Rich Rowland, the former Detroit Tigers catcher who spent years fighting for a place in the big leagues, has died at 62. His son Robby shared the news on Thursday and described him as his hero, best friend and role model.
For many readers, Rowland’s name will be tied to the Tigers because that is where the story began and where it largely stalled. Detroit picked him in the 17th round of the 1988 draft, and Sparky Anderson gave him a look in 1990, but Rowland appeared in only 38 games over four seasons for the club, hit.205 with five RBI and never homered in a Detroit uniform.
That thin major-league line does not capture how hard Rowland pushed to get there. Born on Feb. 25, 1964, in Cloverdale, California, he starred in football, basketball and baseball before stepping away from the game for a stretch to work in the timber industry. When he came back, Mendocino College and changed the shape of his career. He hit.462 as a catcher, a burst that helped send him to Detroit and kept him in the system long enough to matter.
And Rowland did matter in places that did not show up in his Tigers totals. He spent most of his time with the Mud Hens, where 1992 became the season that defined his power: 25 home runs, 82 RBI, an International League All-Star selection and the Tigers’ minor-league player of the year award. Anderson saw enough to say Rowland was a big strong kid with lots of power and strength who had a great chance to play, even if the path in Detroit stayed crowded behind Mickey Tettleton.
The rest of his career moved quickly after that. Rowland was protected in the 1992 expansion draft, then the Detroit Tigers traded him to Boston for John Flaherty on April 1, 1994. He hit all nine of his career home runs in Boston during the strike-shortened season and finished his big-league career at.213 with 26 RBI in 98 games. The numbers fit together like a player who had enough power to keep getting another chance, even if the longest run never arrived.
What came after baseball was quieter. Rowland later returned to woodworking and life in Cloverdale, the same place where his story began. His death closes a life that moved from local standout to draft pick to journeyman catcher, and leaves Robby’s tribute as the sharpest reminder of what the game could not measure.
