire-balling star who struck out more batters than anyone in conference history - more than Tom Seaver, more than Randy Johnson.

But the real Lincecum stays away.

“He doesn't really have much of a relationship at all with the Husky baseball program,” Steve Sandmeyer, the Huskies play-by-play broadcaster, said in a phone interview.

“He's a big believer in moving on. I think he moved on very quickly from Washington. … he really didn't want to live in the past.

At Liberty High School in Renton, Washington, they haven't heard from Lincecum since the day he graduated in 2003 - “not a peep” - despite multiple overtures. At Liberty, as with UW, there is no indication of acrimony.

Lincecum created a sti from the day he arrived at AT&T Park. Baer remembers going down to the clubhouse in 2007 to introduce himself to the Giants' hot shot rookie.

“I walked right by him. I thought he was one of the bat boys,” Baer said with a laugh. “Where's Lincecum? Oh, that's him? It wasn't just the size. It was the whole look: I think that was part of his endearing quality. He was just so kid-like.”

The 10th overall pick in the 2006 draft appeared just 13 times in the minors before the Giants called him up to face the Philadelphia Phillies on May 7, 2007.

Righetti took Lincecum out to the bullpen to warm up, but it was barely worth the trouble. Most starting pitchers throw between 40 and 60 pitches to get loose. “Timmy got to 13, flipped me the ball and was gone,” Righetti said. “He was ready to go.”

Former Giants catcher Bengie Molina, who would later work behind the plate for some of Lincecum's best games, barely knew a thing about him before catching him the first time.

“I loved catching Timmy. He could just cruise through a lineup,” Molina said. “There's a reason they called him The Freak. His windup was tricky, the way he hid the ball.

“His ball moved everywhere. That's what people didn't understand. He threw a natural cutter. Can you imagine having a good changeup to go with 99 mph?”

Over the course of the next five seasons, Lincecum delivered the most dominant pitching stretch in these parts since Juan Marichal was kicking the clouds in the 1960s.

Lincecum became the first player in major league history to win Cy Young Awards in each of his first two full seasons.

He set a San Francisco record with 265 strikeouts in 2008, then nearly matched it with 261 more in 2009.

Of all things, the hippest player in sports may have been undone by a bad hip.

There are many theories about the cause of death with Tim Lincecum's fastball, but hip problems remain the leading suspect. He sustained a labral tear (in this case, the connective tissue between the upper leg and the hip socket). The injury was announced in June of 2015, but there were signs of wear and tear before then.

Dave Groeschner, the Giants trainer, acknowledged Lincecum's hip injury ultimately affected the pitcher's drive off the mound because “you have to use your lower half to generate power and throw. When you have an injury like that, it's hard to do.”

Lincecum's vanishing act, whether willful or accidental, represents the symbolic end of a golden era. For San Francisco, he was the electricity behind three World Series parades, the long-haired poster boy for the band of misfits.

The Giants are ready to welcome back Timmy when the time is right. They just need to find him first.

Lincecum has left and gone away.

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