Thea Chard, a features writer at the USC Daily Trojan, has crafted a wonderful version of the Ralph Fruguglietti story. I had notified a half-dozen media outlets after posting Tom Fahey’s original tale of Ralph’s meeting with a mysterious discus expert at a northern Italian track. But Thea was the only writer to take a serious interest. And she delivered big time after interviewing Ralph several times. Here’s her 1,300-word story as posted today. The future of journalism is in good hands with budding stars like Thea Chard.

Here’s Thea’s story, in case the link goes bye-bye:

Trojan alumnus finds own field of dreams
Fifth in a series of profiles of the Trojan family
By: Thea Chard
Posted: 10/4/07
When Ralph Fruguglietti stepped off the bus in front of Parco San Giuliano in Venice, Italy, he had no idea he would be landing in his very own field of dreams, where the sun was warm, the breeze refreshing and his lifelong yearnings serendipitously placed within reach.
The early-morning sunlight sprawled across the vacant grounds, whisking the 52-year-old discus thrower back to days of youthful athleticism and endless opportunity. A voice spoke to him. The message? It’s never too late to be a champion.
Fruguglietti, a USC alumnus, won two consecutive silver medals at the national championships in discus for the Trojans in 1976 and 1977. But he hung up his track shoes at 22 for a job, marriage and a family.
Now, 30 years later, Fruguglietti found himself back in Riccione, Italy for the 2007 World Masters Athletic Championships, a biannual competition for world-class athletes 35 and older.
An ardent athlete, Fruguglietti was excited to participate in the world championships for the first time, previously winning gold medals in three national masters competitions.
But it was a mysterious encounter with an old man at his field of dreams that left him feeling a very unique brand of pre-competition awe.
“Sometimes in life, when you’re working toward something, you’re always looking for some kind of inspiration to kind of get you to the next level,” Fruguglietti told me over the phone, a tone of soft reverence in his voice, as he recounted the story of what has now become a momentous day for him.
He speaks slowly and pauses often. He tells the story almost disbelievingly, as if it had not
actually happened to him; it seems as though he’s reciting an old tall tale.
“I had been throwing really well in practice,” Fruguglietti said. “I knew I was ready technically, but at the same time my last workout in the United States was on Monday and the competition was the following Monday.”
Like any competitor, going into a world championship cold was simply not an option; he knew he would have to find a place to practice. Expecting the worst, Fruguglietti asked around for a small area of grass or cement to throw on.
“My expectations were so low because we were in Venice, for crying out loud,” he said. “You’ve got canals, you’ve got 1,000-year-old buildings – the chances of finding something are pretty slim.”
Fruguglietti’s hotel receptionist directed him to Parco San Giuliano. Picturing a small multi-purpose soccer/football/baseball field, he was not at all prepared for what he found there.
“I get to this park and it’s huge – 100 plus acres – and I can’t find the track that she’s talking about. There’s soccer fields, there’s tennis courts, there’s everything you can imagine, but I can’t find the track,” he said. “It was totally hidden with all these trees that were there, all these evergreens. You just couldn’t see anything.
“So I go around to the other side, and as soon as I look in, it was just unbelievable. Here my expectations were just so low. Literally, if I had found a piece of concrete and grass, I would have been thrilled, and here there’s this track that is strictly for track, which is really unusual in the first place.
“I could see the discus ring all the way at the other end with all the netting up and everything and you’ve got evergreens all around it … for a guy that was willing to take a slab of concrete, this was incredible.”
Having found a discus-thrower’s paradise, Fruguglietti began his workout feeling particularly confident. Reveling in the oasis around him, he noticed something peculiar off in the distance. After a few throws, he noticed an old man get onto a lawn mower and begin to cut the grass. Being careful not to hit the man, he couldn’t help but catch his gaze every few minutes as he threw his discus, retrieved it and threw it again.
“We were kind of watching each other,” Fruguglietti said. “So, after about 15 throws, he stopped in the middle, and I’m walking out to get my discus, and he stops right in my path.
“As soon as I get to him, he shuts off the lawn mower engine, leans over and says, ‘How old are you?’ and I said, ‘I’m 52 years old,'” Fruguglietti said, translating the conversation from Italian as he spoke. “And he goes, ‘You have very, very good technique’ and I say, ‘Well, thank you.’ And then he said, ‘But if you slow down out of the back, I think you’ll throw farther,’ with all the confidence in the world.”
Fruguglietti pauses here, his voice pregnant with expectation.
“And the thing that’s amazing about that comment is that it was exactly what my coach said on Monday. He said, ‘Ralph, you’ve got to slow down out of the back. You’re too anxious to get to the throw, to rip it. You need to slow down in order to hit the right position, so remember that.'”
When he finished his workout, Fruguglietti began to collect his things, shaking his head in disbelief, considering the possibility that his coach had sent the man to instruct him. When he returned to Riccione later that day, he shared his experience with fellow masters champion and friend Tom Fahey, a professor at Chico State who also competes in discus.
Fahey suggested that it might have been Adolfo Consolini, a famous Italian athlete who won two Olympic medals in the discus throw: the gold medal in 1948 and the silver medal in 1952.
“I had never thought about that because I didn’t know who Adolfo Consolini was,” Fruguglietti said. “I looked on the Internet and did a search for Adolfo Consolini and what really impressed me is that there were similarities … he had the same type of chin that Consolini had, nose, strong jaw, the whole nine yards. So I thought, ‘There’s got to be some family ties’ … As far as I knew, he could have been 60 years old, 70 years old, alive and in the area.”
But Fruguglietti soon came across a startling piece of information: Consolini had died in 1969. Distracted by the nearing competition, Fruguglietti set aside his investigation to prepare for the championship. His friends, however, were not as easily sidetracked.
Fruguglietti went on to win the gold medal in the M50 discus with a throw of 195-7, 8 inches farther than the second-place distance. Fahey retold the story of the encounter often, captivating other masters champions and track-and-field fans around the world.
A week later, the tale of the phantom Olympian had traveled through circles of discus connoisseurs. It was Rosa Marchi, an M40 sprinter (who introduced herself as the Italian “Amelie Poulain” for her aptitude for investigating the paranormal) who solved the mystery. Marchi contacted numerous people at the Parco San Giuliano and found that the ghost of Adolfo Consolini was in fact Giorgio d’Este, the manager and coach of a local track-and-field team called Gruppo atletico A.Coin.
Although the phantom was found out, Fruguglietti still regards that day as one of the most significant and memorable in his life.
“It was just like a discus-throwing ‘Pleasantville’ – like the basketball players where every shot goes in,” he said.
Fruguglietti found a field of dreams that day, and in a chance encounter met a man he saw for only a moment, who helped him win the gold – and for that, he will never forget it.
“I got to the gate, and I take one last look back just to take a look at the track and see if he’s there,” Fruguglietti recalled in wonder. “And he pops into the doorway of the dressing room and gives me a wave and a nod like, ‘Good luck and I’ll see you sometime.'” And then he was gone.