Tommy calls for a curveball now, and you adjust your grip. You start your motion and make your pitch.
Slade swings and hits a towering fly ball to right field. Anticipating a play at home plate, you hustle toward the plate to back up the throw. You see Raul standing on third, waiting for the ball to drop into Schachter’s glove before he steams toward home.
You see Tommy stumble as he sets up to block home plate. He falls to the ground, holding his ankle. You race in to cover home plate instead.
Schachter approaches the ball perfectly and catches it for the second out. He’s into his throwing motion the instant he catches the baseball. Raul is racing toward home. You raise both arms in the air, signaling Schachter to throw to you, not Tommy. Tommy’s laying on the ground off to the side, watching the play along with everyone else in the stadium.
In all of your years playing baseball, you’ve never needed to field a play at the plate like this. Schachter’s throw looks like it was fired from an air cannon. It bounces once, right in front of you, and then hits your glove hard. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Raul Granelli diving for the plate.
You sweep your right hand toward the third base line as Granelli dives for the plate. He angles his body away from you and reaches for the plate. You dive now, trying to cut him off from touching home before you can tag him. His hand hits your glove as he lands.
You hold your glove up and show the umpire that you’ve held onto the ball. He yells “Out!” and, even though you try to avoid emotion on the field, you can’t help but slap the plate in celebration.
Back in the dugout, you give a fist-bump to Schachter, whose perfect throw saved a run. Tommy has his leg extended on the bench. His ankle is clearly bothering him, and he’ll need to come out of the game.
When your team bats in the bottom of the seventh, you lead off and slap a single to left field. Kev Santana is up next.
You step off of first base for a very modest lead. The first pitch to Kev sails past the catcher’s glove to the backstop, and you quickly hustle to second base. Before you can even catch your breath, Kev lines the ball up the middle. You have to dodge to avoid getting hit in the head
As you stand up, you see the ball fall and the Jets center fielder charging. You race toward third, and see Coach Dawson waving you home. You round the base and run as hard as you ever have.
As you cross the plate, you fall to your knees. After your last game against the Jets, you didn’t know if you’d get the chance to finish your dream season. Now, you’re state champions!
You stand up and join the mob of your teammates celebrating in the middle of the field. Your twentieth win of the season is definitely the sweetest one!
THE END
You tell the agents what you remember about the conversation in the locker room. You can’t help but feel like you’re betraying your friends, but you know you could be in a lot of trouble if you lie.
“We’re not surprised,” Agent Martinez tells you. “There are a couple of trainers at Sunshine Fitness that have managed to get involved with almost every high school athletic team in the Valley.”
“And, Bryce Bain and Fred Welch are the two guys we’ve been watching,” Borck says. “But you’ve never been to Sunshine, right?”
You shake your head. The gym at your school has been more than enough for you. And the stories you’ve heard of athletes taking steroids are scary enough to keep you from ever considering it.
You wonder how this will impact the state championship. If news comes out that some of your teammates might be using steroids, there’s no telling if there would even be a championship game!
“What about the championship? We were supposed to play today,” you say.
“You know,” Martinez says, “we don’t want to ruin the Bulls’ season by all of this nonsense coming out before the championship game. Eventually, your teammates are going to have to face the music, but that might be able to wait at least a little while.”
You feel relieved and smile.
“But, to do that, we would need to make sure the rest of the investigation is moving forward,” Borck says. “How would you like to help us do that?”
You’re not sure what Borck is getting at. “Huh?” you ask.
Martinez flashes her partner a look, and then looks at you with a warm smile. Suddenly, you feel like the entire conversation you’re having is going exactly how the agents planned it. “We’d like you to work with the FBI to stop what’s going on at Sunshine Fitness,” she says. “You’d be helping your entire community.”
“What would I do?” you ask. “I’m just a kid.”
“That’s the whole point,” Borck says. “These guys are targeting kids. We need you to go in there and ask them to train you. Mention you’re a ballplayer and see if they offer you anything illegal.”
“And if they do?” you ask. “What do I do?”
Martinez and Borck look at each other for a second, hesitating. Neither of them says anything.
“What happens if they offer me steroids?” you ask again.
“Well,” Martinez says, “you’d be wearing a wire so we’ll hear everything, and we’ll raid them as soon as the offer is out there.”
“These guys are very careful,” Borck says, “so even though we know what’s going on, we haven’t been able to catch them yet.”
“Why me?” you ask.
“Because we know you’re a good kid. And you’re also a promising enough prospect that these guys at Sunshine will be interested in you. They depend on some of their clients going pro and then having more money to spend on their illegal training,” Borck says.
“That’s their whole business,” Martinez says. “It’s hard to make money from high school kids. So they only work with the ones who might be able to pay them back some day.”
“When would I do it?” you ask. “Would it be soon?”
Martinez and Borck look at each other again before answering.
“We’d want to go this afternoon,” Martinez says. “The longer we wait, the more chance of the entire investigation getting messed up. We’ve put a year into this.”
You don’t say a word now, lost in thought. You’ve got butterflies in your stomach just thinking about wearing a wire. You feel like you’ve wandered into an action movie.
“I know it’s scary,” Martinez says. “And we can’t tell you there’s no risk dealing with these guys. But, we’re going to be right outside, and we’ll have fifteen officers ready to come get you.”
You want to help, but you don’t want to do anything to put you or your family in danger. Also, you know helping to prove that Sunshine Fitness is dealing performance-enhancing drugs will get two of your teammates in trouble.
“What do you say?” Borck asks. “Will you help us?”
“What if I say ‘no?’” you ask.
“We can’t force you to do anything,” Martinez answers. “But we’d really appreciate your help.”
GO TO PAGE 45 . You decide not to help the agents. It’s just too risky.
GO TO PAGE 62. You tell the agents that you’ll help them by wearing a wire into Sunshine Fitness.
You decide to join your teammates at the mall for laser tag to get your mind off the postponed championship game, and the email you got from Ali.
The mall is crowded and there are a lot of other people playing as well, but the ten Bulls players still make sure to divide up evenly between the red team and the blue team.
In the first round of laser tag, you find a great spot and set up behind a huge pole. You start picking off members of the blue team, who can’t even see you shooting laser beams at them. You’re all set to win the entire round when you start getting hit yourself.
You look over to see who’s discovered your position and it isn’t one of your teammates at all. It’s a girl from your school named Leeza. Her long brown hair swings around as she absolutely destroys the other players in the laser tag arena.
“You’re dominating,”
you yell over.
She just looks at you and shoots you again, knocking you out of this round.
When the scores come up afterward, Leeza has won. You walk up to her. “Congratulations,” you say.
“Whatever, Kellen, just try to give me a little better competition next time, okay?” she says with a smile.
Later, after the game is over, you spot Leeza with some of her friends in the mall. Tommy notices you looking at her and encourages you to walk over. Who knows what will come of it, but for a moment at least, you’re not thinking about Ali.
THE END
You slow down and pass the turnoff. “We’re federal agents,” she says. You see the badge she’s holding out of the window: AGENT MARIA MARTINEZ, FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATIONS. Your heart starts racing and you have to put your foot down to stop yourself from falling.
A minute later, you’re all standing under a tree, mostly avoiding the rain. The other one introduces himself as Agent Borck.
They look at you for a few seconds. “Do you have any idea why we stopped you?” Martinez asks.
You shake your head. “No,” you answer.
“What do you know about steroids?” Martinez asks.
You’ve never really given steroids any thought. “I know some athletes take them, and I know they’re bad,” you say.
“Has anyone ever offered you steroids, Kellen?” Borck asks.
You scrunch up your face. “What? Like, who?” you ask. His question sounds so ridiculous that you smile nervously at him.
“Maybe someone’s come up to you after a game? Or even a teammate – maybe in the locker room?” Martinez asks.
“Sometimes, they might just ask if you were interested in some one-on-one strength training,” Borck says.
“A lot of the local guys pushing anabolic steroids train at a gym called Sunshine Fitness,” she says. “Any of this sound familiar?”
“Sorry, but no,” you answer.
“What about your teammates?” Borck asks. “Any of them ever mention juicing?”
You’re about to say “no,” but then you remember something.
It was before a game early in the season. The guys were all goofing around in the locker room. Everyone was bragging about how strong they were, trying to do more pushups than the last guy.
Bryce, who’d just done 150 pushups a couple of minutes earlier, got down on the ground and did fifty one-armed pushups. He stood up and started beating his chest like a cartoon gorilla as everyone congratulated him. He didn’t even seem tired.
A few of the guys wanted answers. Bryce was a good player, but not a guy you’d see all the time in the weight room.
“I’ve got this great trainer downtown at Sunshine Fitness,” Bryce said. “Any of you want to come down, I’m sure he’d be happy to work with you. He can do wonders with only a few minutes a week.”
“Okay, A-Rod,” one of the guys said, mentioning a disgraced Major League slugger.
Bryce just shrugged. “I got drafted, didn’t I?” he said. Bryce had been picked in the 11th round of the latest major league draft. After that, it was time to head out onto the field, and the conversation never came up again. At least not in front of you.
You hadn’t really given it a second thought after that day. You didn’t come away from the conversation thinking Bryce had definitely done anything wrong. You just didn’t hear him deny it.
“Never?” Borck asks. “You’re absolutely positive?”
GO TO PAGE 7. You stay quiet and don’t mention the conversation you just thought about to the federal agents.
GO TO PAGE 28. You tell the agents about the locker room conversation.
You want, more than anything, to tell Coach you’ve got it – you’re the pitcher who’s going to give the Bulls the best chance to come out of the game as state champs. But somehow you already feel defeated.
You hand the ball to Dawson. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Coach, but I don’t want us to lose the game because of me.”
At first, Coach doesn’t reach out to grab the ball from you. “I don’t want that ball, Kel, unless you’re positive that you can’t do it today,” he says.
You think about it for a second, and tell Coach Dawson that you’re sure. He signals to the bench for Rory Cho to come in and pitch. You walk off the mound with your head down. You’re not going to abandon your team like last time. But you need a few minutes before you can sit in the dugout and face your teammates.
You head out to the parking lot next to the field and sit down on the curb. You pull your Bulls cap off and cover your face, trying to keep your tears inside, but it doesn’t work. As disappointed as you are that you pitched poorly, you’re more ashamed that you quit.
You feel someone sit down next to you. When you take your head out of your hat, you see that it’s your dad.
“How’d you know about the game?” you ask him.
“It’s the championship, Kel,” he says. “Your mom invited me.”
“I guess you shouldn’t have bothered,” you say.
Your dad puts his hand on your back. It’s been a long time since the two of you have related over anything more important than scrambled eggs at the local diner. “I’m so proud of you, Kel.”
“Why?” you say. “I quit on my team . . . again! I feel ashamed.”
“You want to know a secret?” he asks you.
You shrug. “Sure.”
“I never learned how to deal with failure either. Even small stuff. I like to say that I let perfect get in the way of good,” he says.
“Huh?” You ask.
“I try so hard to be perfect that I get so disappointed when I can only manage to be good, I just give up. That’s why I work as much as I do. Honestly, it’s probably why I’m not the best dad, Kel. Instead of trying twice as hard when your mom and I split up, I felt like I couldn’t be the perfect dad anymore and just kind of gave up,” he says. “You think you feel ashamed about a ball game?”
“How can I go back there and face my team?” you ask.
“You do something I should’ve done,” he says. “You forgive yourself. And remind them that they can count on Kellen Moore.”
You nod, and know that your dad is right. You have to go back. Your dad stays on the curb while you stand up. “Thanks, Dad,” you say as you start to walk away.
“Hey, Kel,” he calls after you.
“Yeah?”
“Kel, I want you to know you can count on me,” he says. “I know I haven’t always given you a lot of reasons to believe that. But, I want you to know you can. I want to be better.”
You nod and give your dad as much of a smile as you can manage right now. Your relationship won’t heal overnight, but you have more hope than you have in a long time.
It feels good to know that your dad is behind you, as you head back to the dugout to make things right with your teammates.
THE END
You decide to warn your teammates. You don’t feel good about doing exactly what the federal agents asked you not to do, but you have strong bonds with the guys who suit up for the Bulls.
When you get to the dirt mounds, six of your teammates are riding around, doing tricks going up and down the muddy hills. Bryce is at the center of everything – the leader of the team. After getting drafted, he’s planning on playing professionally next year.
Getting caught using steroids would mean a suspension for Bryce. Smaller violations have ruined baseball careers before.
You just sit on your bike waiting for someone to notice you. You want to be the kind of person who stands up for his friends when the going gets tough, but you’re also dreading doing this.
You round up the guys. Once they’ve gathered, you tell them about your conversation with the FBI agents.
“No way,” says Kev Santana. He’s a freshman. “This isn’t the major leagues! Who would be stupid enough—?”
Fred cuts him off. “What are we gonna do, Bryce?”
The rest of the guys j
ust look stunned. “Are you kidding me?” Paco Schachter says. “Bryce, you don’t even need—”
“None of you guys have anything to worry about,” Bryce says. “Fred and I will handle this.”
Bryce and Fred start slowly riding out of the park. You ride along with them. “What exactly did the cops say?” Fred asks.You tell them that they mentioned the gym downtown, and said they were investigating the team.
It’s starting to sink in as you watch their faces. This dream season for the Bulls has been an illusion. How many of your thirteen wins would you have had if not for their enhanced performance?
“I don’t get it,” you say. “Why?”
“Kel, don’t ask dumb questions right now. We have big problems here. I have a contract riding on this. And Freddy’s going to get drafted next year, if this doesn’t blow up.”
At least you know that the batters you got out this season were legitimate. But, what about the state championship? You know now that the Bulls don’t deserve to be there.
Bryce asks you if the agents gave you a way to reach them, “Yeah,” you say, “I got their business cards.”
“I have an idea,” Bryce says. “You still want to win the state championship, don’t you?”
The game is the last thing on your mind. “Well, yeah, but—”
“Then, you have to call the agents and tell them you do know one player on the team who’s taking steroids,” Bryce says.
“Huh?” Fred asks. At first, you think Bryce is suggesting that he’s going to own up to what he did.
“Kel,” Bryce says, “tell them Pierre is the one.”
Pierre Ferran is the worst player on the Bulls, and barely weighs 120 pounds. No one would believe him to be a steroid user. “That’s ridiculous,” you tell Bryce.
The Iceman's Meltdown Page 3