The dirt was different in 2010. If you were sitting in the stands at Rosenblatt Stadium that June, you knew you were breathing in the last gasps of a legend. This wasn't just another tournament; the 2010 College World Series served as a violent, emotional, and high-scoring funeral for the most iconic venue in amateur sports. For sixty years, Omaha and Rosenblatt were synonymous. Then, everything changed.
Honestly, looking back at that bracket, it’s a miracle anyone’s arm stayed attached. This was the "Gorilla Ball" era in its final, mutated form. Before the NCAA introduced the BBCOR bat standards in 2011 to deaden the ball, we had one last summer of absolute madness. The ping of the aluminum was deafening. Every fly ball felt like a potential home run. It was chaotic. It was beautiful. And South Carolina stood at the center of it all.
The Ghost of Rosenblatt and the Final Out
You can't talk about the 2010 College World Series without talking about the venue. Rosenblatt Stadium sat on a hill, overlooking the zoo, a quirky, oversized cathedral that felt more like a neighborhood festival than a pinnacle of collegiate athletics. It was cramped. The concourses were narrow. But the energy? Unmatched.
The 2010 CWS was the 64th and final series held at the "Blatt" before the move to the shiny, corporate TD Ameritrade Park downtown. There was a palpable desperation in the air. Fans wanted one last memory. They got it in the form of a marathon.
South Carolina didn't exactly cruise into the finals. They actually lost their opening game to Oklahoma. In the old double-elimination format, that's usually a death sentence. But Ray Tanner’s squad had this weird, gritty resilience. They clawed through the loser’s bracket, knocking out Arizona State, then beating Oklahoma in a rematch, and finally toppling a powerhouse Clemson team—their biggest rival—twice just to reach the championship series.
Think about that pressure. You're playing your hated rival on the biggest stage in the world, knowing if you lose, you’re the team that let them play for the final Rosenblatt title. South Carolina didn't blink.
Whit Merrifield and the Hit Heard 'Round Columbia
The championship series pitted the Gamecocks against UCLA. This wasn't the UCLA of old; this was a modern, pitching-heavy Bruin team led by Gerrit Cole and Trevor Bauer. Yeah, that Gerrit Cole and Trevor Bauer. Two of the most dominant Major League pitchers of the last decade were on the same college staff. It felt unfair.
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The series went to a deciding Game 2 (after South Carolina took the first game 7-1). It was July 29, 2010. The game was a tense, nervous affair that stretched into extra innings. It stayed tied at 1-1 for what felt like an eternity. The tension in the stadium was thick enough to chew on.
Then came the bottom of the 11th.
The bases were loaded. Whit Merrifield—a name that every Kansas City Royals fan now knows by heart—stepped to the plate. He wasn't the "superstar" yet. He was just a kid from Advance, North Carolina, looking for a pitch to drive. He got a fast-ball on the outer half and sliced it into right field.
The image of Merrifield sprinting toward first, arms raised, while the South Carolina dugout emptied is the defining image of the 2010 College World Series. It was a walk-off. It was the last play ever at Rosenblatt.
The final score was 2-1. It's almost poetic that in a series defined by high-scoring offenses and pinging bats, the final game ever played at that stadium was a low-scoring pitcher’s duel decided by a single, clean hit.
Why the BBCOR Transition Changed Everything
If you watch college baseball today, it looks fundamentally different than it did in 2010. The 2010 College World Series was the "Last Hurrah" for the high-octane offense.
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The following year, the NCAA mandated BBCOR (Batted Ball Coefficient of Restitution) bats. Essentially, they made the aluminum bats perform like wood. In 2010, the national average for home runs per game was 0.94. By 2011, it plummeted to 0.52.
People argue about this constantly. Some purists say 2010 was "fake" baseball because the bats did too much work. Others argue that the current game is too slow and lacks the excitement of those 12-11 slugfests. Honestly, 2010 was the peak of that specific style of play. You had teams like Florida State and Florida consistently putting up double-digit runs.
When you look at the 2010 rosters, the talent was staggering.
- Gerrit Cole (UCLA): Future $300 million man.
- Trevor Bauer (UCLA): Cy Young winner.
- Jackie Bradley Jr. (South Carolina): Gold Glover and World Series champ.
- Matt Harvey (North Carolina): The future "Dark Knight" of the Mets.
- George Springer (UConn - though they didn't make the CWS that year, he was in the tournament): World Series MVP.
The sheer density of future MLB stars in that 2010 season was ridiculous. It was a golden age of talent meeting a golden age of technology (the hot bats), resulting in a product that was incredibly fun to watch, even if it was a bit "video game-ish."
The South Carolina Dynasty Nobody Saw Coming
South Carolina’s win in the 2010 College World Series wasn't a fluke. They went back and won it again in 2011. Then they made the finals again in 2012.
Ray Tanner built a culture of "finding a way." They weren't always the most talented team on paper—UCLA probably held that honor in 2010 with their twin aces—but the Gamecocks played better situational baseball. They sacrificed bunt. They moved runners. They had a bullpen led by Matt Price that was basically a buzzsaw in the late innings.
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There’s a common misconception that South Carolina just "slugged" their way to the title because of the bats. Not true. In the 2010 CWS, their pitching staff posted a 2.15 ERA over seven games. In a year where everyone was hitting homers, they simply stopped people from scoring. That’s the real secret to that championship.
The Cultural Shift: From the Hill to Downtown
Moving from Rosenblatt to TD Ameritrade (now Charles Schwab Field) changed the "vibe" of the CWS forever.
Rosenblatt was in a working-class neighborhood. People parked on lawns. The smell of grilled meats from the tailgates drifted into the stadium. It was gritty. The new stadium is beautiful, don't get me wrong. It’s professional. It has better bathrooms and more corporate suites. But it’s "cleaner."
The 2010 College World Series felt like a massive family reunion that lasted two weeks. When the lights went out for the last time, a piece of college sports history died with it. If you talk to Omaha locals, they still get misty-eyed about the "Blatt." They miss the "Dingers" and the chaos of the narrow aisles.
Actionable Takeaways for Modern Baseball Fans
If you’re a fan of the game today, there are a few things you should do to truly appreciate what happened in 2010:
- Watch the "Final Out" Footage: Go to YouTube and search for the final inning of the 2010 CWS. Pay attention to the sound of the crowd. It’s different than modern crowds—more visceral, more localized.
- Compare Bat Tech: Look up "BESR vs BBCOR." Understanding this technical shift helps you realize why the 2010 stats look so inflated compared to today. It makes South Carolina’s 2.15 ERA even more impressive.
- Study the Roster Construction: Look at how Ray Tanner built those 2010-2012 teams. They didn't rely on one superstar; they relied on depth and "clutch" hitting, a strategy that still works in the modern era of deadened bats.
- Visit the Rosenblatt Memorial: If you ever go to Omaha for the CWS, take a short drive to the Henry Doorly Zoo. They kept a small portion of the original infield dirt and the home plate location as a memorial. It’s worth the pilgrimage.
The 2010 College World Series was the perfect storm. It was the right teams, at the right time, at the most iconic location, using the most controversial equipment in the history of the sport. It was a bridge between the wild, unregulated past of college baseball and the professionalized, data-driven future we see today.
We won't see another one like it. The bats are quieter now, the stadiums are fancier, and the pitching is more scientific. But for a few weeks in June 2010, college baseball was loud, messy, and absolutely perfect.