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Sidd Finch
Sidd Finch
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Sidd Finch
Created byGeorge Plimpton
In-universe information
Full nameHayden Siddhartha Finch
PositionPitcher
OriginEngland

Sidd Finch is a fictional baseball player, the subject of the notorious April Fools' Day hoax article "The Curious Case of Sidd Finch" written by George Plimpton and first published in the April 1, 1985, issue of Sports Illustrated. According to Plimpton, Finch was raised in an English orphanage, learned yoga in Tibet, and could throw a fastball as fast as 168 miles per hour (270 km/h).[1]

Key Information

Hoax

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In early 1985, Mark Mulvoy, the managing editor of Sports Illustrated, noticed that a cover date that year would fall on April 1. He asked George Plimpton to commemorate this with an article on April Fools' Day jokes in sports. When Plimpton found himself unable to find enough examples to craft an article, Mulvoy gave Plimpton permission to create his own hoax.[2][3]

Plimpton reported that Hayden Siddhartha[4] "Sidd" Finch was a rookie baseball pitcher in training with the New York Mets after being discovered in Old Orchard Beach, Maine.[5] He also wore only one shoe—a heavy hiker's boot—when pitching. Finch, who had never played baseball before, was attempting to decide between a sports career and one playing the French horn. What was astonishing about Finch was that he could pitch a fastball at an amazing 168 miles per hour (270 km/h), far above the record of a "mere" 104 miles per hour (167 km/h), with pinpoint accuracy, and without needing to warm up.[4] The Mets' scouting report gave Finch a "9" on fastball velocity and control—"8" is the highest score on the scale.[3]

According to Plimpton, Finch grew up in an English orphanage and was adopted by an archaeologist who later died in a plane crash in Nepal. After briefly attending Harvard University,[4] he went to Tibet to learn "yogic mastery of mind-body" under "the great poet-saint Lama Milaraspa", which was the source of his pitching prowess.[6][7] Finch decided not to pursue a baseball career, instead choosing to "play the French horn or golf or something."[8]

The story was accompanied by photographs of Finch, including one featuring a young Lenny Dykstra and another of Finch talking with the Mets' actual pitching coach, Mel Stottlemyre. The Mets played along with the hoax, even providing a uniform and number (21) for Finch.

Sports Illustrated photographer Lane Stewart recruited his friend, Joe Berton, who was a junior high art teacher from Oak Park, Illinois, to portray Finch.[2][3] Berton posed as Finch for the photographs (usually with his face averted from the lens).[9] Berton stands at 6 feet 4 inches (1.93 m) and wears a size 14 shoe.[10]

Novelist Jonathan Dee, who was working as Plimpton's assistant at the time, described Plimpton at the time of the writing of the article as "a wreck". Dee wrote years later, "Nothing, he knew, falls quite so flat as a bad joke. Such was his anxiety that, for the one and only time in my five years in his employ, he asked me to come in to work on a Saturday. I still remember my naïve astonishment at the sight of a world-famous, successful writer actually agonizing over whether something he’d written was good enough, funny enough, believable enough, or whether the whole thing would wind up making him seem like a national jackass."[11] Dee also talked about his role in the Finch hoax in an outtake from the 2012 documentary film Plimpton! Starring George Plimpton as Himself.[12]

Response

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The story was released in late March 1985.[3] The subhead of the article read: "He's a pitcher, part yogi and part recluse. Impressively liberated from our opulent life-style, Sidd's deciding about yoga—and his future in baseball." The first letters of these words spell out "Happy April Fools' Day—a(h) fib";[3] Despite this clue and the obvious absurdity of the article, many people believed Finch actually existed. Mets fans were overjoyed at their luck in finding such a player, and flooded Sports Illustrated with requests for more information.[6] A New York sports page editor complained to the Mets' public relations director for allowing Sports Illustrated to break the news. Two general managers called Commissioner of Baseball Peter Ueberroth asking about Finch. The St. Petersburg Times sent a reporter to find Finch, and a radio talk show host claimed he saw Finch pitch.[2]

The Mets gave Finch a locker between George Foster and Darryl Strawberry.[9] The three major networks, CBS, NBC, and ABC, and the local St. Petersburg, Florida, newspapers sent reporters to Al Lang Stadium for a press conference about Finch. At the April 2 press conference, Berton announced Finch's retirement.[13]

The magazine printed a much smaller article in the following April 8 issue announcing Finch's retirement. It then announced it was a hoax on April 15.[citation needed]

Aftermath

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Joe Berton autographs a Sidd Finch bobblehead at a Brooklyn Cyclones game, with a special 30th anniversary logo on his jersey sleeve.

Plimpton eventually broadened his article into a novel, The Curious Case of Sidd Finch, first published in 1987.[4] The book discussed Finch's "brief re-commitment to baseball",[8] in which stories of Sadaharu Oh and Steve Dalkowski, as well as Finch's girlfriend, inspire Finch to stick with baseball, and he reaches Major League Baseball with the Mets.[4]

In April 2015, ESPN released a documentary on its 30 for 30 Shorts program[14] about the Sidd Finch phenomenon, as another April Fools' joke for a new generation.

On August 26, 2015, the Brooklyn Cyclones had a Sidd Finch bobblehead give-away for the 30th anniversary of the event. George Plimpton had died, so his son Taylor threw the ceremonial first pitch. Joe Berton attended and signed autographs on the bobbleheads. The bobblehead showed Finch in a Cyclones uniform, with French horn and one bare foot. The Cyclones were not in existence in 1985; a team executive explained in an interview during the game radio broadcast that using the Major League team name and logo would have been much more expensive.[citation needed]

See also

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References

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Revisions and contributorsEdit on WikipediaRead on Wikipedia
from Grokipedia
Sidd Finch is a fictional character invented for an April Fool's Day hoax published in Sports Illustrated on April 1, 1985, depicted as a 28-year-old New York Mets pitching prospect renowned for throwing a fastball at 168 miles per hour. The character, created by writer George Plimpton at the direction of Sports Illustrated managing editor Mark Mulvoy, was portrayed as a mystic and recluse named Siddhartha "Sidd" Finch—born Hayden Finch and adopted by an archaeologist—who had withdrawn from Harvard in 1976 to study in the Himalayas and Tibet, where he developed his extraordinary pitching ability through yoga and unconventional training. Finch was described as living ascetically, playing the French horn with skill, and wearing a single hiking boot on his pitching foot while practicing in secrecy at the Mets' spring training camp; he was scouted in Maine in July 1984 by the team's Triple-A affiliate manager and clocked at his record speed using a JUGS radar gun on March 17, 1985. The article, titled "The Curious Case of Sidd Finch," featured realistic photographs of model Joe Berton (an art teacher and friend of the magazine's photographer Lane Stewart) posing as Finch, which lent credibility and fooled numerous readers, including some personnel who initially believed the story. The was subtly hinted at through an in subheadings spelling "HAPPY – AH, FIB" but was not fully revealed until the magazine's April 15, 1985, issue, prompting an outpouring of reader reactions ranging from amusement to outrage. Widely regarded as one of the most successful pranks in history, the Sidd Finch story has endured in lore, inspiring merchandise, references in , and commemorations such as a 2025 Mets game appearance by Berton, even as it highlighted the blurred lines between fact and fiction in media.

The Hoax Article

Publication and Creation

The Sidd Finch hoax originated in early 1985 when Mark Mulvoy, the managing editor of , noticed that the magazine's cover date would fall on April 1 and proposed creating an feature. Mulvoy commissioned , known for his participatory journalism in works like , to develop the story, initially exploring real oddities in sports before pivoting to a fully fictional about an extraordinary prospect. Planning sessions involving Mulvoy, Plimpton, and articles editor Myra Gelband began shortly thereafter, shaping the concept of a reclusive with unprecedented velocity. Plimpton conducted research into physics and mechanics to lend plausibility to the central claim of a 168 mph fastball, consulting experts to ensure the description aligned with aerodynamic principles while remaining fantastical. He collaborated closely with photographer Lane Stewart, who staged photographs at the ' facility in , using a tall model to depict the fictional in action. These images, including shots of the supposed warming up and pitching, were integral to the article's immersive style, mimicking Plimpton's firsthand reporting approach. The piece, titled "The Curious Case of Sidd Finch," was finalized in March 1985 after iterative revisions to heighten its deceptive realism. The article appeared in the April 1, 1985, issue of as a 14-page feature, strategically timed for but without overt indicators of its fictional nature to maximize the prank's impact. Editors decided to withhold an explicit reveal until the following issue on April 15, embedding subtle clues like an in the subheadings spelling "HAPPY APRIL FOOLS" to reward close readers while allowing the to unfold naturally. This approach drew on Plimpton's experience with elaborate journalistic setups, ensuring the story blended seamlessly into the magazine's typical coverage of emerging talents.

Fictional Character Profile

Sidd Finch, whose full name is given as Hayden "Sidd" Finch (with "Sidd" derived from Siddhartha, referencing ), is portrayed as a 28-year-old enigmatic figure in the 1985 article. Born in an orphanage in , , he spent his early childhood there before being adopted by the archaeologist Francis Whyte-Finch, who raised him until dying in a plane crash while surveying Nepal's mountain region. Following his adoptive father's death, Finch attended in , , and later enrolled at in 1975, from which he withdrew during the spring 1976 midterm without having played . After leaving Harvard, Finch traveled to the , eventually settling in the remote village of Po in during the late , where he immersed himself in Buddhist monastic life and . There, he developed his extraordinary pitching ability not through formal training but by hurling rocks at distant targets as part of meditative exercises, refining a technique that emphasized total mind-body harmony. He also became proficient in and other Eastern languages during this period, and upon returning to the , he adopted a reclusive reminiscent of his Tibetan experiences, living simply with few possessions including a knapsack, a wooden bowl, a yak-fur rug, and a that he played with notable skill. Physically, Finch is described as tall and gawky, with a youthful face featuring motionless facial muscles, piercing blue eyes, and an overall ascetic demeanor. His pitching style is unconventional: he delivers the ball barefoot except for a heavy hiker's boot on his right foot, swaying back in a manner similar to before snapping his stiff right arm forward like a catapult. Discovered in July 1984 by Tidewater Tides manager Bob Schaefer during an exhibition game in —where Finch shattered a soda bottle with a thrown from 60 feet—he was invited to the ' spring training camp in , in February 1985. There, radar guns clocked his at up to 168 miles per hour, positioning him as a potential game-changer for the Mets despite his lack of organized experience. Finch's eccentric habits included sleeping on the floor of his modest accommodations, meditating by the sea at dawn, and shunning team social activities, often wearing his Mets cap backwards while carrying his few belongings in a rucksack.

Narrative Elements

George Plimpton's "The Curious Case of Sidd Finch," published in the April 1, 1985, issue of , utilized a style that positioned the author as an embedded journalist uncovering a remarkable story. This immersive technique blended descriptive scene-setting with fabricated interviews from actual figures, such as manager , who commented on Finch's exceptional control by stating, "If he didn’t have this great control, he’d be like out there," and pitcher , whose reactions underscored the awe surrounding the prospect. By mimicking the rhythm of legitimate sports reporting, Plimpton created a seamless illusion of authenticity, drawing readers into the unfolding events as if they were witnessing a genuine scoop. The article's deceptive realism was amplified through meticulously woven realistic details that grounded the fiction in the familiar world of . Plimpton referenced the Mets' sessions in , where a JUGS Supergun II radar gun allegedly clocked Finch's fastballs at 168 mph—far surpassing Nolan Ryan's recorded 103 mph velocity—while describing the physical toll on catchers, such as Ronn Reynolds, who described the sensation as like being hit by a . These specifics, drawn from verifiable practices and equipment, lent an air of technical precision and immediacy, making the extraordinary claims feel plausible within the sport's context. Suspense was artfully constructed around Finch's uncertain future, with the narrative teasing his potential signing with the Mets while emphasizing his ambivalence through quoted insights from associates. For instance, Dr. Timothy J. Burns, a fictional , noted the tension between baseball's demands and Finch's spiritual inclinations, observing, "There’s a chance… but nirvana means ‘the blowing out’—baseball is opposite." This buildup of anticipation, culminating in the article's deadline on without resolution, mirrored the high-stakes drama of real free-agent negotiations and kept readers engaged in speculation. Complementing the text, staged photographs by Sports Illustrated photographer Lane Stewart provided visual corroboration that heightened the hoax's credibility. Stewart enlisted Joe Berton to pose as Finch in a Mets , capturing images of him pitching on a toward Coke cans as targets and interacting with real teammates like and during St. Petersburg training. These carefully composed shots, avoiding overt exaggeration, depicted Finch's unconventional attire—one shoe on, one off—and instruments like a , integrating seamlessly with the article's descriptions to evoke a sense of documented . Subtle hints of fabrication were embedded without undermining the straight-faced presentation, such as the etymology of Finch's name, which Plimpton explained as "Sidd" deriving from Siddhartha—signifying "aim attained" or enlightenment—and paired with "Finch" to evoke a , symbolizing or . These allusions to and whimsy were delivered matter-of-factly amid the otherwise rigorous reporting, allowing discerning readers a faint clue while the majority remained convinced by the surrounding .

Public Reaction

Initial Belief and Confusion

Upon the release of the Sports Illustrated article in the , 1985, issue (which hit newsstands around March 28), many readers initially accepted the story of Sidd Finch—a reclusive talent capable of hurling a at 168 —as factual, leading to widespread excitement among enthusiasts. The magazine's switchboard was overwhelmed with inquiries, receiving 349 phone calls from fans seeking confirmation of Finch's status and details about his potential debut with the . This immediate response reflected a lack of , bolstered by author George Plimpton's established reputation for immersive, credible . Mets fans, in particular, expressed fervent enthusiasm, flooding the team's office with questions about Finch's arrival and training progress. Specific anecdotes highlighted the intensity of this engagement; for instance, Mets PR director Jay Horwitz fielded numerous calls from excited supporters, underscoring the depth of belief in the narrative. The confusion was further amplified by word-of-mouth dissemination, with one reader reportedly contacting 10 friends who each reached out to 10 more, creating a rapid chain of rumors that treated the story as legitimate news. By the morning of April 1, 1985, the volume of engagement had escalated to an estimated thousands of individuals, jamming phone lines at both and the Mets organization as fans clamored for updates. Over 1,000 letters also poured into the magazine, many echoing sentiments of awe and anticipation, with writers asking practical questions such as where they could watch Finch pitch. This peak of pre-revelation fervor demonstrated the hoax's effectiveness in capturing the imagination of the community before any doubts surfaced.

Media and Fan Responses

Following the release of the Sports Illustrated article in the April 1, 1985, issue (which hit newsstands around March 28), major newspapers quickly picked up the story of Sidd Finch as a legitimate Mets prospect, with reporting on the pitcher's extraordinary and the team's efforts to shield him from scouts using a canvas-covered during . Mets general manager and other officials played along by providing supportive quotes and logistical details that lent credibility to the narrative, including claims of Finch's 168 mph velocity confirmed by radar guns. Local media outlets, including the St. Petersburg Times, dispatched reporters to investigate Finch's whereabouts at the Mets' camp, while radio talk shows amplified the buzz, with at least one host asserting he had personally witnessed Finch pitching. Fans embraced the story with fervor, producing T-shirts emblazoned with slogans like "Sidd Finch Lives!" that appeared almost immediately after the article's release. Enthusiastic supporters also created depicting the reclusive and circulated petitions urging the Mets to add Finch to their roster, reflecting widespread excitement among enthusiasts. Some fans went further, attempting to replicate Finch's unconventional sidearm delivery in backyard practices, inspired by descriptions of his Tibetan-influenced technique. The hoax's fictional elements, including Finch's English heritage and studies at , generated transatlantic curiosity, though specific UK media reports were limited. This intrigue contributed to a brief period of sustained belief, lasting through and into April 2, 1985, as the magazine reached subscribers and newsstands four to five days before the official , allowing the story to spread unchecked before subtle hints of its fictional nature began to surface.

Revelation of the Hoax

Follow-up Coverage

In the April 8, 1985, issue of , a follow-up piece in the "Scorecard" section provided an update on Sidd Finch, reporting that Sidd Finch had decided to quit and return to playing the , as he could not master control of his blazing . This tease extended the narrative's intrigue, suggesting a deeper mystery tied to Finch's reclusive, monk-like existence and his indecision about a . The article incorporated subtle clues to its fictional origins, including allusions to customs and a midway pivot where the author acknowledged the story's inventive elements, echoing George Plimpton's whimsical style from the initial profile without fully dispelling the illusion. These hints encouraged discerning readers to question the tale's veracity while sustaining the buzz for those still captivated. Accompanying the text was an illustration by Sam Q. Weissman.

Confirmation and Denials

In the April 15, 1985, issue of , published a follow-up article titled "The Curious Case of Sidd Finch," in which he explicitly admitted that the entire story was a fabrication designed as an prank. Plimpton explained that the character of Sidd Finch was invented to entertain readers and detailed how the fictional narrative was constructed around an improbable prodigy with a 168 mph fastball. The April 15 issue noted that SI received over 500 letters about Finch, many from fans and personnel who were initially convinced of his existence. The organization quickly distanced itself from the story through director Jay Horwitz, who confirmed to inquiring reporters and fans that Sidd Finch was a complete and no such prospect existed within the team. Horwitz described the collaboration with as lighthearted, stating, "The way I look at it, it didn’t hurt anybody and it was fun," while noting the persistent public desire for the tale to be true even after the reveal. Sports Illustrated managing editor Mark Mulvoy affirmed the hoax's intent in statements shortly after publication, telling reporters that "by now people realize that the article is just an April Fool's joke," emphasizing there was no real Sidd Finch and that the magazine had crafted the piece for amusement. Photographer Stewart, who staged the accompanying images, similarly denied any reality to the character, later recalling in interviews that the photos were fabricated to enhance the prank without intending widespread deception. Although did not issue a formal on April 2, 1985, as initially rumored, the magazine's involved parties began clarifying the fabrication through direct responses to media inquiries starting that day, with full details elaborated in Plimpton's April 15 piece. Confirmation of the spread rapidly through news outlets by April 3, as newspapers across the country reported the story as fictional, effectively ending widespread confusion within days of the original publication.

Aftermath and Legacy

Immediate Consequences

The April 1, 1985, issue of featuring George Plimpton's article on Sidd Finch sold out its initial press run of 6.3 million copies within days, marking a 20% increase in newsstand sales compared to the previous year's April issue, driven by widespread reader intrigue and belief in the story. This surge reflected the hoax's immediate commercial success, with the magazine receiving an influx of phone calls and letters from fans seeking confirmation of Finch's existence. Internally at , the hoax earned praise for Plimpton and the editorial team, particularly from managing editor Mark Mulvoy, who defended it as "harmless fun" and a rare opportunity for levity amid the publication's typical output of over 600 stories annually. However, it drew some criticism for misleading readers, including initial anger from Time Inc. Jason McManus, who was reportedly "pissed" at the stunt. For the , the created a temporary overload on their team, as reporters and fans inundated them with inquiries about Finch, but it ultimately generated positive publicity and excitement around the team. Mets PR director Jay Horwitz described the collaboration with as a career highlight, noting that "it didn't hurt anybody and it was fun," and even joked about Finch's supposed additional talents to prolong the gag. Plimpton personally experienced a mix of fan responses, receiving amused letters and calls from admirers, including four Hollywood movie executives interested in adapting the story, alongside some angry correspondence from those feeling deceived; these interactions later fueled anecdotes in his interviews about the 's cultural ripple effects. No lawsuits arose from the , though it sparked discussions on journalistic in sports media, with critics like New York Yankees owner decrying it as "bad for , bad for the Mets, bad for ," while others viewed it as an acceptable April Fools' prank given Plimpton's reputation for participatory journalism.

Cultural Impact and Anniversaries

The hoax surrounding Sidd Finch has profoundly influenced sports journalism, particularly by establishing a benchmark for elaborate April Fools' pranks that blend factual reporting with fiction to captivate audiences. Often hailed as the greatest such joke in sports history, it inspired subsequent traditions where outlets like Sports Illustrated and other publications craft detailed, seemingly credible stories on April 1 to test readers' skepticism, emphasizing the power of narrative in media. In literary form, the story extended its reach through George Plimpton's 1987 novelization, The Curious Case of Sidd Finch, which expanded the fictional narrative into a full-length exploration of the character's eccentric life as a and prodigious , cementing Finch's place in mythology. Within sports culture, Finch symbolizes the allure of unattainable talent and the whimsical side of the game; the embraced this by assigning him uniform number 21 during the and later producing commemorative items like bobbleheads to honor the legend in jest. The tale's broader cultural footprint includes its documentation in hoax histories, such as the Museum of Hoaxes archive, where it ranks among iconic deceptions for demonstrating how immersive can deceive even savvy audiences. While direct parodies in major TV shows and films are less documented, the archetype of the superhuman athlete hoax recurs in popular media, reflecting Finch's enduring role in satirizing sports hype. Anniversaries have sustained the story's relevance, with marking the 35th in 2020 through a detailed on the prank's creation and impact. The 40th anniversary in 2025 featured a blog post by longtime Mets PR director Jay Horwitz recounting his role in perpetuating the myth, alongside a documentary interviewing key figures like the hoax's "model" Joe Berton. Additionally, Joe Berton made his first appearance at a Mets home game on , 2025. These commemorations, including SI's ongoing archival reflections, underscore Finch's status as a touchstone for media pranks. As of 2025, Sidd Finch continues to inform discussions on and viral sports narratives, serving as a cautionary example of how believable spreads rapidly in an era of amplification, with commentators drawing parallels to contemporary hoaxes that blur fact and fiction.

References

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