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Chapter 11: Untouchable




      "Cunningham, get out there at short," calls Coach Zerilla after our bats come alive in the coolness of an early October evening at Paterson Field.

"He's a polished fielder," shrugs starter Brett Goff plopping down beside me at the end of the dugout and inserting a pinch of snuff behind his lower lip. "We'll see what happens in the spring.”



     Our last game of the fall season against Western Kentucky had become a blowout after four innings. In the bottom of the third the Dukes and Tony Valenti had smashed doubles off the red monster before sophomore outfielder Chris “Spider” Webb cracked a towering grand slam over the low brick wall in right. This game was my last chance to show what I could do in the field before winter break, and I was spending it on the bench.

     I was about to turn eighteen and I hadn't told anyone I was thinking of leaving the team after the fall, but our starting shortstop seemed to sense my growing resentment at a different freshmen getting more playing time. I'd been in this spot before when the son of the coach was inserted in my position for the summer American Legion season. Starting at second base was a demotion after the high school spring season when I'd been picked as the all-county shortstop above that son. The writing on the college wall was telling me I’d only ever be a designated runner for Louisville baseball.



     "You're untouchable out there!" exclaims Tony Branch, a freshmen basketball player across the hall who’d watched the pick-up game on the campus lawn from his dorm window.  

“Is there a scholarship for touch football?” I frown throwing open my door to a snoring roommate.

“No, not at this school,” he laughs, not catching my surprise at the revelation he’d just revealed.





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