Young Vin Scully

Whoever was responsible for the caption under Young Vin Scully’s photograph for Fordham University’s The Maroon seems to have forgotten a few words. The caption should read, Vincent Scully / The Bachelor of All Arts / The Radio Gentleman’s Gentleman.

Some people have said that Young Vin Scully is “in touch with Nature.” Instead, it should be said that Nature is in touch with him. For the Oceans of the World all model their waves after the form of Young Vin Scully’s coiffure; the Bees, their comb after the pattern on his self-woven necktie.

Having forgotten his overcoat at the hotel, Young Vin Scully ripped the awning off a bodega to lay across a large and oily puddle for a group of Fordham Prep students and their dates. To the young ladies, he doffed his cap; at the Fordham boys he cast a glance, which, for the rest of their lives, the boys would imagine whenever they failed to consider the well-being of others. As for the owner of the bodega, who had rushed outside in a huff, Young Vin Scully gently placed a hand on his shoulder and handed him a blank check. “For the repairs, and for your inconvenience,” was all that Young Vin Scully said.

Young Vin Scully doesn’t so much shave his face as he coaxes his whiskers to rest.

Young Vin Scully is capable of wonder and appreciation for many things on earth, even many things that are of lesser measure than himself — because almost all things will be of lesser measure than the man that Young Vin Scully knows he will become. Yet Young Vin Scully sees something in the future of which he is deeply skeptical: One day, they will try to name a street after Agéd Vin Scully. When that happens, when they try to name a street after Agéd Vin Scully, he will cock his unsmiling head in a way that evokes the determination of Young Vin Scully, and he will say, with both the force of the Oceans and the sweetness of the Bees’ Comb, “No, thank you, Mr. Mayor. In lieu of this action, please feed the hungry.”