ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. -- Von Hayes tried saving us all.

The moment came just prior to the 1990 grand opening of the stadium that will host Friday night’s American League Championship Series opener, Tropicana Field. Hayes, a Philadelphia Phillies outfielder at the time, was called upon to make sure that those who built this monstrosity didn’t mess up.

“After the stadium was finished they decided to have somebody come over and show they couldpick up fly balls (off the white roof),” remembered Rick Nafe, the Vice President of Stadium Operations at The Trop. “They had all the city officials there, and one of the Phillies coaches hitting pop-ups. So he hit the first one and Von is in left field. He pounded his glove and then purposely let the ball fall eight feet behind him. He did it again on the next one, not moving while it fell to his right. You could hear a pin drop. There were a lot of political careers flashing right before their eyes.”

It was all a joke, kind of like what the field currently represents when it comes to representing the site for this season’s ALCS.

The whispers in the Red Sox clubhouse started the last time the team came through town, following a game in which the stadium wreaked havoc on the intricacies of the game. There were two home runs, by Jason Bay and David Ortiz, which hit catwalks and never came down, and one other pop fly in foul ground that Kevin Youkilis caught but was ruled out of play because the ball hit one of those same support structures.

The hypothetical queries began: What would happen if these catwalks decided a real, live playoff game?

“It seems like it’s happening more and more,” said Red Sox bench coach Brad Mills of the sight of balls hitting the four rings that help hold up the roof and reside everywhere between 59 to 194 feet off the ground. “It’s going to happen, there’s no doubt about it.”

It is Mills job to understand each and every nuance that comes with the aberration, going through what he calls the lengthiest ground rules of any park in the major leagues.

But the one explanation Mills won’t get when he ventures out to confer with the umpires at home plate before Game 1 Friday night is why these teams have to put up with this. Why don’t they just have an “automatic win of the game” bulls-eye in center field? Or perhaps there should be a spot in the park where it supplies the opportunity to hit a 10-run homer?

Yet with all the frustration surrounding these catwalks – which have now been hit in fair territory 11 times this season (9 by the visiting teams), and 96 in all – what offers even more anxiety is understanding why they are there.

As it turns out, when the company HOK Sport designed the stadium, which broke ground in 1986, it was deemed impossible for a baseball player to generate enough power to hit one these structures.

Then, in the Rays’ first season, reality struck. Frank Thomas did what HOK thought was impossible for most mere mortals. He hit a baseball up into the catwalk.

“As things went along and I got over here I was always under the impression some of these things were going to come into play,” said Nafe, who arrived with the Rays in 1998. “The players were getting bigger, all of a sudden looking like linebackers. And, sure enough, that first year we got one hit.

“Back then they built this thing I guess there wasn’t anybody strong enough to launch a ball that far and that high. But they never thought anybody would hit the gondola in the (New Orleans) Superdome, but (former Oakland Raiders punter) Ray Guy did it."

As Nafe explains, there is nothing they can do about it now. Too many cables, wires and beams are holding this thing together.

There are some elements of the stadium you can give HOK a tip of the hat to, such as the idea to cut down air conditioning costs by limiting the surface area in half the structure thanks to the tilting of the roof. (Saving money on air conditioning? Now that’s a small market team.)

And for every fiber of orange field turf (bearing a striking resemblance to the fur of the Sesame Street character, Snuffleupagus) there is a bit of character thrown into the mix, such as the sight of two mice playing in front of the Red Sox’ dugout Thursday.

But all of fun-filled sights and sounds that will add to the big game are also on the verge of being brought to a crashing halt. Forget crying, there should be no catwalks in baseball.

“There’s just nothing we can do,” Nafe said.

Except roll our eyes, and hope for a lot of ground balls.