Published Aug 03, 2007 - 22:52:12 PDT
Fallen, but not Forgotten
Ten years ago, Glendale High baseball player Julius Riofrir was killed after he was struck by a ball in a freak
accident. Now, the program has honored his legacy with a fitting memorial
By Jonathan Raber
Located directly to the right of the tattered scoreboard, hanging on the right-field field wall of the Glendale
High baseball field, there lies a constant reminder of something that runs deeper than the game of baseball.
Sitting on the tan-colored brick wall, which serves as the barrier between the field and its neighboring pool,
a neatly crafted jersey resides just above the yellow home run line.
Painted in black with a red No. 8 outlined in white, and white lettering spelling out the name "RIOFRIR,"
the jersey, almost hidden to the naked eye from a distance, signifies a life taken too soon and a legacy not forgotten.
Unlike the names on the jerseys celebrating the glorious careers of previous softball stars plastered on the wall
at the school's adjacent Dalton Field, Julius Riofrir's jersey sits alone.
But rather than the jersey serving as a shrine of acclaim and accomplishment, the No. 8 jersey of the former Nitros
player doesn't stand for any on-field achievement. Instead, it signifies the memory of a bench player, who lacked
physical talent, but made up for it with an exuberant amount of heart.
"He was a wonderful, wonderful young man," former Glendale Coach Tony Zarrillo says.
It is that very sentiment which seems to be spoken by all those who had the pleasure and opportunity of coming
in contact with Riofrir.
Perhaps it's for this reason that the story of Riofrir is so unique, tragic and now, uplifting, at the same time.
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It begins innocently enough, just over 10 years ago, with a pair of friends doing what they loved best — playing
baseball.
On a typical Sunday summer's evening in June of 1997, with an American Legion game readying to begin in the background,
Riofrir and high school teammate Fernando Rios stood in the batting cage of Glendale's own Stengel Field.
Rios, 18 at the time, a Nitros standout and 13th-round draft pick of the Cincinnati Reds just days away from starting
his professional career, was taking cuts as Riofrir, 17, a little-used reserve infielder with a penchant of helping
out others, tossed batting practice.
"[Riofrir] was thrilled to be throwing batting practice to Fernando, who was about to get on a plane and be
on his way," says Spiro Psaltis, who coached Glendale up until 1997, the year Zarrillo inherited the program.
Then in an instant everything changed.
One pitch, one swing, two lives altered.
Throwing from behind a protective screen, Riofrir unleashed a pitch that was met squarely off of Rios' wooden bat.
The ball fired directly back toward the pitcher, leaving little time for a reflex, hitting Riofrir in the right
temple and knocking him to the ground unconscious.
"There was no witnesses, but those two," says Psaltis, who also was serving as an advisor for Rios' professional
career. "There was a cry for help, and everyone turned around."
The cry immediately caught the attention of players and fans, as the game was halted and the attention turned to
the scene of the freak accident. With the pay phone at the field out of order, a player wasted no time in rushing
across Cañada Boulevard to call 911.
Inconsolable, Rios watched as his friend lay motionless in the cage, paramedics treating Riofrir before transporting
him to nearby Glendale Adventist Medical Center.
Out of town at the time watching his step-daughter Kelley Cook and her travel softball team, Zarrillo had made
plans to show up to the park to take in the game.
Unbeknownst to him, there had been an accident. He knew something was not right when upon stopping by, the field
was desolate except for a handful of police officers.
"[The police] told me that there had been an accident and it wasn't good," Zarrillo recalls.
Over the ensuing hours, word of the accident spread and shook the community. Players, coaches and relatives took
to the hospital, hoping and praying that the life of a young man could somehow be saved and that everything could
return to normal.
By early Monday morning, things were anything but good. Riofrir held a temperature as high as 108 degrees, an indication
of brain damage, specifically diagnosed as massive closed-head trauma.
At 4:11 p.m. on Monday, June 23, 1997, Julius Riofrir, less than a week removed from high school graduation and
just beginning to scratch his potential influence on others, was pronounced dead.
The following day, he was taken off of a ventilator, his kidneys and liver donated to the Los Angeles area. Fitting
for a child, brother, friend and teammate who never hesitated to lend a helping hand.
"This kid had no reason to go beyond what people asked for, and he went out and did it," current Nitros
assistant Jesus Osuna says. "He has definitely been a great example for me to develop into the person I've
become."
The relationship between Osuna and Riofrir struck up just a year earlier on the baseball diamond. Merely acquaintances
at the time, the two would forever be linked by a number.
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Near the end of the 1996 school year, Osuna was in his final season as the Nitros third baseman, enjoying a memorable
campaign which included a Pacific League title.
On one particular afternoon, the varsity and junior varsity squads got together for practice. Osuna was fielding
groundballs at his position, alternating reps with a junior on JV, who was set to hopefully occupy the position
next year at the varsity level.
The junior was Riofrir, who happened to be wearing a No. 8 jersey. The same exact number Osuna currently had on
his back.
Here were two baseball players, playing the same position, who had never met, yet came together over a jersey number.
"I told him, 'You better get better, because I don't want people thinking it's me coming back [next year],'"
Osuna says. "That was always the joke."
Also on that team was Rios, a junior at the time, who was already earning a reputation as perhaps the best player
on the squad, serving as the starting center fielder and closer.
"You talk about a kid whose life revolves around baseball, that was Fernando," says Zarrillo, who coached
Riofrir and Rios during their senior seasons. "He had one of the greatest throwing arms I've ever seen on
a high school kid."
Osuna and Rios were best friends, a bond built even stronger through baseball. Two outstanding athletes who maintain
a close relationship to this day, with Rios serving as the godfather to Osuna's first son.
And then there was Riofrir, just trying to fit in, yearning for playing time, while never giving anything less
than 100% effort no matter what the circumstances.
"[Riofrir] wasn't the most talented guy on the field, but he was the kind of guy every program needs,"
says Zarrillo, who's currently the Crescenta Valley football coach. "He was not real gifted as a baseball
player, but he would do whatever you asked.
"If you had a non-starting captain, he would be that guy."
Rios and Riofrir's senior season went pretty much as expected. Rios carried the Nitros to an 16-9 record and third-place
league finish behind Crescenta Valley and Arcadia. Riofrir watched from the dugout, serving as his team's biggest
supporter and having little reservations about his role.
While it seems that the accomplishments of Rios' fantastic career would be the most likely to be represented with
the retiring of his jersey, it would in fact be Riofrir leaving the longest lasting legacy in Glendale baseball
history.
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Being from out of state, Oregon to be exact, Jon Keefer knew nothing of the horrible event which unfolded nearly
10 years before his arrival at Glendale in 2006.
The current Nitros coach had seen the painted jersey on the wall, but like many others around him, knew nothing
of its significance.
In a strange twist, that same number adorning the wall was the number Keefer had sported his whole baseball career.
With no one able to give him an answer as to the importance of the number, largely due to a lack of information,
Keefer thought nothing of wearing No. 8 in his first year on the job.
It wasn't until late in the season that Osuna approached Keefer about what Riofrir, his jersey and his legacy not
only meant to the Nitros baseball family, but the entire community.
So with the help of Psaltis, Osuna and Keefer came up with what could be the most fitting tribute of all. The coaches'
award at Glendale for 2007 and beyond would forever be named the Julius Riofrir Coaches' Award.
"Only because Julius exemplified everything of what a quote-unquote coaches' award was," says Psaltis,
who plans to present the Riofrir family with a No. 8 circa-1997 jersey and a ball signed by the 2007 Glendale squad.
"It was just beautiful that they were able to make it happen."
"That's the biggest reason, I wanted to make sure that he wasn't forgotten," says Osuna, whose brother,
Chris, is currently a member of the Nitros. "The coaches' award, that's something big."
When the inaugural presentation of the award was handed out at the team's season-ending banquet, senior Jonathan
Cruz was presented with the honor.
Much like Riofrir 10 years before him, Cruz was the heart of Glendale baseball.
"It's the player who always gives it his all," Keefer says. "All-around, on and off the field, [Cruz]
was someone we could count on to come through for us."
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For the two friends in the batting cage that fateful evening, hopes and dreams of growing old together, still united
with a bond over baseball, were suddenly shattered.
Life threw a curve ball neither Riofrir or Rios was ready for.
Unfair as it might be, one life was lost and one was forever changed.
"It's kinda weird how life works its ways," Osuna says. "The kinda guy like [Rios] is someone you
would wish nothing but good stuff."
And with the accident still fresh in his head, Rios embarked on fulfilling his dream of playing Major League Baseball.
Beginning in Billings, Mont., where he wore No. 8 in Riofrir's honor, and spanning 10 seasons from the Midwest
to California and now to Mexico, Rios' baseball dream still lives on.
However, not a day goes by that the sport which he loves does not remind him of Riofrir, his motivation to keep
forging ahead.
"You can hear it in his voice, you can tell it still gets to him," Osuna says.
Back in Glendale, miles from Rios' home in Monterey, Mexico, his fallen friend continues to serve as a reminder
to all those adorning a baseball jersey.
A reminder of friendship, a reminder that life is bigger than a game and a reminder of a young man who will forever
be a Nitro at heart.
"There was hardly ever a time [Riofrir] didn't have a smile on his face," Zarrillo says.
And you can bet, each time the Nitros players step across the baseline, taking the field for another battle, Julius
Riofrir is sitting front row, smiling down from the heavens.
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JONATHAN RABER covers sports. He can be reached at (818) 627-3225 or by e-mail at jonathan.raber@latimes.com.