Fire hits home for athletes, coaches throughout North County

By: SCOTT BAIR - Staff Writer | Tuesday, October 30, 2007 12:11 AM PDT ∞

Peggy Brose walked into the office Friday morning and found a long list of voicemails awaiting her return. Rancho Bernardo High's athletic director went through each of them, shocked at the common content of each message.

They came from friends, extended family and total strangers. They originated from down the street and across the country. All offered support during a trying time for the Rancho Bernardo community, which was ravaged by the wildfires that swept through San Diego County.

The debilitating natural disaster prompted the nation's largest evacuation since Hurricane Katrina and shut down schools -- athletics and all -- for more than a week.

More than 100 Rancho Bernardo students lost homes during that span, including a number of athletes. Out of the devastation came unconditional generosity that included volunteers and equipment donations. One company promised to replace any letterman's jacket lost in the fire.

"The outpouring of support was incredibly moving," Brose said. "It came from people and places you'd never think of. It's incredible to see everyone rally together at a time like this."

All of North County was in some way affected by the firestorm that began nine days ago. There are tales of heroism and heartbreak, relief and worry, within the athletic community from this most trying time.

Here are just a few among the many.

'Smoke descended on us'

Mike Parrinello would have given all the money in the world to have brought his wife's heart medication.

Rancho Bernardo's girls and boys tennis coach had to get out in a hurry when the Witch Creek fire enveloped his RB neighborhood without much warning. He also had to help his parents, who live nearby, get out of an area that filled with ash and smoke in a matter of minutes.

It was 3:30 a.m. on Monday morning, and there wasn't much time to double check the contents of each bag and box. Parrinello finally got everyone out and headed for the coast.

"The wind was howling, and the smoke descended on us quickly," he said. "The fire was coming. It was nothing to mess around with."

As soon as Parrinello got out, however, he longed to get back in. He wanted to know the fate of his neighborhood and to retrieve the forgotten prescription. He tried many times once immediate danger had passed, only to be rebuffed time and time again.

"We were in limbo for four days, which was really difficult," Parrinello said. "There was nothing we could do."

Police suggested he take his wife to the emergency room while the area was closed. He chose to avoid that chaos and wait, finally gaining admittance on Thursday.

Alone, Parrinello re-entered to find a neighborhood that looked like a war zone. Destruction lined the streets. Rubble remained where pristine suburban homes once stood.

Parrinello's house was still there, as was his wife's medication.

Once he got in, strangely enough, he couldn't get back out.

"They told me I had to wait," Parrinello said. "(President Bush) was touring the area, and I had to stay there until he went through."

After that extra hour, Parrinello's wife finally got her medication. While his house remained, many of his friends, neighbors and students had to start from scratch.

"Rancho Bernardo got hit pretty hard," Parrinello said. "It's a sad time for a lot of people."

The great unknown

It was a stressful week for many, Scott Ashby among them. Torrey Pines' football coach had to evacuate his Carmel Valley home, but wasn't in immediate danger.

Several of his players, however, were. Ashby couldn't deal with the unknown and wanted to make sure his assistants and players were safe. That's a difficult task for someone in charge of more than 60 individuals. He couldn't call them all, but he couldn't just sit around and wait.

So he opened up his cell phone and started sending text messages. Lots of them. He breathed a sigh of relief with every positive reply. By midweek he had learned that all of his players and assistants were safe. None lost their homes, though there were two close calls.

"Thank goodness I signed up for unlimited texts," Ashby said. "If not, I'd be broke."

In the dark

Bret Hasvold sat around, waiting for the phone to ring.

There was nothing else for Fallbrook High's cross country superstar to do in his grandfather's Murrieta home, which was unfurnished and ready to be sold.

There wasn't a television to distract him. Air quality kept Hasvold indoors and off the running trails that would soothe his nerves. Even his beloved guitar was back in his Fallbrook home, leaving Hasvold alone with his mother, Lisa, and his imagination.

That imagination was working overtime early in the week, focused on a family member directly in harm's way.

His father, Chris, chose to ignore the mandatory evacuation order. He sent Bret and Lisa to safety, but stayed in the line of the Rice Canyon fire to protect the family home in the northeastern part of town.

The flames headed directly towards it, creating unthinkable anxiety in those left only to wonder and wait.

"It was pretty hard," Hasvold said. "I didn't know what was going on. ... Man, it was really difficult."

And so they sat, laptop focused on the news and phone within reach.

After hours that felt like days, the phone finally rang. Hasvold's father was all right, as was the family home. The police visited several times, encouraging Chris to evacuate; he ignored every visit, choosing instead to stand at the property line with a big garden hose and protect his home.

The power was out, leaving Chris to survive on crackers and cold canned food. He fended off the flames at his house and a few others. While his home remains, those of two of Bret's teammates do not.

"It's been a stressful week," Bret said.

A loss for No. 1

The Poway football team was in the midst of a season to remember. The Titans were a perfect 7-0, sharing the No. 1 spot in the CIF San Diego Section with a pivotal game against La Costa Canyon on the horizon.

On Sunday night and Monday morning of last week, however, there was a marked focus shift. It went from sports to family as the wildfires encroached on this tight-knit community. It forced widespread evacuation and put fear in the hearts of many.

Relief came later in the week, when most came back to find their homes intact.

Star running back Nick Ricciardulli had good news awaiting him: His house was unscathed, but the worst was far from over. That moment came when he heard that tight end Ryan Deehan, a close friend and a member of his football family, lost his home in the fire.

"I was heartbroken," Ricciardulli said. "I didn't even know what to think. Ryan's a good friend, and I really felt for him. Football became a lot less important this week. What matters now is that we take care of our own."

To serve and protect

Valley Center's Jason Klingerman wasn't in immediate danger Monday morning as the fires spread. He could have stayed home and watched the news with the rest of the county.

But Klingerman refused to sit around and do nothing. His school was being used as an evacuation site, and while he didn't have to go, he went to offer a helping hand.

He served meals all day and worked security all night, protecting those displaced from looters and vandals. He patrolled the school for nine straight hours, into the wee hours of Tuesday morning. He planned on doing the same the next day, when his family was forced to evacuate.

"The smoke moved in like a morning fog," he said. "We couldn't see anything, and the air was unbreathable. I had every intention of going back to school that day, but we had to get out."

That order sent the Klingermans west to Oceanside, but it didn't quell Jason's need to serve. He went to El Camino High, another evacuation site, and again offered up his services.

Klingerman did everything from serving meals to baby-sitting kids in a makeshift day-care center. The 6-foot-2, 268-pound teenager did some heavy lifting with his brother Justin, making pallets of water and food available to other evacuees. Despite extreme fatigue, the Klingermans refused to rest.

"Those firemen were out there risking their lives for us," Klingerman said. "We were sleeping as little as they were, but we weren't out on the front lines. It was the least we could do to help."

Klingerman was willing to do anything, even if it caused a little embarrassment. The El Camino evacuation center set up a makeshift luau at the camp to give evacuees respite from the near-constant fear for their homes.

Instead of serving food, Klingerman strapped on a hula skirt and joined the show. There is photo evidence that will surely garner ridicule from his teammates, but it will be worthwhile if it ease someone's mind, if only for a moment.

"In one way or another, we're all affected by what happened this week," Klingerman said. "This is a time where we all have to come together and help each other out."

-- Contact staff writer Scott Bair at (760) 739-6642 or sbair@nctimes.com.

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