Another Southpaw Who Thinks Left-Handed : College baseball: Cal Lutheran can live with Norville’s quirks because he has 16 victories in two seasons.

Certain baseball terms cannot be found in reference books.

For instance, calling a left-handed pitcher “a typical lefty” has far-reaching implications.

Proof positive: Meet Pat Norville, pitcher on the Cal Lutheran baseball team and “a typical lefty,” according to those who know him.

Before each batter, Norville turns toward center fielder Jason Wilson and chirps like a bird. Wilson, the silent type, points back.

Then Norville turns toward the corner men on the Kingsmen infield and hisses like a cat. If they echo the sound, Norville is confident his defense is “locked in” and ready for him to pitch.

There is a logical explanation for all this, of course.

“I pride myself and being able to field my position on bunts,” Norville said. “I’m real quick off the mound, like a cat. And when a cat is on defense or attacking it’s hiss, hiss , so that’s what everybody does.”

Challenge that posture and risk a Cal Lutheran hiss fit.

Norville recalled making a diving stab of an opponent’s grounder, whirling, and nipping the runner at first.

“The whole dugout, everyone on the field, the whole place, was going crazy with that sound, ssst, ssst ,” Norville said. “It really pumps me up. It’s a little extra psychological thing that gets the juices flowing.”

The bird chirp dates to his days as a basketball player at Estancia High in Orange County. Norville once tweeted so shrilly and precisely that an opponent stopped his dribble and stared at the referee, wondering what the whistle was for.

“I got kicked out of the game,” Norville said. “A lot of my friends will never forget that one.”

Whacky, whimsical and eccentric, Norville is a rare bird indeed. He is in no way typical, and neither is his success.

Norville takes a two-year record of 16-4 with an earned-run average of 2.24 into Saturday, when he is scheduled to start for Cal Lutheran in the second game of an NCAA Division III playoff doubleheader against Redlands at Moorpark College.

Last summer, Norville was chosen best pitcher in the Alaskan Summer League, an off-season showcase for many of the nation’s top collegiate prospects. Pitching for the Peninsula Oilers, he had a 6-1 record and five complete games, including two one-hitters.

Not bad for a converted relief specialist whose idea of an overpowering pitch is a toe-high changeup. Yet, for all his achievements, Norville’s reputation for zany antics precedes him.

Between innings of a tournament game at UC San Diego early this season, a base umpire approached Eric Johnson, Cal Lutheran’s first baseman, and said, “Remember that guy with the San Diego Padres, that left-hander who was really superstitious?”

Johnson, playing along, said he did. “Well, that guy was weird,” the umpire said. “But your lefty? He is really, really weird!”

During that same game, Norville chased down the plate umpire, who had vacated his usual station in order to refresh himself with a drink.

Rushing up to him, Norville tossed the baseball to the startled man. “Here,” he said, turning his glove up for a return throw. The umpire flipped the ball back. “Thanks,” Norville said, trotting off to warm up.

Baffled, the umpire watched the pitcher for a few seconds, a perplexed expression on his face as he slowly shook his head.

Tradition had been upheld. In every other inning, the umpire had flipped the ball to Norville as he ran out to the mound to warm up. “The one time he didn’t, I got out there and said, ‘Something isn’t right,’ ” Norville said. “I wanted to stay in that same rhythm.”

Opposing players usually ignore Norville’s frolics--they have yet to bark when he hisses--but on occasion they react. One went so far as to swipe his rat.

For Cal Lutheran, last season was the year of the rat, a creature whose traits the players attempted to emulate while on the baseball field. Rats get dirty and take advantage of any opening, just as the Kingsmen preferred to do.

Norville packed his own rat, a small, plastic replica that he placed behind the mound while he was pitching. “After every out, I would go back and readjust it, move it to a fresh spot,” Norville said.

A Claremont player noticed and, after an out, swooped in to nab Norville’s furry friend while making a return loop to the dugout.

“They were trying to break the thing we had going, but it didn’t work,” Norville said. “We still won.” The rat was returned after the game.

Only privately does Norville have a serious side.

A second consecutive trip to the Division III World Series is extra important to him, he said, because he still owes a debt to his father, George.

“More than anything, I want that championship ring for my dad,” he said. “I want the victory for my team, but the ring for my dad.”

George Norville, who has been his son’s staunchest supporter, has had a rough few years. Two years ago, he was divorced. Then, six months after that, George’s father died.

“I don’t even like to talk about it because it gets me upset, but he was really down,” Norville said. “What makes him happy is to see me play ball. It makes me happy when I do well because I know I’ve made someone out there real proud.”

A championship ring, Norville said, “would be the best gift I could ever give him.” Which is one reason why the final moments of last season’s national championship game is so deeply etched on his consciousness.

Norville carried a two-hit shutout into the ninth inning of the title game against William Paterson (N.J.) College. His pitch hit John DiGirolamo, the Pioneers’ first batter of the inning.

With Cal Lutheran clinging to a 1-0 lead, Norville was replaced by bullpen ace Mike Teron, a right-hander who Hill surmised would be tougher to bunt against.

That part of the strategy worked. Teron recorded the first out of the inning when Dan Bartolomeno struck out trying to sacrifice. However, the rest of Hill’s plan unraveled.

The second pitch to Keith Eaddy, the next batter, was a well-timed pitchout. But Eddie Lample’s throw to second was dropped by second baseman Jason Wilcox, who got a late break to the base. Eaddy walked and Ralph Perdomo blasted a 2-and-1 pitch over the right-center-field fence for a three-run home run.

The Kingsmen went down in order in their half of the ninth and William Paterson, a team with 17 losses, was national champion.

“I felt (Hill) took me out of a game I never should have come out of,” Norville said. “But when it happened, I didn’t say anything. I was in shock. I was like, ‘Yeah. OK, let’s do it. Lets get ‘em.’

“I didn’t know what the score was or what inning it was. I was unconscious. It was one of those games when I could throw anything and it was working. It didn’t hit me until I came out and there was a guy on second base. It made me realize, it’s the ninth inning and we have a chance to win this game.”

Norville said he and Hill didn’t talk much afterward until September, after school started. A similar situation during Cal Lutheran’s regional victory over UC San Diego last season apparently weighed heavily in Hill’s decision.

In that game, Norville also hit the leadoff batter in the ninth. The second batter pushed a bunt along the first base line and Norville short-armed a wild throw to first. San Diego went on to tie the score, forcing the Kingsmen to win in extra innings.

“He must have had flashbacks when he saw that,” Norville said. “They were going to bunt and all he could say was, ‘I refuse to let that happen again.’ ”

Should a similar situation arise during the playoffs this season, Norville said his coach will have to drag him off the mound.

“It just won’t happen,” Norville said. “I will refuse to come out. I said before the season started, if we can go back, whatever it takes, I want to be the pitcher out on that mound. I hope I’m fortunate enough to be in that spot. If not, I’m going to do whatever it takes to get this team to that game whether I pitch in it or not.”

Last season, he gave his father the watch that Cal Lutheran players received for being regional champions. It was a gift, Norville said, that “wasn’t good enough.”

“That ring is the greatest gift I could give him,” Norville said. “It’s something money can’t buy. I mean, I’m not a 4.0 (student) or a great (professional) prospect or anything. The one thing I could do to make him happy is to make that dream come true.”

It is an opportunity he covets. Which brings to mind a ritual Norville took part in last season before the regional.

Four Kingsmen pitchers were working on Cal Lutheran’s field, which was soggy from rain. When they lifted a tarp near home plate, they found dozens of worms at the surface.

One of the players asked his teammates how badly they wanted to go to Battle Creek, Mich., site of the Division III World Series. Badly enough to eat a worm?

“We said, ‘Let’s do it!’ ” Norville recalled, laughing. So they did. And they got to the series.

One might only imagine what Norville might think up this year.