Tim Lincecum

The news wasn't unexpected, but it's hard to absorb. After struggling to find his pitch for the past couple of seasons and being on the disabled list since June, Tim Lincecum had hip surgery today. He won't pitch again this season, and the likelihood of him appearing again in a San Francisco Giants uniform is dim. He's been a focal point for me since he came up back in 2007, and the thought of not seeing him on the mound or in the dugout leads to a feeling close to grief.

So, what's next for Tim Lincecum? Will he pitch again? For whom? And in what capacity? And if he can't pitch again, or if no team is willing to give him that opportunity, what will he do? Most any other player I can envision in a post-retirement role—a coach, say, or as a front-office guy, maybe a so-called "community ambassador" for the Giants. But I can't slot Timmy into any of those spots. He's a pitcher, a little, lithe, balletic athlete, seemingly a bit shy and self-effacing. Except when he was on the mound, where he dominated.

Maybe all this is premature, and Tim Lincecum will heal quickly and well, and he'll be pitching again next season. Maybe not with the same stuff he once had, but he'll be back, whether for the Giants or another team.  I'd hoped to celebrate the day he retired. Today, I don't feel like celebrating.