The way Jim Brownlee remembers it, Anthony Molina was fortunate to not have died on the baseball field 10 years ago this month.| Christensen keeps low profile

Molina's lifelong dream to play major league baseball, and perhaps coach the sport at a high level, was wrenched away from him on April 23, 1999, when he was the victim of one of the most heinous acts ever carried out on a baseball field, a deed embedded in the memories of all who were there.

"It was a very unfortunate situation and we're lucky Ben Christensen didn't kill Anthony Molina," said Brownlee, Illinois State's head baseball coach who was Molina's coach at Evansville in 1999. "(Christensen) hit him in the head with a 92 mph fastball when the guy's not looking. I don't think anybody who was there will ever forget about it."

Molina was the leadoff man and star third baseman for Evansville, one of those tough, scrappy, grab-every-edge-you-can players who often rubbed opponents the wrong way.

Warming up on the mound for the home team that day was Wichita State's Christensen, who was widely regarded as the best pitcher in college baseball. Christensen was 21-1 in his college career and seemed destined to be one of the first players selected in the June amateur draft.

He felt Molina was trying to time his pitches so he directed a 92-mph warmup throw at Molina, who was standing 24 feet from home plate. Molina looked up just as the ball arrived, crushing his left eye, destroying his vision, breaking three bones and opening a cut that required 23 stitches.

That set off a string of events that made national headlines.

"It was really uncalled for and not a good situation. (I remember it) just like it was yesterday," Brownlee said last week. "I'll never forget it. Life is very fragile and I wouldn't want to ever do that to another human being."

"It was a horrible day for college baseball," said Wes Carroll, who was then one of Molina's teammates and who now is Evansville's head coach. "I'd never seen anything so vicious on a baseball field before. To witness that and to see one of your friends go through that was something I'll never forget."

Today, Molina, 31, has a blind spot in his left eye, poor peripheral vision and almost no depth perception. He has had surgery on the eye three times and figures to undergo more procedures periodically throughout the rest of his life.

Yet his view of what happened to him 10 years ago remains crystal clear.

So does his view of the future.

"Life is not going to wait around for me to sulk and sit in sorrow," said Molina, whose brother, Jay, lettered at Illinois State in 2004 and 2005. "Even if people feel sorry for you, there's no money in that. I need to make a living somehow."

Molina now works as a senior credit manager for a financial firm in Bettendorf, Iowa, while also giving baseball lessons on the side.

Although he was not as highly regarded a prospect as Christensen, Molina appeared likely to be taken in the draft.

Instead, the vision in his left eye went from 20/10 to 20/400. His chances of a pro career went from decent to nonexistent.

"When I knew I was not going to be able to play baseball anymore, I realized I had to do something with my life," he said.

He has had a string of different jobs, including brief coaching stints at Wabash Valley Community College and Sherrard High School (in the spring of 2007).

"He's come a long way," said Augie Molina, his father. "It hasn't been easy. The last year or so he's bounced back OK, but it wasn't easy for him to get over that."

Molina said the time he spends giving baseball lessons to aspiring players of all ages gives him more joy than his day job. He works with players on hitting, pitching, baserunning, fielding. Molina did it all as a player and he now teaches it all.

He has three children - Taylor, Anna Lee and Anthony Jr., all under age of 4. He is recently divorced.

He seemingly has bounced back from something that might have ruined some lives, but he admits that he still thinks about what he missed out on, especially when he sees athletes he played with or against doing their thing on television.

"There's not a day that goes by that I don't wish I could play baseball for a living," he said. "Even if you're just making the major league minimum, that's a lot of money and you're playing a game for a living. The guys who are blessed enough to be able to do that appreciate it and know how lucky they are."

Pantagraph sports writer Randy Reinhardt contributed to this story.