Molly Sunshine

By Bob Arnone

It is 2003, and Molly Sunshine is a young girl with a dream buried deep within her soula dream that most consider impossible to achieve. She wants to be the first woman to play major league baseball. As she matures from an idealistic girl into a tenacious twelve-year-old, Molly embarks on a daring journey to break the barrier to traditional thinking.

Although her talent is obvious, Mollys struggles are monumental as she begins to threaten the sanctity of a national pastimeboth run and played by men. When she adds her name to a list to try out for the boys junior high baseball team, Molly must rely on unwavering support from her loving father as she challenges over one hundred years of history and attempts to make a name for herself in the world of baseball. But what no one knows is that Molly has a plan. Now only time will tell if she can execute it, despite seemingly insurmountable odds, an unexpected tragedy, and the powers behind a male-dominated sport determined to keep it that way.

Molly Sunshine shares the tale of a teenagers inspirational march to transform gender barriers and become the first female professional baseball player.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781532009495

Bob Arnone

BOB ARNONE grew up on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. He earned his bachelor’s and master’s degrees from St. John’s University. Arnone and his wife, Patricia, have four daughters, one son, and ten grandchildren, and reside in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida. He is also the author of Deadly Imposter.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Early Years

THE YEAR WAS 2003 and the place was Williamsport, a city in Pennsylvania. It was a balmy sixty-seven degrees, a typical day in May for that time of year. It was mid-morning on Saturday, families were strolling through the spacious Susquehanna State Park, enjoying nature’s spectacular bounty of the colorful spring foliage. Flowering magnolias, burgeoning daffodils, lavender hydrangea, purple, red and yellow tulips were surrounded by blossoming cherry trees, all in harmony with bicycle riders whizzing by skaters and kite flyers, while another family was playing America’s national past time.

Jake, keep your eye on the ball, demanded the father of his ten-year-old son. His twin brother, Kyle, waited his turn. It had been some years earlier when Todd Sunshine had heard a similar cadence. He reflected upon his father, who had trumpeted the same call.

Todd, keep your eye on the damn ball. Don’t let him beat you with that nickel curve, yelled the elder Sunshine, his seventeen-year-old son, stepping out of the batter’s box, concerned that he would disappoint his father, embarrassed by his vocal commands.

When the game concluded, Todd had to endure a half-hour commentary on his lack of performance, his father reminding him that the professional and college baseball scouts would walk away, forgetting his name.

Dad, I’m trying my best, exclaimed the beleaguered boy, his father shaking his head in disgust.

Well, your best isn’t getting it done, bellowed the Pennsylvania coal miner.

Did you ever think, just maybe, that I might care about being something more than a baseball player? Said the disheartened teenager.

What the hell does that mean? Are you telling me you’re a quitter? Maybe you should help your mother in the kitchen with your sister. I give up on you. I have a damn quitter for a son, said the elder, Sunshine.

The boy slumped in his seat, burying his head on the table. The fun of the game was drained by impossible expectations.

Todd Sunshine never played professional baseball, but managed to play for his college team. His father never attended another game, perishing in a coal mining accident two weeks before his son’s graduation. He was fifty-one-years old.

Don’t forget boys, practice after dinner. If you wanna make the team next season, you need to step up your game or there’s no chance of competing in the little league world series. Your grandfather made sure I was ready. He worked with me everyday, so when I was eligible at eleven, there was no doubt about my chances of making the team.

Todd, the boys have homework to do, can’t it wait until they finish? Said his wife.

Jessica, daylight will last for another hour or so…and besides, why wasn’t their schoolwork done when they came home? Asked the trim, six-one husband, brushing his sandy colored hair from his eyes.

They had some friends over for a playdate. It’s a break from school and gives them a chance to relax, said the pretty, five-eight redhead of Irish decent.

The Sunshine’s backyard was quite unique. Todd had erected his own baseball field of dreams, equipped with a netted hitting cage and a Jug’s pitching machine. He would hit ground balls to the boys and then have them take batting practice in the cage. But first, they would have warm up drills that consisted of stretching exercises and running the bases, making sure they touched each corner of the three bags before stepping on home plate.

Daddy, can I run with Jake and Kyle? Asked his daughter, Molly, the petite eight-year-old, her red hair, glittering from the sun. And so…her journey began with a simple request of inclusion, one that would shake the foundations of our national pastime.

Okay Molly, when I blow the whistle for them to start, I’ll blow it again for you, but wait for the whistle, said the unsuspecting father, who had no idea that he had opened the genie in the bottle, the ramifications…history in the making.

The father had the boys simulate their hitting positions in the batters box, both righthand batters. When he blew the whistle his stopwatch would time their run, touching all three bases and stopping his watch when they returned to home plate. Today was the first day he allowed his daughter to participate in the drill and to his astonishment, she completed the distance in a faster time then her older brothers.

Maybe I screwed the times up, said the father under his breath. He had the boys and Molly, repeat the drill. Once again, his daughter beat her brother’s time, the father scratching his head.

Boys, play catch to loosen up your arms and let Molly join you, said Todd Sunshine, giving his left-handed glove to his daughter. He watched his three kids throwing the ball back and forth. Molly showed unusual strength and agility in the drill. His curiosity aroused, he asked the eight-year-old to go into the hitting cage.

Hey dad, I thought we were supposed to hit? Said Kyle, the ten-year-old, ruffled.

You will…in just a few minutes, the father said, as he approached the pitching machine, telling Molly to grab a bat and put on a helmet. The young left-hander, stood ready, her eyes speaking volumes in her determination, a characteristic that would become familiar in her rise to stardom. Pitch after pitch, Molly hit solid line drives, one flying over her father’s head, as he ducked, bewildered…that his daughter exposed a hidden talent, unbeknownst to him. She seemed to swing in a poetic rhythm, something not taught, but innate…and she was only eight-years-old. He told Molly to step out of the cage and had Kyle and Jake take their turn, avoiding to compare his son’s swings to their sister.

Boys, that’s it for tonight, the father said, anxious in having a discussion with his wife.

When Todd approached Jessica, she was rinsing the dinner dishes before placing them in the dishwasher. He wrapped his arms around her waist, asking if she had something to tell him regarding their daughter. She turned, her green eyes, flittering innocence, gazing into her husband’s blue eyes.

I guess you saw? The mother responded.

How long have you known? He whispered, avoiding the children from hearing their conversation. Jessica turned toward her husband, looking over his shoulder, directing the children to go to their rooms and do their homework.

Haven’t you noticed how Molly has starved for your attention, most of which has been with the boys? You’re always discussing baseball with Kyle and Jake, but never including her in the possibility of playing little league baseball, said his wife.

I never gave it a thought, Jessica. Have you been working with Molly in the batting cage? Her husband wanted to know.

Yes, whenever you and the boys were off to a game, Molly would ask to hit balls in the cage. I think it was her field of dreams, pretending that you were there, encouraging her every move. She’s a special kid, Todd. She knows that girls can play little league baseball and wonders why you haven’t encouraged the idea. She needs your attention.

Jessica was right and her husband felt remiss as a father. He walked upstairs to his daughter’s room, knocking on the closed door. He entered when hearing permission, Molly’s awareness of modesty, a factor with two brothers. The father put the eight-year-old on his lap and began the process of nurturing his daughter’s desire for inclusion.

Molly, I have an apology to make, began the father. His daughter turned towards her dad, perplexed. I never considered you playing little league baseball and that was wrong of me. I have to fix that, and promise to register you on a team as soon as possible.

Really, Daddy? Molly, taken aback by her father’s pronouncement, gently sliding from his lap, asking for reaffirmation of what was just said. After he reiterated his promise, she threw her arms around him and inexplicably, began to cry, the eight-year-old’s dream, beginning to take form.

Molly, why are you crying? I thought you’d be happy, said the father.

I didn’t think you loved me as much as Kyle and Jake, yelped the teary eyed youngster.

Oh no, Molly, how could you think that? The punch to his gut a surprising blow.

Well, you always pay more attention to them. You never come to my school races, mommy does, but you don’t. I sometimes feel…like you wish…that I was a boy too.

Molly, I’ve never felt that way. You’re my little button and I love you very much. Mom and dad have a lot to do, so we divide our time to make sure that all of you have our attention.

Well, I’d like some of that too, said Molly, bowing her head.

Some of what? Asked the concerned father.

Your attention to me and what I do.

Todd looked at his eight-year-old, somewhat astonished at her intuitiveness. Molly’s demeanor was starving for resolution of the perceived void in her young life. He wrapped his arms around his daughter, moisture swelling his eyes, promising she would get his full attention in the future, apologizing for his trespass. The eight-year-old had broadened the narrowness of his thinking and would be the start of a journey he could never have foretold, one that would change history.

CHAPTER 2

Four Years Later

"HEY JAKE, KYLE, wait up," one of their classmates commanded on Monday, March 5, 2007. After catching his breath, the chubby fourteen-year-old went on to explain that their sister had put her name on the list for tryouts of the boys junior high school baseball team. The brothers were astonished at the revelation, asking if the information was genuine or was their friend, a known prankster to classmates, playing a joke.

Go see the list, its outside the gym wall, said the bearer of the news. Both boys scurried back into school and made their way to the gym. There it was…Molly’s name on the list of candidates.

What’s she trying to do? Did you know about this? Kyle asked his brother.

Although twins, they were not identical, in fact, quite distinguishable. Kyle was taller than his brother and more muscular of the two. Their personalities also differed, the older Kyle by two minutes, more aggressive and vocal than Jake, who was demure and more responsible in approach.

No, Kyle, I didn’t know, but I’m sure there’s a good explanation, said Jake, placing his arm around his brother as a gesture of calmness. But Kyle wasted no time when entering the front door of their home, throwing his coat on the hallway bench and confronting his sister.

Molly, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Her brother asked, almost nose to nose to his sister. She didn’t pretend to deflect the question, anticipating that there would be a backlash in the first step to her historic journey. She explained her position, understanding that the process had begun and her family would be the first to declare their opposition.

Are you kidding me, you want to be a professional baseball player? Jake, I think we have a sister who’s lost all sense of reality. Do you realize that you’re making us the laughing stock of our friends, not to say the rest of the school, barked Kyle.

What’s the commotion out here? Asked their mother.

Go ahead Molly, tell mom what you did, Kyle demanded, raising his voice.

The mother looked toward her daughter who had turned twelve the past Saturday and started to shed her little girl image, her right of passage recently experienced. Molly was as tall as her brother Kyle, even though younger by two years, having her father’s genetic traits. She was pretty, her red hair in pigtails and her father’s blue eyes enhanced the look of innocence. The mother asked her three children to calm down and accompany her to the kitchen table. Jessica took a seat at the head of the eight-foot rectangular table, normally reserved for her husband. Molly sat to the right of her mother and her brothers to the left, Kyle wasting no time, mocking his sisters action and aspiration of being a professional baseball player. Jessica slid back in her chair, having no previous conversation with Molly regarding her intentions. Yet, she was perplexed, wanting to be supportive and at the same time, bring reality to her daughter’s intended journey. She would have preferred that her husband were at the table to engage in the discussion, but he wasn’t and the issue had to be addressed.

Now, Kyle, why are you so put off with your sister’s dream? The mother asked, knowing the root of concern, her son’s embarrassment at school and more to the point, the extensive attention Molly had been receiving from their father, Kyle feeling subordinated in his role.

It’s ridiculous, girls don’t play major league baseball and they probably aren’t allowed to… Kyle barked.

There’s no rule that says women are forbidden to play major league baseball, said the glib but naive, Molly.

Mom, you have to tell her not to tryout for the boys baseball team. She can play girls softball with the school team, but not baseball. Kyle snapped.

The front door closed, it was Todd Sunshine returning from a house closing with a bit more money in his pocket and in a very good mood. He hung up his coat, rubbing his hands back and forth, trying to remove the March chill.

Hello, anyone home? He shouted out, having no idea that he was about to find himself in the middle of a family debate as he entered the kitchen.

Hey, why the solemn faces? The father asked, noticing his daughter slumped in her chair with her arms folded and his son Kyle, shaking his head.

Jessica stood from the table, eyebrows raised, gesturing her husband to take a seat next to their daughter. His wife explained the issue at hand and the concern of their son, Kyle. His brother Jake was undisturbed by his sisters pronouncement, considering it an impossible dream and pointless to take an aggressive stance.

Todd turned to his daughter, smiled, then said that he was aware of Molly’s intentions and fully supported her decision. His wife looked surprised, as did her sons.

Why Dad? Kyle asked, his father didn’t immediately respond…then he did.

Boys, each of us have a dream of being or doing something that will make an imprint in our lives. It may be beyond our reach, but hope is the journey in trying to make it happen. Whose to say that each of you can’t dream of something beautiful and inspiring? Now, I admit, Molly wanting to be the first woman professional baseball player is seemingly impossible, but your mom and I would be cruel to dismiss or discourage any of your goals. Now time has a way of telling if that vision is attainable, and when you realize it’s not going to happen, you move onto the next chapter in your life.

Dad, you know the kind of flack Jake and I will be getting from the guys in school?

I do Kyle, but I expect that you and your brother will take the high road.

What do you mean? His son demanded.

Why don’t you do the unexpected and support your sister, rather than joining the opposition she’s sure to encounter? Said the father.

Why are you doing this with Molly? You’ve never asked us if we wanted to be professional baseball players, said the angry, Kyle.

Your sister stated her intentions, you and your brother, never have. I’m not doing anything different with Molly than I do with the both of you. Your mom and I will always support you guys. Jake, you’ve been silent on this, care to share your thoughts? Asked the father.

Well, I kinda understand Kyle’s concerns about school, but I also can see your point regarding a persons dream. I don’t want to be a professional baseball player and I believe Molly, really does. She’s my sister and I love her, but I don’t think she understands how much trouble will be coming her way. But, if that’s what she’s determined to do, then I’ll do my best to support her, said the compromising, Jake.

Molly, you’re going to compete against seventh, eighth and ninth graders in order to make the baseball team, that includes Jake and me. How would you feel if you were responsible in eliminating one of us? Kyle snapped.

You both made the team when you were seventh graders and were starters for the past two years. As ninth graders this year, I don’t think the coach wants to lose his shortstop and second basemen, besides, I’m trying out for the outfield. Molly insisted.

Look, Kyle, all I ask is that you treat me as another person coming out for the team and let me worry about what people say. It’s 2007, you and Jake will be playing for the high school team next year as tenth graders. I’ll be in junior high for another three years, so it’s only this year we could be together and I think that would be cool, his sister justified.

Get your math straight, when we’re seniors you’ll be in the tenth grade and if you made the team…that’s a big if…it means playing with us again, and that’s not cool, said the disgruntled, Kyle.

It would be to me, and I will make the team…just watch me, barked the determined, twelve-year-old.

Kyle flailed his arm, in a gesture of discontent. But the issue was more than his sister attempting to play on the boys baseball team. He had witnessed her burgeoning talents and felt threatened by them. Why her and not him was his inner conflict. A girl isn’t supposed to be better. It was a challenge to his self-worth and feared the fallout from friends and teammates.

The father and mother remained silent while the conversation of their children continued, and although contentious, they remained civilized. Kyle continued to be the most vocal in his position. The discussion ended with the issue unresolved, the siblings going their separate ways, Molly… undaunted in her quest.

Jessica wanted to know when her husband was aware of Molly’s ambition, curious why he hadn’t made mention of it beforehand. He said their daughter picked up on the idea last year when he was hitting fly balls to her and showed remarkable judgment, the father saying she looked like a major leaguer, using the expression as a compliment. When she demonstrated her prowess in the batting cage, again, the father lauded her, using the same expression as before, Molly, taking it to heart.

Jessica, I didn’t give it serious thought. It was a simple reaction to a father’s series of complimentary remarks. When she turned twelve last week, she asked to have a discussion with me, then revealing her intentions. At first, my reaction was to dismiss it as a child’s fantasy, then realizing her intent was more then a passing whim. She went on…asking me to imagine what it would be like for her to be the first woman in professional baseball. You had to see the gleam and determination in her eyes. I came to realize that our daughter was serious in her pronouncement. I couldn’t discourage her enthusiasm.

Todd, what if the Williamsport school officials refuse to let her tryout for the team. It would break Molly’s heart, asked Jessica.

I’ve thought about that. I had a preemptive meeting with Don Schilling, the District Superintendent of Schools. If you remember, we sold him and his wife their home three years ago. Not only did he say it was within the school rules, but indicated they’re several girls playing on boys baseball teams throughout the country. He thought it refreshing and if Molly were up to the challenge, it would encourage others to follow. He couldn’t swear her acceptance by the male coaches, who’ve had to share the athletic facilities of the school with their female counterparts under the Title IX rules of 1972, men and women mandated to have equal access if they received federal funds.

When are the tryouts? Asked Jessica.

In two weeks and probably in the gym because of weather, said Todd.

What can they do in a gym? His wife wanted to know.

They can test their speed, which Molly will excel, being the fastest girl in the seventh grade. Those red ribbons for winning her school races will come in handy. They have an indoor hitting cage and can have ground balls as well as fly balls hit to them. It will eliminate some candidates immediately and others when they practice outdoors. The season doesn’t start until April. They usually play a ten game schedule, the varsity team plays seventeen games.

Todd, I wish I can say it’s the right thing for Molly, but I have my reservations. She’s going to be subjected to ridicule from those she considered friends and I fear the boys support will wane, creating a competition that might not be healthy.

I understand Jessica, but I see the possibility of something else happening. Our daughter has a special talent and if I can harness it…we’re going to see a transformation that could be astounding, said her husband.

You believe she’s that good? Asked Jessica.

Since playing little league baseball for the past two years, she’s been the best player on the team. She can hit, run, throw and field better than anyone in her age group. I have no doubt she’ll impress Jack Fryer, the baseball coach at Williamsport Junior High. My real concern is whether she’ll hold up to the ribbing from both the boys on the team and the girls in her class, it could be downright vicious, said the proud, but concerned father.

Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to speak with Coach Fryer?

No, Jessica, he’s aware that eyes will be on him from school officials. This is a small town and controversy regarding unfair treatment to Molly, isn’t something to be encouraged. I trust that her talent will appeal to a coach who wants to win games, said her husband.

Tuesday morning, Molly and her brothers were eating breakfast and the silence was deafening. Kyle was still smarting, expecting to be approached by team members as well as low level intellectuals, many itching to find a cause to distract their attention from the classroom.

Would someone say something, said their frustrated mother.

Hey, Molly, we have your back. Jake said, breaking the ice, his sister turning to her brother, a veil smile acknowledging his assurance.

Who’s going to have our back? Kyle barked.

What’s that supposed to mean? Asked Molly, slamming her spoon on the kitchen table.

You seem to forget or maybe don’t care, it’s not only the seventh, eighth and ninth graders we have to contend with, but also the tenth, eleventh and twelfth graders in the same school, guys who Jake and I will soon be competing against for a spot on the varsity team. One guy in particular, Rocky Mangrow is going to be a real problem. He’s a junior and the hotshot of the varsity team. He’s downright mean and quite big, nobody messes with him, suggested Kyle.

I’m not asking you to be my bodyguard, Kyle, I can handle myself. Molly sneered.

You just don’t get it, Kyle snorted, leaving the table miffed, Jake, placing his hand on Molly’s shoulder before following his brother to the bus stop.

Jessica kissed her daughter and told her to be careful, watching her leave for the bus stop, then clearing the kitchen table, her husband leaving for the office earlier.

The bus came to a stop, the three siblings entering, Kyle leading the way. As he looked for seats, his worse nightmare, Rocky Mangrow was sitting in the back row with a grin from ear-to-ear.

Hey, Molly Sunshine, I hear you wanna play with the boys. Are you some kind of dyke? The bully shouted out.

So it began, the challenge by those who rejected the crossover to their guarded domain, one that hadn’t been addressed in the Williamsport school district to date. Molly stared at the stocky, six-foot catcher. He was dressed in jeans and a school monogramed sweatshirt, the antagonizer clicking his lips in mockery. The three siblings took seats, each separated and in the mid-section of the bus.

Molly girl, oh, sorry, hey big guy, why don’t you come back here. We’ll take measurements to see what grows between those legs, commanded the cocky junior, triggering laughter from the other riders…except, Molly. She stood and then replied. Mangrow, or is it…I wish they could grow? From what I hear, the size of your peanuts and private are still in the nursery stage. Kyle and Jake, stunned by their sisters remark, laughter erupting throughout the bus.

Okay, knock it off, demanded the driver. He stopped the bus, threatening to take names and report them to the principal. The brothers suspected that it wasn’t the end of it with Rocky. As they departed the bus, Kyle asked his sister why she had to push the envelope.

I’m not afraid of the jerk, she responded, Kyle letting her know that she didn’t understand the nature of the beast and they could expect some sort of retribution.

Molly was aware of her brother’s concern and remembered what her father had once said at a family dinner when referring to war. That the battle should be won before it started through preemptive planning. She had a plan…

CHAPTER 3

The Tryout

TRYOUTS FOR THE freshman baseball team was after school in the gymnasium on Monday, March 12. Coach Jack Fryer, called all of the candidates to the center of the gym. The forty-two-year-old coach, explained to the fifty-two candidates, that the team would consist of only fourteen players. Eighth and ninth graders who played on the team last year, numbering ten, would have a distinct advantage based upon his knowledge of their skills. But he also said, If anyone proved to be more capable that no position was guaranteed.

Fryer instructed the candidates to take a number from a table against the gym wall and have another person pin it to the back of their shirt. They were to tell him their number and the position for which they were trying out so he could affix it to his clipboard. The coach told them that the list of players who were to report the following day would be posted on the wall outside the gym entrance the next morning.

Jake pinned the numbered paper on the back of his sisters’ sweatshirt, the coach blowing his whistle, asking the eager candidates to line up in columns of four and on his command, sprint from one end of the gym to the other. Fryer had no special words for Molly, not wanting to fuel an already odd situation, but noticed she excelled in every drill demanded by the coach.

The next morning, Molly was prepared when she and her brothers entered the bus. But much to her chagrin and to the relief of her brothers, Rocky wasn’t there. When arriving at school, she immediately went to the gym, her two brothers close behind. There it was on the wall. A large group crowded around the list. Some