by Joyce Grant
Miguel smiled at his friend.
“Okay, whatever you want.” Sebastian scratched his head.
“Boy, ya try to help some people,” Miguel heard him mutter.
20
Home Team
Miguel was ready for the big exhibition game.
The umpires called for the coaches and team reps to meet at home plate. They would go over the ground rules and do the coin toss.
“Hey, Miguel!” called Coach Coop.
Miguel ran out of the dugout to join his coach.
“You do the toss,” said Coop. He handed Miguel a large coin.
Miguel felt his hand shake as he took the coin. He didn’t want to mess up.
He looked around. He saw his mother helping a line of customers at the bake table. He saw Sebastian, in the dugout, pulling on his catcher’s gear. And he saw the overflowing donation bin, guarded by Tami’s older sister, Pamela. She was eating a big blue cupcake, and keeping a careful eye on the money.
Like sister, like sister, thought Miguel, happily.
“Toss the coin,” said Coop.
Miguel balanced the coin on his thumb and flicked it up into the air. The coin spun once, twice, three times.
“Heads!” said Coop, while the coin was in the air.
Miguel caught the coin in his right hand and, in the same motion, flipped it onto the back of his left hand. He peeled his right hand up a bit. The coin had landed heads up.
Miguel looked at Coop.
“Home!” said Miguel.
“Yep, we’re home,” said Coop, looking fondly at the boy. The two jogged to the dugout.
* * *
Jock pitched the first three innings, with Miguel playing first base. For once, it had been a rough start for Jock, who had walked five Pirates. And most of the other Pirates were hitting off him. But the Blues’ defence had held their own. The Blues’ shortstop, Gnash, had managed to tag the Pirates runner out to end the last half-inning.
By the middle of the fourth inning, the game was tied 3–3. Two Blues had struck out.
Tami “took” the first pitch of the fourth inning, letting the ball whiz by her ankles without swinging at it.
“Ball,” said Ben, the umpire.
Tami swung at the second pitch, connecting with the ball for a line drive up the middle. The Pirates’ shortstop fielded the ball off the ground. But then he panicked, seeing Tami speeding toward first. He threw wildly. The ball went over the head of the Pirates’ first baseman. Tami ran to second and the crowd in the Pits cheered.
Jock was up next. Miguel was about to enter the on-deck circle when Sebastian caught his arm.
“Wait,” he said, urgently. “I have a feeling they’re up to something.”
“Aren’t they always?” asked Miguel.
“Yeah, but I’ve been watching their coach. He’s plotting.”
“Maybe. But what can I do about it?”
“I’m not sure. Stay smart out there,” said Sebastian. “There are two out. We only need one run to pull ahead. Don’t get caught.”
“Batter!” the ump called, impatiently.
“If I figure out what’s going on, I’ll try to let you know,” said Sebastian.
Miguel couldn’t imagine what Sebastian could possibly learn about the other team’s tactics. But he decided to trust Sebastian’s baseball instincts. He nodded at Sebastian.
From the on-deck circle, Miguel could see Sebastian watching the Pirates like a hawk. Miguel turned away to watch the pitcher. Every time Jock swung his bat, Miguel swung too. Miguel thought he had the pitcher’s timing down.
“Ohhhhhhhhh!” The crowd cried out as a ball hit Jock squarely on the leg.
“Way to wear it!” shouted Sebastian.
Jock walked awkwardly to first base, clearly trying not to limp or rub his leg. When he reached first, Miguel stepped into the batter’s box.
Hitting Jock appeared to have shaken the pitcher. His first pitch was right down the centre of the plate. Miguel assumed it was meant to be a fastball. It was anything but. Miguel swung hard and hit the ball on his bat’s sweet spot. He ran as fast as he could for first. Jock took off for second and made it to third by the time the Pirates managed to get control of the ball and send it to first. Miguel had already touched the base and was skidding to a stop a few feet past it.
“Safe!” said the umpire, spreading his arms wide.
Tami had crossed the plate. That put the Blues one run ahead with two out.
Coop gave Miguel the “steal” sign. Miguel waited for his chance. When the Pirates’ first pitch was a high ball, he sped to second.
The field umpire swept his arms wide. Safe.
“Ball one,” said Ben.
Jock was at third. Miguel was on second and no one was on first. There were two out.
Sebastian came up to bat. Miguel heard one of the Pirates’ outfielders yell, “Muscles!”
The outfielders moved back. The infielders moved onto the grass.
Sebastian rolled his eyes and stepped out of the batter’s box. He caught Miguel’s eye and pointed to the Pirates’ coach. He was holding up four fingers.
“That means intentional walk,” Miguel muttered.
The Pirates saw something in Sebastian that Miguel hadn’t noticed. Sebastian had muscles. He looked fit. He looked like a big hitter. So they were going to walk him on purpose rather than let him hit it out of the park.
Walking him would load the bases. But with two out, a play at any base would end the inning.
The Pirates’ catcher hopped a step to his right, well away from the plate. He held his glove out in front of him and the pitcher lobbed the ball into it.
“Ball,” said the umpire.
The catcher returned to his spot behind the plate.
The pitcher went into a loose wind-up. Again, the catcher hopped to the side and caught the ball over the dirt.
“Ball two,” said the umpire.
Sebastian watched the proceedings with a smile on his face. Being walked in this league was a sign that you were a real athlete, and everyone knew it. Sebastian wore it like a badge of pride.
“Ball three!”
There was muttering from the bleachers as some parents began to catch on to what was happening. Coop gave Sebastian a thumbs-up sign, which Sebastian tried to ignore. However, it was clear the boy was enjoying his moment.
“Ball four, take your base,” said Ben. The umpire stretched out one arm to usher Sebastian to first. The parents on the Blues’ side of the line, along with some of the kids at the bake table, clapped as he walked to first base.
It was Gnash’s turn to bat. He looked at the loaded bases. For the first time since Miguel had known him, Gnash looked nervous in the batter’s box. But he stepped in and loaded up his bat.
Suddenly . . .
“Time!” yelled the umpire.
The Pirates’ coach had stopped the play. He headed out to the mound.
Miguel watched as the tall coach talked to his pitcher. The pitcher nervously jostled the baseball from one hand to the other. The coach put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Then Miguel saw Sebastian leave his base and run to join him at second.
“They’re going to try to pick you off,” whispered Sebastian.
21
Safe at Home
“Stay awake out there, Miguel. And watch the pitcher. Don’t get picked off,” said Sebastian.
“How do you know what they’re planning?” asked Miguel.
“Look, I only have a second! Just trust me,” said Sebastian.
Sebastian turned and waved to Jock. Sebastian lifted one leg and twisted it around. Then he pretended to throw. The whole imaginary scene was over in a second. But it was clear that Sebastian was warning Jock about a pickoff too.
Jock nodde
d.
The Pirates’ coach left the mound.
After Sebastian’s warning, Miguel kept his eyes on the pitcher. He didn’t expect the boy to look over at him. Most pitchers were smart enough not to do that, because it would make it obvious they were going to try a pickoff.
Miguel was watching for movement in the pitcher’s back foot. If the boy was going to throw a normal pitch, that leg would be planted firmly on the ground. But for a pickoff, he’d probably make a little jump-move. And for that, he’d first have to raise his back heel. That would let him pivot off the rubber and throw.
Pickoffs at second were tricky. Right-handed pitchers had to twist all the way around and look for the person on base. That is, assuming there was someone there to throw to. They also had to make sure they didn’t get called on a balk.
“Play!” yelled the umpire.
The pitcher twisted his front foot into the dirt. He lifted his hands and put them together in front of him.
And then, Miguel saw his back heel come up.
Miguel dove back to second base. The pitcher pivoted. Miguel heard the Pirates’ second baseman sprint to the base. Miguel’s hands reached the base in a cloud of dust, just as the pitcher launched the ball.
“Safe!”
Miguel was well safe, thanks to Sebastian’s warning.
He didn’t know how Sebastian had read the pitcher’s mind. He stood up and put one foot on the base. He brushed the dust off his pants. Over at first base, Sebastian gave him a smile and a thumbs-up.
“Sebastian,” Miguel said softly, “You are one unusual kid.”
CRACK!
Gnash connected with the ball. It went soaring out to centre field. The crowd started yelling. Miguel watched Coop windmill him around third base toward home.
Behind him, he heard a voice he knew.
“Hey, slow poke! Go faster, eh?”
It was Sebastian. He was closing in on him. Miguel smiled and put on a burst of speed. Sebastian couldn’t quite catch up. But Miguel was surprised at how close they were as they headed down the line to the plate.
Miguel had to find a way to get to the plate before the catcher did, or they would both be out. He shut his eyes and threw himself feet-first at home plate. He felt his heels carve into the dirt, and then felt his foot catch on the plate.
“Safe!”
Miguel got to his feet, and then . . . wham! Sebastian body-slammed him in a bear hug that lifted him off the ground. The entire team poured out of the dugout and began high-fiving as Gnash made it all the way to third base.
His three-run triple had made the Blues unstoppable. The game ended, four innings later, 9–3 for the home team.
In the dugout after the game, Miguel was finally able to ask Sebastian the question on his mind.
“How’d you know the pitcher was going to try to pick me off?” Miguel asked his sweaty teammate.
“Simple. It was a strange time for the coach to call a time out. So I knew it wasn’t just a pep talk. Plus, I’d seen the coaches yammering together the whole inning. I told you they were planning something.”
“You’re like a baseball mind-reader,” said Miguel, chuckling.
“Naw. It’s just smart play,” said Sebastian.
“Einstein!” said Miguel, patting his friend on the back.
The boys were interrupted by a ringing sound. Miguel ran over to his baseball bag and took out his mother’s cell phone.
“Hello?”
“How is the fundraiser going?” his father asked in Spanish.
“Fantastic!”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Why? Are things bad there?”
“Not great. But I’m fine right now.”
“But you’d like to be getting on a plane.”
“Right.”
Miguel put the phone on speaker. He walked his father over to the bake table and handed the phone to his mother. She held it up so everyone could hear.
“Mrhph . . . it’s going . . . gulp . . . really well, Mr. Estrada,” said Tami’s sister loudly. She held the cash box up to the phone and shook it so he could hear the coins.
“And Jose,” said Miguel’s mom, “I had the best news today! One of the mothers from the Pirates tried my empanadas. She wants me to cater a party next month!”
“That’s great!” Miguel said.
“If that goes well, she said it could lead to other catering jobs.”
“We could start the bakery over again, in Canada,” said Miguel’s father through the phone.
“This makes me almost appreciate the Pirates,” said Sebastian. He took a big bite of a cupcake. “Almost!”
Claudia ran up to Sebastian. “Come on!” she said, pulling at his arm.
“I told her I’d play catch with her and Alejandro,” said Sebastian. He let himself be dragged away by the little girl.
“Do we trust him with the children?” Miguel’s mother asked.
Miguel turned to watch Sebastian and the kids walking toward Diamond 2. Sebastian held each child by the hand. Both children were talking non-stop, vying for the boy’s attention. He was listening to them and nodding. Then he stopped and dropped Alejandro’s hand. He went down on one knee in front of Claudia.
Miguel resisted the urge to jog over to see what the problem was.
Sebastian reached over and carefully refastened the Velcro on Claudia’s shoe. Then he stood up and brushed the dirt from his knee. He took each kid by the hand again, and they walked the rest of the way to Diamond 2.
“Do we trust him? Completely!” said Miguel, smiling.
Epilogue
Two weeks later, Miguel and Claudia were in the playground at Christie Pits. They were looking for Alejandro. But this time, it was a game of hide-and-seek.
“There he is!” shouted Claudia. She pointed to a tree Alejandro was crouching behind.
Miguel looked past Alejandro. Then he gasped.
“Dad!” he shouted.
“Daddy!” Claudia yelled.
A tall man was striding toward the playground. It was their father. When he reached Claudia, he pulled her up and twirled her around. He kissed her cheek as Alejandro shyly joined them.
“I was going to wait until you were finished babysitting. But I just had to see you,” their father said to Miguel. “I just came in from the airport.”
Miguel waved to his mother, who was standing near a yellow taxi at the top of the hill.
Miguel stared at his father’s face. It was like looking in a mirror. They had the same eyes, the same hair. And the same bright, wide smile.
Miguel’s father embraced him and held him tight. When he finally let him go, he held Miguel out at arm’s length.
“Thank you,” he said softly. There were tears in his eyes. “You’ve done so much — worked so hard.”
“It was all worth it,” choked Miguel, his arms around his father again. He looked around the Pits.
“Welcome home, Dad,” he said. “Welcome home.”
Acknowledgements
Kat Mototsune is my editor at Lorimer, and I’m grateful not only for her expertise and her encouragement, but also her friendship. Kat, you are a gem.
Mélanie Raymond, Commissaire at the Immigration and Refugee Board of Canada, generously gave of her time to help me understand the realities of emigrating to Canada from El Salvador. She also told me about many compassionate immigration lawyers she has known who work hard to help new Canadians.
Jaime Estrada taught me a lot about life in El Salvador. Thank you for your smart insights and your understanding of what I was trying to achieve with this book.
Carolyn, as always, for being an integral member of the Blues’ coaching staff — as well as their most enthusiastic cheerleader.
Thank you to the Toronto Playgrounds baseball league, whose home
field is Christie Pits. They let me launch the first book, Tagged Out, in the Pits, overlooking the very diamond where the book was set, during a home-run derby. It was an incredible experience that I will never forget. Thank you to the generous and talented staff and volunteers, including Steve Smith, Paul Hum, Paul Bagnell and Bill Evans. And thank you to all the players and parents who are, after all, at the heart of this baseball story.
Cathie and Katie, always, for your baseball advice, and to Katie for lending your name to a hard-hitting baseball player who embodies your fierce, athletic spirit.
The real-life Coach Coop, for once again letting me use his name, and for being an awesome coach and a great person.
Thanks to Toronto City Councillors Joe “Beau Maverick” Mihevc and Mike “Spike Leighton” Layton, for all they do to support their communities and baseball in Toronto.
And Sally Keefe Cohen, for reminding me to follow my heart about sticking with the Blues.
Also to the baseball parents I’ve known for years, including Arne, Debra, Stacy, Chris, Mike, Brad, Terry and many others who answered endless baseball questions from me, gave me encouragement and support when I was writing in the hotel lobbies during baseball tournaments, and who protected me and my laptop from fly balls when I wrote in the bleachers.
There’s a lot of real baseball in Sliding Home. As much, in fact, as I could pack into it. When the young players get advice, it’s usually from a real-life baseball coach or a player (like elite catcher, Ryan, who offered some drills). My son Bennett is an elite pitcher and an umpire, and he put most of the words in the umpire’s mouth. He also invented Mudball, which I hope becomes an actual thing at the Pits. He played for more than seven years at Christie Pits and still umps there to this day. Also, thank you to all the coaches (including pitching coaches Graham Tebbit and Army Armstrong) and the players who helped to make the Blues — and I hope you, the reader — better at the game of baseball.
My beta readers: WTW — Sue, Ann, Michele, Heather, Andrea, Leslie, Nancy, Debbie, Pam and Beth. And Bennett, Andrew, Val, Angela Misri, Carolyn, Mélanie, Jaime, Katie, Laura Duncan, Patti, Cathie, Gord Enright and Jose.