Will Furniss is carving out his own path; his family wouldn’t have it any other way.

OXFORD — The placement of the bat in their hands. The powerful, left-handed swing. Even the way they stare at opposing pitchers to decipher information in the batter's box.

There's no doubt Will Furniss is Eddy's kid.

Will is a freshman at Ole Miss, a highly-touted high school All-American from Nacogdoches, Texas, making a name for himself in a lineup filled with stars. He has at least one hit in nine of the Rebels’ last 11 games and is hitting .294 with three home runs and 14 RBIs, while becoming a mainstay in the Rebels’ (25-23, 6-18 SEC) batting order.

But in the midst of that success, the bat tip in Will's swing created a momentary slog at the plate a few months ago. He consulted old footage of his father. What better person to emulate at the plate than literal college baseball royalty?

"We’re hoping he has close to his father's career," Ole Miss head coach Mike Bianco said. "If that's the case, everybody's going to be really happy, and (he’ll) probably find his number out on the wall in a few decades from now."

Eddy Furniss is synonymous with LSU baseball and the sport at-large. He won two College World Series crowns at LSU in the 1990s under the legendary Skip Bertman. His No. 36 is proudly displayed at Alex Box Stadium, and he is a member of the College Baseball Hall of Fame.

Will didn't watch a ton of film of his father growing up — it was on VHS tapes, Will said, difficult for someone born in 2003 to reckon with — but he was able to pull up clips recently. His father had taught him how to swing from a young age; the resemblance was already uncanny.

"One of Eddy's good friends … came to (the game at) A&M. … (And he's like) ‘My gosh, that's Ed. That's him swinging," Eddy's wife, Crystal, recalled with a laugh.

Will sent the video to his trainer, who was quite clear: If he could pull off Eddy's intricacies at the plate, the sky was the limit.

"I mirrored his little hand pump that he does before, synched up with his leg kick, and I’ve tried to just kind of mirror that swing. Because it worked for him," Will said. "It's going to work for me."

It's easy to connect the dots between Will and Eddy — their statures and styles, playing the same position at SEC schools, even playing under Bianco, an assistant at LSU during Eddy's time in Baton Rouge.

But Eddy doesn't need or want Will to live up to his lofty career or finish the professional baseball dream he chose to put down. No, in a perfect world, Will carves out his own path and lives the life he wants for himself.

"That is such a relief to me, that he doesn't feel the pressure and the need to do what I did. I think that's just the most gratifying thing, is that he can be his own person," Eddy said. " … He can do it the way he wants to do it. And through this whole thing, I’m most impressed with that."

Eddy didn't have any notions of playing college baseball until it happened. He had fixations on being a doctor. But baseball was something he was pretty darn good at.

He and Crystal — they started dating in high school when he was a sophomore and she was a freshman — grew up in Nacogdoches, Texas, which has an estimated population of just over 32,000, per the 2021 U.S. Census. It's about 100 miles from Shreveport, Louisiana and 170 miles or so from Texarkana, Arkansas.

Eddy said he first heard Bertman speak at the Olympic trials, and he later started receiving calls from college baseball powers Texas, Miami, Stanford and LSU. Eddy was a star at Nacogdoches High School and he knew he was good, but that was small-town baseball in Texas. He wasn't sure how that’d translate — until he arrived in Baton Rouge.

Bertman won five College World Series crowns while leading LSU; Eddy was there for two of them and nearly captured a third, though the Tigers’ bid for a three-peat was upended by eventual champion USC in 1998.

Eddy was relentless in honing his craft. Will has heard stories about his father literally working until his hands bled. But Eddy's prowess went deeper than that. His bat speed, strike-zone recognition and uncanny ability to forget previous strikes and bad at-bats was what made him special.

"He was a remarkable hitter," Bianco said. "We didn't teach Eddy. Eddy was great when he got there."

Humility is a Furniss family strong suit. Will said he had a general idea of how good his father was, but because Eddy never talked about it, he wasn't aware just how good. Even now, after all the accolades and awards ceremonies — he won the Dick Howser Award as college baseball's best player in 1998 — it's hard for Eddy to take credit.

Crystal likes to tell the story of when Eddy was invited to speak at LSU's First Pitch Banquet by former LSU coach Paul Mainieri. Bertman introduced Eddy and read off all his achievements.

"As we were walking to the parking lot, (I was like) ‘Gosh Eddy, I mean, I knew whenever y’all played at LSU that y’all were good and that you were good, but I didn't realize you were that good,’" Crystal said. "And he was like, ‘Hmm, me either.’"

Eddy was drafted in the fourth round by the Pittsburgh Pirates of the 1998 MLB Draft. He played in the minor leagues for four seasons, but never advanced past AA.

When he began his professional baseball career, Eddy told himself if he ever stayed at the same level for consecutive seasons, it was time to start the next phase of life. Plan A had always been medicine, Eddy said. Plan B was baseball.

Eddy has a family medicine practice in Nacogdoches, Texas.

"Baseball is something that, ‘Hey, I’m young, I can do it.’ I’m not going to regret going to play professional baseball and not making it," Eddy said. "I’ll regret not playing professional baseball and going, ‘Gosh, I wonder if I could have done it.’"

Each one of Eddy and Crystal's three children had to play a team sport. It didn't matter which one. But they had to play at least one, and they had to be good at it. Crystal explained, if you were good at it, it meant you put in the time outside of what was expected.

Will immediately gravitated toward baseball when he was two or three years old. Eddy was in his residency during Will's formative baseball years. When Will was young, Crystal would throw batting practice, and Eddy would tinker with his son's swing. All Will wanted to do was hit.

"The fact that Will loved it enough to be good at it and do the hours and the work that it required for him to be where he is today, that made us really happy. Because we always wanted our kids to have their own goals and pave their own path," Crystal said. "And we didn't want Will to feel like he had to play baseball because that's what Eddy played. And so for him to choose that and to love it, it was very rewarding."

Eddy's own father was hard on him. If he went 3 for 4 in a game but the one out was a strikeout, Eddy joked, his father would "take my keys away." There's a paper-thin line between pushing a child to be great and pushing too hard.

"You can't control the outcome of what you do. But you can control the effort you put into it," Eddy said. " … I didn't yell at him after the game. As long as he put in the effort, it's baseball: you strike out, you do bad, you do good.

"’Did you have fun kid?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Great, awesome, let's go get an ice cream cone.’"

Will has always appreciated that about his upbringing. When he told his father he wanted to play college baseball, Eddy did everything to help. But the onus was always on Will.

"He wanted it to be my choice to be good, and not his choice for me to be good," Will said. " … I think that's probably the main reason why (it's still fun for me). … He wasn't going to get onto me for it."

Eddy is confident he could walk into an Ole Miss baseball practice today and know it's script. From the specific day-to-day drills to the season-opening speech, it's hard for him to imagine much has changed from what Bertman did.

Will has confirmed as much.

"I don't think it's exact," Bianco said. "But we’ve never ran away from that."

Bianco was just as focused and detail-oriented — in the same mold as Bertman — in the 1990s as he is now, if not more so, Eddy said. Will has heard more stories about Bertman from his father than about Bianco, but there is one the younger Furniss still laughs about.

"Coach B would always help (tell) him where to get in position at first base before Coach Bertman would yell at him," Will said with a laugh. "Because, I guess he would be in the wrong position, and so Coach B would be like, ‘Eddy, Eddy, get over here.’"

The first LSU baseball game Will went to, Eddy was introduced on the big screen. Will, sitting next to him, was situated in the shot, too.

Young Will found the moment surreal, but his father's impact at LSU really set in when Eddy's No. 36 was retired by LSU in 2016. Will was only 12 or so at the time, but that day hit a little differently.

"I think that seeing what I did helped him know that he wanted to be part of that, part of a program, part of the university, part of a family, part of a group of guys who are working hard and going through stressful situations together," Eddy said. "He wanted that camaraderie."

As a senior at the same high school his father starred at, Will hit .488 and was named a first-team high school All-American by the American Baseball Coaches Association. Will had his mind set on college baseball; it was just a matter of where.

Will's final choices were Arkansas, TCU and Ole Miss. LSU wasn't in the cards, Eddy said, as the Tigers, "Had personnel needs that just didn't match up with Will." That wasn't the worst thing in the world, Eddy thought. It probably would have been strange for Will seeing his father's name plastered across the stadium.

There were natural connections with Ole Miss given Bianco's history with Eddy. But that was never a major selling point for any of the parties involved. Eddy and Crystal said they hardly talked to any of the coaches during recruiting; Will was his own search firm.

There was something about Oxford and the Ole Miss campus that resonated with Will from the moment he set foot there as a ninth grader at a camp. Comfort. Ease. It was all there.

"He went to the Elite 100 two years in a row, and he said for him, the first time he stepped on campus and listened to … (the coaches) talk, that was it for him," Crystal said. "And he said ‘If they want me to play here, this is where I want to be.’

"We didn't know that he wasn't offered after that first camp."

Eddy and Bianco didn't talk a ton over the years but, upon reconnecting, it felt like little time had passed. Eddy still considers Bianco an authority figure, like one would a teacher. But Will's recruitment wasn't a feel-good story.

Yes, Bianco gave Crystal a hug when he saw her recently. And yes, Eddy's relationship is probably different than it is with other players’ fathers. But Bianco didn't recruit Eddy to play for him at Ole Miss. He recruited Will.

"The truth of the matter is, Will plays here. Not Eddy," BIanco said. "And I don't mean that in a bad way. But I’ve tried to keep it that way. This isn't a reunion. It's neat in that way, but that's unfair to Will.

"Will came here to have his own experience."

Prior to the Rebels’ series opener against top-ranked LSU in April, Eddy had one major piece of advice for his son against Tigers ace Paul Skenes.

Let. It. Rip.

The odds of stringing together a series of singles against the nation's best pitcher seemed low. Skenes leads the nation in strikeouts for a reason. Eddy faced more than his share of aces in college. The best move, he told his son, was to swing for the fences.

With two strikes in the fourth inning of a 2-0 deficit, Will crushed a Skenes fastball to right-centerfield for a three-run home run, giving the Rebels a momentary lead.

A group of family, including Eddy and a cousin who recently played sand volleyball at LSU, were there, all wearing the colors Will now dons. The Furniss family high-fived and embraced.

"I thought about it afterwards, how cool it probably was for Eddy and Crystal, and those moments, because I’m a parent, too," Bianco said. "Those are special."

Will's home run against LSU was another chapter in the Furniss family's baseball novel. But it also served as the latest chapter in Will's own book. For as many similarities as there are to connect between Eddy and Will, it's the differences that define them.

Eddy knew from a young age he wanted to be a doctor. Will, meanwhile, admittedly doesn't like science. He's a business major and, at the moment, thinks he wants to be a lawyer. Eddy considers himself somewhat of an introvert; Will, meanwhile, says he will "talk to pretty much everyone."

"I’ve never really had it any other way. They’ve always really supported me in whatever I did," Will said. "… His path isn't my path, is what he used to say."

Growing up, Will wore No. 36, like his father. When he got to Ole Miss, assistant Chris Cleary had that number. So, he went one digit off and chose 35. A number is just a number, Will said, and he said would be fortunate to emulate the career of the last player to wear No. 35, Kevin Graham.

Eddy sees it a little differently.

"I think it's kind of cool that maybe it's not my number," Eddy said. "And it's just one more one more way he can do his own thing."

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