Titans Teetering on Wall

OMAHA —  The catcher from Georgia Southern puts some aluminum siding to the baseball, really pings it, and his drive bounces off the billboard behind the center field fence, some 400 feet behind home plate.

A home run?

Not here. Not at the College World Series.

At the College World Series, a home run is when a Cal State Fullerton left fielder catches a baseball over his right shoulder, takes a flying header into the wall, rolls around on the warning track and then, in pain, brings his gloved hand to his pounding forehead and releases the ball.

What Johnny Rosenblatt Stadium taketh away one day, Johnny Rosenblatt giveth back the next. Hit a baseball out of the old park, as Georgia Southern’s Rob Fitzpatrick did Friday, and they call it a double and you lose to Stanford in extra innings. Catch a baseball but fail to properly present it for the view of the umpire, as Fullerton’s Rich Gonzales did Saturday, and it’s a three-run home run and a seven-run second inning and a 14-4 Oklahoma State victory.

This, apparently, is the essence of Rosenblatt Ball.

Hit the wrong wall, lose the game.

Umpires admitted their mistake with Fitzpatrick, confusing the back wall with the front wall and, thus, confusing a home run with a double. That didn’t spare Georgia Southern from the losers’ bracket, but at least the Eagles arrived there with a sense of righteous indignation.

Umpires made no such claim with Gonzales. Instead, they dragged out the NCAA rule book and pointed to Page 24, Rule 2, which accomplished a couple of things.

It showed why Gonzales’ sprawling effort, lauded by Titan Coach Larry Cochell as a “major league play,” was declared a non-catch.

And it showed why the rule book is in dire need of a rewrite.

There wasn’t much more Gonzales could have done with the ball--and still retain consciousness. Racing straight back, Gonzales leaped to glove Michael Daniels’ drive and landed on the lip of the warning track. Gonzales’ momentum sent him tumbling into the fence, his head slamming into the wall, jerking his neck back with an ugly force.

For a moment, Gonzales lay on his side, back to home plate, before he rolled over and lifted his glove above his head. A moment later, the ball dropped out of the glove, joining Gonzales on the ground.

Third-base umpire Dick Runchey ran out from his position and waved the ball in play. Gonzales wasn’t going anywhere, not until an ambulance took him off the field 15 minutes later, and the ball remained on the gravel while Daniel and two Oklahoma State teammates circled the bases for a three-run, inside-the-park home run.

Cochell and the Titans protested, but the rule book shot down their arguments.

According to Rule 2: “In establishing the validity of the catch, the fielder shall hold the ball long enough to prove that he has complete control of the ball and that his release of the ball occurs after it was clearly evident that a ‘catch’ has been made . . . it is not a catch if, simultaneously or immediately following the fielder’s contact with the ball, he collides with a player or with a fence or if he falls down and, as a result of such a collision or falling, drops the ball.”

So says the rule book.

And the Titans?

“It’s a stupid rule if you ask me,” catcher Matt Hattabaugh said. “Is that was the ruling was? That he didn’t show the ball? A terrible rule.”

In third baseman Phil Nevin’s view: “There’s got to be a little asterisk there. What if you’re half-paralyzed? You could see him roll over and he had the ball in his glove.

“I was standing next to the umpire and he says, ‘You got to show me that he caught the ball.’ I said, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. How can he show you the ball when he just hit his head against the fence and he’s laying there?’ ”

Gonzales hit it with such force that Tim Brando, ESPN’s on-field announcer, likened the sound to a “sonic boom.” Nevin said he spotted a dent in the fence where Gonzales’ head landed. “His head hit straight against the fence,” Fullerton center fielder Domingo Mota said. “It was scary to see. He was hollering, ‘Oh my neck, oh my head.’ ”

Mota, Nevin and several other Titans immediately ran to Gonzales’ side. “He was almost in tears by the time we got there,” Hattabaugh said. “I tried to pick up his arm and it was like Jello. Dead weight. That’s what scared us. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t blinking a lot.”

Amid the huddle of trainers, coaches and players, Fullerton second baseman Mate Borgogno said a prayer. After 15 minutes, Gonzales was strapped to a stretcher, his head in a neck brace, and lifted into an ambulance.

It wasn’t until the fifth inning that the Titans got the good news, via a P.A. announcement, that Gonzales was resting comfortably, in good condition.

That became Fullerton’s lone solace Saturday night. The Titans trailed, 7-1, after Gonzales’ collision. An inning later, it was 12-1.

“That kind of took the heart out of us for a couple of innings,” Nevin said. “Rich is the guy that leads us out there. We’re just a different team when he’s not there.”

A leader by example is what they call Gonzales, and Saturday at Rosenblatt Stadium, he fit the description.

When Gonzales hit the wall, so did the Titans.