Frozen in Time

He was a tense, short, stocky man with a crewcut and glasses propped on a long nose. His mind was talon sharp and jammed with scientific facts from his years wandering the globe, first in Antarctica and later in Greenland, taking seismographic readings as he went. But on this August day in 1975, Edward Bradley, S.J., was focused on the flying trip that lay ahead of him and a Jesuit cohort. It would be his chance to soar through the vastness of the Grand Canyon, take in the geological strata of this American icon and ponder his lot in life—Jesuit priest, physics professor, seismologist. Explorer. Not a bad life at all.

With a Winston dangling from his thin lips and his seat belt dangling by the door, Bradley eased his car from the parking lot of the Grand Canyon Village Motel he had shared with fellow professor William Topmoeller, S.J., and headed for their rendezvous with the pilot. At the same time, a woman in a station wagon towing a trailer was barreling down the road, heading north.

When Topmoeller pointed out the spot where they were to meet the pilot on the other side of the road, Bradley whipped the car left, sending it hurtling eastward and directly into the path of the oncoming station wagon.

“Ed, look out,” Topmoeller screamed. He pushed himself against the back of his seat, bracing for the inevitable impact. “I absolve you, Ed,” he shouted as the sounds of scraping metal, shattering glass and scrunching gravel filled the air. The impact sent the car spinning. Topmoeller’s collar bone snapped with the impact. Bradley’s head slammed hard on the  window, leaving him senseless.

Topmoeller recovered from his injuries, but for two weeks, Bradley lay in a coma in a Phoenix hospital, unaware of what happened. As he slowly regained consciousness, his brother, Bill, brought him back to Good Samaritan Hospital in Cincinnati, where neurologists did what they could, trying to undo the damage and restore the capacity that once was. But it was too late. He would eventually regain his motor abilities—he could talk and walked with effort—but much of the knowledge he’d spent a lifetime learning was gone.

For 18 years, Bradley had been one of the University’s most ambitious and adventurous Jesuit scientists, operating a state-of-the-art seismology station and challenging students in the classroom, all the while regaling everyone with stories of his adventures—particularly of his trip to Antarctica and his explorations at the bottom of the world.

“He lived for 25 years after that horrible accident, and he was half a man, and it’s a pity,” says his brother, Bill. “He was a really intelligent scientist.”

He had to give up driving, and Topmoeller and the other Jesuits had to sneak off to play bridge without him because he could no longer follow the game. At Xavier, he was relieved—reluctantly—of his teaching duties and his beloved seismograph station. With no other seismographers on staff, the station in Milford, Ohio, was shut down and relocated to John Carroll University in Cleveland. Until his death in 1996, his life was shrunk to a litany of vague memories and visits with his doting sister on Sundays, followed by years of existence in the Jesuit retirement center in Clarkston, Mich.

Occasionally, though, his spark would return, specifically when someone brought up his trip to Antarctica—a trip that in many ways defined who he was and briefly made him famous.

It was November 1957 when Bradley set out on a journey across the frigid Atlantic seas to study and live in the harsh conditions of the world’s most extreme continent. There, he wrote letters and compiled data while taking hundreds of pictures of a world most never see—items that briefly brightened the darkened last years of his life and today serve as a lifeline to his past.

Now tucked away in the University’s library archives, his letters and other documents tell of a different time, when technology was new and the world was hungry for scientific knowledge. Though the Cold War was under way, science was a global common ground, and it was in the late 1950s that the world’s nations set aside their differences and agreed to collaborate on an unprecedented series of fact-gathering expeditions known as the International Geophysical Year.

The effort by 67 countries to participate in these coordinated observations of earth and space actually spanned three years and incorporated studies of cosmic radiation, geomagnetism, glaciology, seismology, the atmosphere and solar activity. The IGY, as it was called, was overseen by an independent group of international scientific unions.

The adventure for Bradley began a month after the Soviets beat the U.S. into space by sending a small satellite sailing into orbit. As the beeping Sputnik circled overhead, Bradley and nine other scientists aboard the U.S.S. Wyandot steamed southward, unaware of the scientific, cultural and political significance of the satellite arcing above. The scientists were focused only on what lay ahead for them: a year of unparalleled research at the bottom of the world. They were to probe a hostile, unexplored, ice-covered land mass and gather an unprecedented volume of data about the earth.

Bradley, then a 34-year-old seismologist recently assigned to teach physics at Xavier, filled his letters home with details of his days at sea—crossing the Equator, weathering a storm, the falling temperatures, the sea life and his first sighting of an iceberg.

“This morning we sighted some whales, but by the time I was ready to get a picture of them, they were too far away,” he wrote on Jan. 1. “We spotted our first iceberg last night and there is one on the horizon.”

Two days later, he wrote: “The days now are 24 hours long but almost completely overcast. For the last two days, icebergs were so common that I didn’t even bother going out on deck to look at them. Today, though, we haven’t seen any bergs, but sea ice is beginning to appear, an indication that the ice pack may not be very far off…. We have been travelling about 300 miles a day since we left Capetown and the only life we have seen has been birds and a school of whales.”

Following a U.S. Coast Guard ice cutter through the ice pack, they put in on Jan. 8 at Halley Bay on the northwest coast of Antarctica. Bradley’s first outing on the ice was to snap shots of the Emperor penguins, which soon became his favorite subjects.

“They have a rookery right where our boats put in and it was quite a sight to see several hundred men chasing penguins all over the ice. We caught four of them and brought them on board. We are going to take them down to the station with us and keep them as pets.”

As Bradley was moving into Ellsworth Station, John Behrendt was moving out. Bradley was replacing Behrendt as chief seismologist at Ellsworth, and the two met briefly as their paths crossed. Behrendt, now a research scientist at the University of Colorado who recently published a book about his Antarctic experiences, spent 1957 with the team that built the Ellsworth station and made the first traverses across the Filchner Ice Shelf.

“It was unexplored when we went,” Behrendt says. “We didn’t know anything about the ice shelf or the islands. No one had been there before. And Bradley and his  team were the first people to see those areas. We had to be explorers as well as geophysicists.”

Much of today’s knowledge of earth and space is built on what was learned during those years. The information contributed to understanding weather conditions globally, including the knowledge that as global warming continues, the potential rise in sea level from melting Antarctic ice could flood coastal cities under up to 20 feet of water.

The 5,000 scientists and support personnel who poured over the land from 1957 to 1958 also opened up the rarely visited continent to the world. Their work led to the historic Antarctic Treaty of 1961. Today, the 44 nations that abide by the treaty’s policies conduct research under strict environmental standards to learn about and protect a continent that has no ownership.

The decision to let Bradley be one of those early scientists, however, didn’t come easily. The Jesuits, known for their expertise in seismology, contributed three seismologists to the project. Bradley was still studying for his master’s degree in physics, and his leaving meant he would not only have to delay his studies, but it also meant Xavier would have to find a replacement. In the end, the benefits of publicity and renown for the order, the Church and the University outweighed the negatives, and Bradley found himself heading southward.

Bradley’s pictures reveal the challenges, the wonder—and the dangers—of life in the Antarctic. Family, friends and former students remember his slide shows and his stories. To them, he was a devoted Jesuit who adored celebrating Mass and may have loved  the seismology station at Milford more than teaching. He could be a bit gruff and bristly when challenged—he had no trouble ignoring a Jesuit directive to stop smoking. He craved adventure and capturing it on film. He once tried to return to Antarctica, but his superiors said no, so he threw himself into teaching and seismology.

But the explorer within him couldn’t resist digging out his slides, which gained him some renown when National Geographic ran three of them in the October 1959 issue. One is a rare shot of the red Aurora Australis lights that bathed the Antarctic nights—the first such photo ever taken. The others are of the yawning crevasses that threatened to swallow the men and their machines.

One of his favorite slides, says Theodore Thepe, S.J., professor emeritus of chemistry and one of Bradley’s closest friends, was of a penguin he shot with a zoom lens. Only when he got the slide processed did he realize he had a perfect shot of a urinating bird. Later, when Thepe would visit Bradley at the retirement center, they’d share a laugh about the peeing penguin. Bradley’s memory may have been shot, says Thepe, but he always knew he’d been to Antarctica.

“It’s difficult to describe Antarctica,” Bradley told a Cincinnati newspaper in 1959. “You’re impressed by the size, by the ice that goes on and on, by the fact that you can be 500 miles from any living thing besides yourself and your party.”

Life in the Antarctic was hard. When the sun set for the last time on April 23, easing the station into four months of winter with its 50-below zero temperatures, Bradley filled his time with work and odd jobs. He was the station’s barber, ham radio operator and farmer. He grew vegetables—radishes, lettuce, peas and carrots—in soil from the States. And he led Mass almost daily.

But in the spring, with temperatures rising toward an average summertime 24 degrees, he and his team of 11 men set out for a three-month journey that took them to the center of the continent, traversing slowly in their Sno-Cats and stopping every 20 miles to make a sounding. Bradley would drill a hole in the ice, insert dynamite and use his portable seismograph to record the time it took the sound waves from the explosion to travel through the ice, bounce off the solid ground below and return to the surface. The greatest depth he recorded was 12,000 feet.

By January 1959, after traversing 1,250 miles in 67 days, Bradley’s party reached Byrd Station, ready for the trip home to begin analyzing their data. Though he never returned to the land of ice, his legacy remains in the knowledge gained from the work he completed. But Bradley had something else as well. As a result of his work, his team discovered a mountain range under the ice with peaks, known as nunataks, more than 7,000 feet high. The highest peak is named the Bradley Nunatak. It’s a fitting tribute to the man—and the mind—who found it.

Karen Kase

Bachelor of Science in sport management, 1999 | Director of public relations, Charlotte Sting, Women’s National Basketball Association, Charlotte, N.C.

Glory Days Kase played goalkeeper for the women’s soccer team at Xavier. Her teams advanced to the Atlantic 10 Tournament three times and won the A-10 Tournament in 1998, advancing to the NCAA Tournament for the first time in school history.

Fast Friends “There were seven seniors on the team who came up through the program,” she says. “The best part is we are all still close friends, even though we’re scattered around the country.”

Junior Jobs Kase worked in the University’s sports information office as a student and then earned an internship with the Pacific 10 Conference in California. There, she worked basketball and football games at the University of California at Berkeley, volleyball games at Stanford University and even National Basketball Association games with the Golden State Warriors.

Ladder Climbing After graduating, she spent two years working for the Phoenix Suns of the N.B.A. and the Phoenix Mercury of the Women’s National Basketball Association before accepting a job in the front office of the N.B.A.’s Cleveland Cavaliers. Last year, she began working with the W.N.B.A.’s Charlotte Sting as well as the parent company of the city’s expansion N.B.A. team. She oversees all public relations and community relations efforts of the Sting.

Hoop Dreamin’ “I love basketball, so my job is a perfect situation for me. I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else at this point in my career. It’s a lot of long hours and making sure a lot of different people are happy, but it’s fun and there are perks as well. I’ve flown on private team planes, traveled to lots of different cities, and interviewed stars like Chris Webber, Carlos Boozer and Cynthia Cooper.”

Grand Experience She’s also flown in a helicopter to the bottom of the Grand Canyon to work with a W.N.B.A. basketball clinic on a Native American reservation. “These people—the Hava’ Supai Tribe—are the only people to reside in the Grand Canyon year-round.”

Once and Future Loyalties “I want to continue what I’m doing in Charlotte for as long as I possibly can, keep rooting against U.C. and keep having fun.”

Jerry Goodwin

Bachelor of Arts in political science, 1985 | Senior partner with Goodwin & Grant, an advertising, marketing and public relations firm in Tulsa, Okla.; director of the Metropolitan Tulsa Urban League; chair of the national diversity council of the American Red Cross in Washington, D.C.; adjunct instructor in advertising and public relations at Tulsa Community College.

Distinguishing Marks Goodwin served as student body president during his senior year at the University and received the Francis J. Finn, S.J., Award for outstanding service both on campus and in the community.

Committed to Service Today, much of Goodwin’s work centers on creating understanding among people of different backgrounds. His guiding philosophy came from his paternal grandmother, who liked to say, “Service is the room and board that we pay for our life on earth.” He also credits his time at the University with shaping his outlook. “The Jesuit tradition of community service was a driving force in what I do today,” he says.

Getting Started Goodwin began his career working for The Oklahoma Eagle, a family-owned enterprise that’s the oldest African-American newspaper in the state. There, he worked in all facets of the business and created a magazine promoting dialogue and discussion regarding diversity. He left the paper four years ago to start Goodwin & Grant, but remains a consultant.

High Point Goodwin has amassed an impressive list of local and national chairmanships and awards and has been active in political campaigns for both major parties. He cites his 13-year association with the American Red Cross, though, as “one of the greatest enjoyments” of his career. The national diversity council, which he chairs, is charged with giving Red Cross workers the training and materials they need to sensitively serve various cultural groups and make certain they have easy access to all of the services available in any given situation.

Looking Forward “I’m 40 years old, and I’m now moving on to the other half of my life,” Goodwin says. “I have a grandmother who’s sharp as a tack and will celebrate her 100th birthday in July. I only hope that I have that longevity and can look back and see that I made a difference.”

Future Decisions Given his wide range of experience, some have suggested that elected office is a logical next step. Goodwin isn’t sure he agrees. “I don’t need to have bricks thrown at me,” he says. “I think I can do more good out of the spotlight.”

Jack Miles

Bachelor of Literature degree, 1964; Bachelor’s in philosophy, Pontifical Gregorian University, Rome, 1966; Ph.D. in Hebrew Bible, Harvard University, 1971 | Jesuit seminarian, 1960-1970; Pulitzer Prize winner in 1996 for God: A Biography .

Prize Surprise In 1996, Miles became the only Xavier graduate to be awarded a Pulitzer Prize, winning for his book, God: A Biography. “I could not imagine winning in biography for a character whose existence is in question. So I was quite astounded to win.”

Page Two Miles followed his God biography with a critically acclaimed sequel,Christ: A Crisis in the Life of God.

Good Fellows Miles’ awards also include a Guggenheim Fellowship in 1990 and a $500,000 MacArthur Fellowship in 2002.

Paths Taken Miles’ résumé includes work as an author, college professor, book editor and member of the Los Angeles Times’ editorial board. He’s now the senior advisor to the president of the J. Paul Getty Trust in Los Angeles.

First Steps Miles’ first career steps led him toward the priesthood. He entered the Society of Jesus, turning down a full-ride college scholarship and, he thought, his dream of becoming a journalist.

Quick Study As a Jesuit-in-training at Xavier’s Milford Novitiate, Miles’ talent for foreign language led his superiors to request that he seek a Ph.D. in Hebrew Bible at Harvard University. In preparation, he spent one year studying Hebrew at Hebrew University in Jerusalem.

Changing Heart He left the seminary in 1970 after realizing he was drawn to the priesthood not by faith, but by fraternity and intellectuality.

Coming Home He became reacquainted with the Bible in the late 1980s when he attended a performance of J.S. Bach’s “St. Matthew’s Passion” and was struck by the realization that the story reveals God’s decision to sacrifice himself. “What extreme pressure had been brought to bear upon God that he had undergone so unthinkable a transformation, losing what had for centuries seemed the very core of his identity? My answer to this question took years to formulate and entailed reconceiving the plot of the Bible in a new and somewhat disturbing way.”

Interviewing God As God’s biographer, Miles delves into the biblical metaphor of divine warfare by examining the character of God as a literary figure. “I do not write as an unbeliever. But I write with a deliberate and quite conscious detachment from belief. I write first for a readership that reads the Bible as a secular classic.”

 

 

For more on Jack Miles, visit his web site.

Booked for Life

What do a wealthy oil baron, a generous Jesuit priest and a prolific economics professor have in common? Starting this spring, they share the official name of the University’s bookstore. The Besse Family Bookstore was permanently engraved on the store this spring following a generous donation from Nicholas A. Besse, S.J., the Jesuit priest who died last June and willed the University a gift in the name of his late brother, Clifford Besse, S.J., a fellow Jesuit and former professor and author.

Nicholas inherited the money from his uncle, Bill Moran, a Texas oil man who also gave money regularly to Bellarmine Chapel. After Nicholas died, his nephews, Bob and Ed Besse, toured campus to decide what naming opportunity to hang the Besse hat on. When they came to the bookstore, “It just hit me,” Bob says. “The day before, I’d opened the book written by my uncle and saw it was copyrighted by the Xavier University bookstore, and I thought, here’s the omen. God put us on the front of the bookstore.”

Their gift will keep on giving, too —it includes shares of an oil well that will pay dividends each year.

Changing Dialogue

James Buchanan is on the phone. His voice pours quietly into the sunlit hallway outside his second-floor office in Hinkle Hall. Buchanan waves an acknowledgement, takes a few minutes to wind up the conversation and opens the door wide. The office is small, the lighting low and the furnishings sparse and neutral—adjectives that stand in stark contrast to Buchanan’s plans.

In April, Buchanan was named director of the Brueggeman Center for Interreligious Dialogue, taking the place of the retiring Joseph Bracken, S.J. For the next hour he describes his vision for the center—expanded programs, interdisciplinary ideas aimed at involving all facets of the University community, efforts to reach out into the community at large, fundraising. The message is clear: These are exciting times for the 10-year-old center, which honors the memory of Edward B. Brueggeman, S.J., a former chairman of the University’s department of theology and a leading proponent for interfaith cooperation.

To start with, the center will soon have, well, a center. Although it’s been in existence since 1993—it was named for Brueggeman in 1996, a year after his death—the center has never had a physical home. That will change this fall when the center takes up residence in the former home of the late professor emeritus Joseph Link. Located at the far end of the residential mall between the Manor House and the Jesuit residence, the Tudor-style house is currently under renovation and should be ready sometime early in the fall semester, Buchanan says. The downstairs will be used for a library, reading room and offices. The upstairs is being converted into an apartment to house the Brueggeman chair—a visiting scholar from one of the non-Christian religious traditions.

The center’s increased visibility comes with an expanded mission and a new name—The Edward B. Brueggeman Center for Dialogue.

“The focus of the center will always be issues of social and environmental justice, global responsibilities and interreligious dialogue,” says Buchanan, who came to the University three years ago as Besl family chair in the Ethics/ Religion and Society programs. “The point of changing the name is not to change the mission, but the term ‘interreligious’ limited the dialogue partners. What we want to do is enhance the mission and the constituency of the center.”

Broadening the constituency is critical if the center is to grow and flourish. Inviting the community at large to become a stakeholder not only increases the center’s stature and relevance, but also provides broader avenues for funding. Much of the original endowment to support the visiting scholar was pieced together by Brueggeman himself from donations over a 14-year period, says department of theology chair William Madges. More recently, additional funding has come from a variety of sources, including what Buchanan describes as “a generous contribution” from the Julia Winter Cohen Bequest that will be used to support programming. And over the next several years, Buchanan plans to take the center’s message on the road, meeting with donors nationwide in an attempt to increase the endowment.

He also hopes to draw co-sponsors for various events from both the University and the community at large. As a model, he points to a town hall meeting this spring in which the center and other University entities such as the Center for Business Ethics and Corporate Responsibility, the Ethics/Religion and Society program and the Community Building Collaborative served as co-sponsors with community sources.

The added resources will help the center present a broad swath of programming that ranges from large public gatherings, such as the town hall meetings, to very specific, narrowly focused academic projects. Buchanan also hopes to set yearly themes that involve as many aspects of the University community as possible. And finally, he’d like to have a group of fellows connected to the center, including faculty fellows drawn from within the University, an external faculty fellow whose expertise falls in line with the year’s theme, four or five student fellows and a non-profit fellow.

In the end, he says, all of this activity leads back to helping the center better fulfill its original mission.

“What we want to do,” he says, “is to create critical conversations about the important issues of the day that draw to the table people who don’t normally come to the table together.”

Triple Crown

Amy Waugh finished her college career with a nice touch. After setting the school record with 107 three-point baskets and leading the nation with 3.6 threes per game, Waugh participated in the 15th annual ESPN three-point shooting championship during the NCAA Final Four in New Orleans—and won. The senior guard defeated seven other women to claim the female crown, and then won the battle of the sexes over men’s champion Darnell Archey of Butler University, 17-14.

High Praise Freshman basketball player Tara Boothe was named Atlantic 10 Conference women’s basketball rookie of the year. Boothe finished the season sixth in the league in both scoring and rebounding and won the rookie of the week honor 11 times, including the last nine weeks straight. She is just the second women’s basketball player to win the award, along with Waugh.

Spike Support

Attendance for the University’s women’s basketball and volleyball teams is spiking upward. Since moving to the Cintas Center three years ago, attendance for the two teams has more than doubled. And it’s proving to be a big help.

“Its intimidating for the other team,” says volleyball coach Floyd Deaton. “You come into a nice arena and you have to face the biggest crowds in the A-10. It gets to the point where opposing coaches complain. I don’t mind that.”

It’s also helped spur unprecedented success. The volleyball team is 32-3 in games in the Cintas Center. The basketball team is 35-7 at home, and has packed as many as 6,800 people into the stands.

The teams are also getting a little help from the men’s basketball program. Associate athletic director for marketing Greg Amodio says the success of men’s basketball—and the increased revenue it generates from season ticket sales and corporate partnerships—allows the University to spend more money promoting its other teams.

Second Shot

For the fourth time in four years, the rifle team shot its way to a National Collegiate Athletic Association trophy. The team finished second in this year’s NCAA Championship at West Point, N.Y., in mid-March, playing bridesmaid once again to the University of Alaska-Fairbanks, which has won the Championship for the last five years. Xavier’s team placed second in 2000, fourth in 2001 and third in 2002.

Going Pro

Bobby Bevel and Matt Watson aren’t yet household names. But their successes to date could turn golden—not only for them, but for the University’s baseball program as well. While other members of the University’s teams have made the leap from college ball into the professional ranks, Bevel, a pitcher with the Colorado Rockies’ organization, and Watson, an outfielder in the New York Mets’ farm system, have risen furthest. The pair play at the AAA level, one step below the majors.

“I don’t know of anyone from the University who has gotten as close to the big leagues as these two guys,” says head baseball coach John Morrey. “They’re both just a phone call away.”

And as if to keep the pressure on them, a third University product, pitcher Kevin Cave, was drafted by the Florida Marlins in 2001 and is progressing up the minor league ladder. Two other recent players—Mike Scuglik, a former pitcher who played in the Texas Rangers’ organization from 1999-2000, and Lou Witte, a pitcher who played in the New York Yankees’ organization from 1999-2001—have also been drafted and played professionally. All of which reflects well on a Musketeer baseball program that has been on the upswing for the past decade—a decade that’s seen the University make a major commitment to the sport in terms of facilities, staff and scholarships.

The result, Morrey says, is that the team now draws the attention of more good players. And those players get to test themselves against competition like Purdue University, Indiana State University, the University of Pittsburgh, the University of Louisville and Western Michigan University—teams that weren’t on the schedule 10 years ago. This kind of competition has a real impact on the development of young players.

“You’re forced to grow up in a hurry,” Morrey says. “The young players really need to focus in on what they can do to improve their skills so that they’re able to compete at a higher level as the year progresses. It’s a big change coming in from high school.”

And for the University, no players exemplify the ideal of competing at a higher level more than Bevel, Watson and Cave. Bevel, who graduated in 1995, was the first of the three to hit the minors. He currently plays for the Colorado Springs Sky Sox of the Pacific Coast League.

“Bobby has persevered,” Morrey says. “He’s been released three times and he keeps fighting back. He graduated in 1995 and was signed by Colorado. He worked his way up from rookie ball to AAA. He went to Seattle and then to St. Louis and now he’s back in Colorado. He’s been playing a long time, and he’s hung in there. If he gets a break, hopefully he can get up there and show them what he can do.”

In terms of numbers, there’s little question that Watson has had the most impressive start. The left-handed hitting, right-handed throwing outfielder played for the University from 1997 to 1999 and was originally drafted by the Montreal Expos. In his first year, playing for the Vermont Expos, he lit up opposing pitchers, setting the New York-Penn League single-season record for most hits with 108.

“There’s been a hundred major leaguers in that league, and he set the record,” Morrey says.

Injuries sidelined Watson for much of his second season, but he came back in 2001 to be the Expos’ organizational player of the year. Last year during the season he was traded from the Expos to the Mets and was sent to their AA team in Binghamton, N.Y., where he hit .286 and was advanced to the AAA Norfolk Tides of the International League, where he is now.

Just two seasons ago, the right-handed Cave could be found pitching at Hayden Field. He was drafted in 2001 by the Florida Marlins in the 17th round and making what Morrey calls normal progress. He played in the New York-Penn League in 2001, moving to the Class A Midwest League for the Kane County (Ill.) Cougars last year and is now in the upper level of Class A ball with the Jupiter Hammerheads in the Florida State League.

“He’s moved up a level a year, and that’s good,” says Morrey. “By anyone’s standards, all three of these guys are doing very well.”

By Morrey’s standards, that’s good news for the future of Xavier baseball.

“It’s great because it lets other future prospects see that they can come here and get their education as well as achieve their goal of getting into professional baseball.”