Friend’s Memory Stays Close on Path to Pros

Fernando Rios still loves the sound of a bat striking a baseball, the indescribably sweet sensation of cracking a solid base hit.

Only now it comes with a price.

Rios beamed after lining a single to center field last week at Community Field in Burlington, Iowa. The hit raised Rios’ batting average and his stock as a minor league player for the Burlington Bees, Class-A affiliate of the Cincinnati Reds.

But for one brief and frightening moment, a nightmare returned: Rios swings, making solid contact, and the next thing he knows one of his close friends is slumped in a heap, dying.

It happened last summer. Rios and Julius Riofrir were taking batting practice when a ball Rios hit struck and killed his friend and former Glendale High School teammate.

Last week, the sharply hit ball grazed the pitcher’s shoulder, leaving Rios toeing the bag at first as the play tugged at his conscience.

“It skinned him,” Rios said of the pitcher. “It made me stop and think. I looked up to the sky. It was hard.”

Surely somewhere, Rios thought, Riofrir was applauding the base hit. Rios believes Riofrir always will watch over him on the baseball diamond.

Rios, 19, hopes there will be a career full of sharp singles, but knows that some are certain to trigger terrifying emotions--quite literally right off the bat.

But Rios continues to step up to the plate--despite the paltry paycheck, the loneliness of being far from home and the prospect of being forced to relive the tragedy in a courtroom.

His batting average entering the week was .256, steadily rising after hovering around .200 early in the season. He has five home runs and 31 runs batted in.

An outfielder, he has goals similar to any young player--a promotion next season to the next level. For him, that would be double-A Chattanooga, Tenn.

“I’m just trying to get a lot of at-bats,” said Rios, a Times All-Valley selection in 1997. “That’s all the coaches and managers are telling me to think about. They say, ‘We know you can hit. That’s why you’re here. Don’t worry about your average. And don’t worry about what happened.’ ”

Sharpening His Skills

On June 22, 1997, Rios and Riofrir cheerfully stepped into a batting cage at Stengel Field, adjacent to Glendale College.

Days earlier, Rios had been selected by the Reds in the 13th round of baseball’s amateur draft. Having already signed a contract, Rios was awaiting assignment to the club’s rookie-league affiliate in Billings, Mont.

Rios, with Riofrir pitching, intended to sharpen his batting skills. But in a frightening flash, Riofrir was struck in the temple by a batted ball that possibly caromed off a concrete curb surrounding the cage.

Riofrir, 17, crumpled to the ground and was taken by ambulance to Glendale Adventist Medical Center. He never regained consciousness and was declared brain-dead the next day.

Days after attending his friend’s funeral, Rios departed for Montana. He had not picked up a bat since the accident.

Could he ever again bring himself to hit a baseball?

“That was my first thought after it happened,” Rios said. “For days, I didn’t even want to go out of my room. When I got to Billings, I would just go home and sit in my room and I didn’t want to go anywhere. It was like that for a month.”

He may not have exorcised any demons, but within a few weeks, Rios proved he could still hit, lining a single in his first professional game.

“I got a base hit up the middle,” Rios said. “It was easier than I thought it would be. I think he was watching me. It was a relief.

“I don’t really worry about it happening again. It could. But it’s part of baseball.”

Teammates’ Camaraderie

Riofrir may now be looking down on Rios, but he looked up to him during their days as teammates.

A year younger than Rios, Riofrir, not as talented a ballplayer as his friend, celebrated Rios’ good fortune and fantasized about achieving similar success.

Riofrir teased Rios with salutations of “Mr. Cincinnati!” and “Hello, pro ballplayer!”

“He was really proud of me, I know,” Rios said.

The daylong bus rides to and from neighboring cities--like much of life in the Midwest for Rios--are long and lonely. It’s a far cry from Glendale High’s cross-town journeys to Crescenta Valley and Hoover high schools, and the amusement Riofrir provided for teammates.

“He was always laughing, making jokes on all the bus trips,” Rios said in a telephone interview from Burlington. “That’s what I always remember about him. He was always trying to be funny.”

Emotions overwhelmed Rios, and his voice began to crack.

“It’s all right. . . . I don’t like to talk to people about it,” he said.

As the only established witness to the accident, Rios might be forced to recount the details in a lawsuit filed by Riofrir’s parents against the city of Glendale and Glendale College.

Emmanuel and Julieta Riofrir filed suit in April in Glendale Superior Court seeking an unspecified sum for medical, burial and other expenses.

The city has denied liability and has filed its own complaint, alleging that the accident was the result of negligence on the part of Glendale College, which maintains and operates the batting cage.

A trial date has not been set. Robert Scapa of Encino, the Riofrirs’ attorney, said he estimates the trial will begin in about a year.

“Fernando will be deposed, either by me or the other attorneys,” Scapa said. “It’s too early to tell which way it will go.”

Rios remembers only what he told investigators the day of the accident: Riofrir clutching his head and falling to the ground. He does not recall seeing the ball ricochet or strike his friend.

Since Riofrir’s death, his parents have grieved privately and remained vigilant about maintaining their solitude. Family members appeared recently at Glendale High for a ceremony commemorating the establishment of a team award in Julius Riofrir’s name to be presented each year to the team’s most inspirational player.

Fred Lingad, a Glendale assistant coach and friend of the Riofrirs, conceived the award and invited the family to attend.

“They’re really very devastated by this,” Lingad said. “They reallydon’t want to talk with anyone about it.”

Perfecting Batting

Rios likes to talk about hitting. Hitting with wooden bats in the professional ranks, as opposed to the aluminum bats he used in high school. Hitting with a full count as opposed to with no strikes. Hitting with runners on base and with runners in motion.

“It’s all about getting a lot of at-bats,” Rios said. “That’s what’s so different about professional baseball. You really get tired, but you learn to hit when you’re tired. You learn to use your hands in different ways. You have to work harder.

“I’m so excited about this. It’s what I want to do and what I have to do to get there. But it’s hard. It’s really hard.”

Rios is trying to pour himself into his work. The few days he has away from baseball are usually spent alone. His diversions extend no further than a contemplative stroll by the banks of the nearby Mississippi River.

“He’s been troubled by it, I know, and we’ve talked about it,” Bees Manager Phillip Wellman said. “He’s made strides with it, I think. He used to be a little more afraid, a little less confident. Not too many people here know what happened. But he seems to be getting in the work and improving.”

Rios has not been in contact with the Riofrirs, although he expresses a love for the family.

“Right now, it’s better if I don’t talk to them,” he said. “But I write to friends and friends write to me. I hear they’re doing OK.”

During a recent trip home, Rios visited his friend’s grave, where he encountered Emmanuel Riofrir.

“We talked,” Rios said. “I gave him a baseball card of me and I signed it. He liked that.”