Titus Cunningham Biography

[thadthrasher 1,715]

Titus Cunningham - The Boy from the Holler

 

 

When people talk with Titus Cunningham for the first time, they often walk away with a bit of a puzzled look. It's not because Cunningham is strange, nor is he at all peculiar. He's your average young man from the hollers of West Virginia. Sure, he has a big build and quickly catches most eyes when he walks into a room, but beyond that, there isn't anything special about Cunningham. What tends to draw a puzzled look from most folks though is the fact that Cunningham plays ice hockey. That may not seem strange to you, but to his fellow West Virginians, it's practically unheard of.

 

Cunningham grew up deep in the hollers of the West Virginia wilderness. Where he comes from life is slow, simple, but often difficult. His hometown had no red lights but did have a small post office, a grocery store that looked more like a vegetable stand with a few snacks, and miles of forested road that led into and out of the holler. Needless to say, this was not the town where the young men grew up learning about ice hockey. Which, of course, is what leads many to look at Cunningham with a hint of puzzlement and perplexion, "How in the world did you end up playing hockey?"

 

After Titus turned 16 and got his license, though that never stopped him from driving around the holler since he was 12, he took the old truck he bought off one of the townsfolk and decided to drive up to Columbus, OH to "see what the city was like." Of course, he was utterly surprised at the business of the city and found himself quickly lost. Turn after turn came and gone, and finally, he ended up driving right next to the Nationwide Arena, and that was the first time he saw this sport of hockey. He found a spot, bought a ticket, and quickly found himself in the stands for his first-ever hockey game. This was a move that would change his life.

 

Titus' parents were completely blown away. First, they were livid that he'd left the state, let alone the holler without letting them know what he was up to. But, to then come back and ramble on and on about "hockey," and "pucks," it was too much. The only saving grace for Titus was when he explained that when problems arose on the ice they settled it the old-fashioned way, with fists. His father always wanted to see Titus take a liking to sports, especially football, so this would have to do. The problem though was that there was no hockey anywhere near Titus. Yet, this didn't stop the young 16-year-old from trying. He devoted any free moment he had to getting into even better shape, learning the rules and rhythm of hockey on the family's sometimes working computer, and driving clear up to Columbus on the weekends to try his hand at ice hockey. 

 

It was during one of the many trips to Columbus that Titus met a retired Victory Hockey League player, Napolean Dynamite. Dynamite had hung up his skates a few years before this initial meeting and took up coaching as a way to stave off his boredom. At one of the practices that Dynamite led, he noticed that Titus carried a unique personality and play style. Cunningham was no-nonsense, hyper-focused on his performance, and never shied away from asking for pointers from others. Due to his size, and his personality, he was a natural defenseman. No one seemed to be able to make their way around him, and the kid could read passes like a picture book. He was intelligent with cycling the puck, keeping it in the offensive zone, and wasn't afraid of rotating up to the net for scoring chances. However, Cunningham's strength came at laying out the body of opposing players, making bullet-like passes to his forwards. It was obvious to Dynamite, and everyone else watching, that Cunningham was determined to be the best defenseman around. 

 

What gave Cunningham the advantage here was not just his size and strength, though being 6'4" and 225lbs certainly helped, it was the fact that he was from the holler. Life in the holler wasn't easy, and it quickly made men out of boys. No one in the holler had anything they didn't earn, which included everything from the clothes on their back to the countless nights spent in the small-town sheriff's cells to cool off. All of it, good or bad, was earned. This instilled in Cunningham a work ethic and drive that folks like Dynamite hadn't seen in years. It made him unique, it made him desirable, it made him an asset like none before.

 

It wasn't long after meeting Cunningham that Dynamite began talking to his old VHL buddies about this kid. "Titus the Titan is a freakin' menace, GOSH!" Of course, this caught the attention of @Ricer13, the manager of the Miami Marauders who made it a point to give him a call.

 

After some simple pleasantries and introductions, Ricer got straight to the point, "Son, I know you've never played on a real team a day in your life, but I've seen the videos of your game and practices and you've got something special. I'm looking to add another defender to our roster, what do you say to signing with Miami for the remainder of our season? I can get you here tomorrow morning for practice."

 

Titus sat on the front porch of the Cunningham home, overlooking the small creek a few hundred feet ahead of him, raised his eyes to the rolling West Virginia mountains above, and with the thick West Virginian holler accent said matter of factly, "Lord willin', and the creek don't rise."

[Ricer13 2,846]

Is it it weird I read this in my head in a western accent?!?