By: Ed Dzitko
He had won a starting job in the infield sophomore year because he vacuumed up every grounder and line drive within his reach – gloved hand, bare hand, it didn’t matter. “Hands,” they all said, “You should be a wide receiver.”
Playing with the varsity quarterback in a pick-up game one day, he ran his defender inside, then spun outside, and streaked up field. The ball spiraled high. He anticipated its trajectory, heading toward the end of its rainbow.
He saw it land, for a split second, in his arms, then fall through to the ground. Baseball was clearly his game.