The Iceman's Meltdown

by Josh Anderson

  “Pierre’s not gonna play in the championship anyway,” Bryce says. “And when the police investigate, they won’t find anything anyway. So, you wouldn’t be getting him in real trouble.”

  “No,” you say. “I won’t do that.” You’re amazed at how far Bryce will go to protect his lie.

  Bryce stops his bike suddenly, walks up to you, and gets in your face. “Do you know how much I have riding on this?” he says.

  “Bryce,” Fred says, slowing his bike down. “Come on.”

  “Fred, either go home, or help me clean up this mess,” Bryce says. You get you off your bike to back away from him. “Let me know if you see anyone coming,” he says to Fred.

  Bryce pulls you closer by your shirt and you start to get nervous. He’s much stronger than you are. He pushes you behind a hedge so no one driving by would even see you. “Call them,” he says.

  “No,” you say.

  Bryce grabs your pitching arm and twists it behind you. He could easily break your arm, or dislocate your shoulder. He pulls your phone from your pocket. “I’ve got everything riding on this. And now, you do too. Call the agents and say what I told you to.”

  You’re beyond shocked. At the moment, you have no choice but to do what he’s asking. “Okay,” you say.

  You take a deep breath as Bryce releases your arm and turns you around. He sticks the phone in your hand and peeks around the hedge to say something to Fred. You pull out Agent Borck’s card . . .

  GO TO PAGE 58. You try to run and get as far away from Bryce as you can.

  GO TO PAGE 60. You dial agent Borck.

  You race for home. The catcher, Draymond Pope, sets up on the inside of the plate, but has to move two steps to his right, fielding the ball on a bounce. It’s a race now as you and Pope are about the same distance from home plate.

  You dive headfirst toward the plate, angling yourself as far away from Pope’s glove as you can. He dives with his catcher’s mitt in front of him, trying to touch your hand before it touches home plate.

  He sweeps his mitt across the plate just as your hand touches. Pope may have touched home plate before you did, but he doesn’t graze your arm until it’s already nicked the side of the plate. You stand up, as the ump signals “safe.” Your teammates fly out of the dugout, leaping across the field and completely mobbing you.

  Later that evening, you and your teammates celebrate at Royal Pizza. On one of the tables is the state championship cup.

  Bryce is standing near the trophy and calls you over. He’s got a pitcher of cola and a pitcher of orange soda. “Name your drink, Kel,” he says.

  You tell him you prefer cola and he pours some in. It was only a few weeks ago that you melted down against the Jets and couldn’t have imagined drinking from the championship cup tonight. You pull the heavy, gold trophy to your mouth and lean it back, enjoying the feeling of being a champion.

  In only a few short months, you’ll be back on the mound for your senior season, hiding your emotions like you’re supposed to. After all, you’re the Iceman. But tonight, there’s no need to conceal how you feel. And, it’s a good thing, because right now, there’s nothing that could wipe the smile off your face.

  THE END

  You don’t say a word to Coach. You tell him you’re just fine by jogging out to the mound and starting your warmup pitches.

  Somehow, the idea that anyone might give your team a better chance to win is enough to snap you out of your funk.

  Switching up the signs definitely makes a huge difference, and the Iceman is back for the next few innings. You don’t even allow another base runner until the sixth, and manage to pitch through the seventh inning without giving up another run. If not for the rough start, yours would certainly go down as one of the most dominant pitching performances in the history of the state championship game.

  Unfortunately, your team only manages two runs, and goes into the bottom of the seventh down, 3-2. When the first two batters each hit pop flies to left field, it’s up to Fred Welch to try to keep the game alive for your Bulls.

  You stand against the dugout fence, cheering him on. This is why you play baseball: a one-run game in the bottom of the seventh in the state championship. You think back to how badly things looked after the first inning. It feels like you’re in the middle of a story you’re going to remember for the rest of your life.

  Even though the best high school hitters only get hits four out of ten times up, you’re sure Fred’s going to keep the game alive. Sure, that is, until he hits a weak grounder to the shortstop. You gasp as he rifles it over to the Jets first baseman and the Crescent City celebration begins.

  It’s painful to sit and watch as the Jets whoop it up on your home field. Coach gives them five minutes, and then your team heads out to join them on the field and shake hands.

  Later, in the dugout, Coach speaks to the team. “Don’t forget what an amazing accomplishment it is to be the second-best team in the entire state,” he tells you. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but that doesn’t mean Coach is wrong.

  When you meet up with your mom to head home after the game, she introduces you to someone she met during the game. He hands you his business card: Dave Okerlund, men’s baseball coach, Upper Valley University. Upper Valley is one of the top baseball schools in the country. They regularly make it to the College World Series.

  “I’m sorry about the loss today, kid,” he says. “But, you fought hard out there. Hey, I’m not even allowed to officially speak with you yet, but I want to unofficially say that, when the time comes, I hope you’ll consider Upper Valley.”

  True to form, you don’t show too much emotion. You are, after all, the Iceman. But, on the inside you’re jumping up and down. Sure, you wish you were a state champion, but you’ll have another chance next season.

  And, after that, who knows? Maybe Upper Valley . . .

  THE END

  You decide to run home and grab your bike, so you can join your teammates at the park. On the drive back home, your mom reminds you again that getting broken up with isn’t the end of the world. You know she’s right, but you still feel awful. Ali had become more than your girlfriend during the hours and hours you spent talking each night. She had become one of your best friends.

  When you get home, you’re not feeling in the mood to go anywhere. But you head to the garage and pull your bike down from its rack on the wall. It looks clean and new now, but you know this will be the last time it does. Riding at the wet dirt mounds is sure to completely cover the bike – and you – in a thick layer of mud.

  You wheel your bike out to the street and head off for the park. It’s about a fifteen-minute ride from your house.

  As you’re riding, you notice a black car driving next to you. The black car stops to your left when you pause at the stop sign at the end of your block. You make a right and continue toward the park for another few minutes.

  When you stop again at a light at the intersection of Remsen Avenue and Church Street, the same black car pulls up next to you. You look inside and see a man and a woman staring at you. Neither of them looks familiar to you.

  It could be a coincidence that they’ve happened to take the same route as you, but it’s definitely strange. When the light turns green, you try to slow down, hoping the car will pass you. But the black car just moves along slowly, at the same speed as your bike.

  A car behind them honks its horn, and then pulls around the black car. But, the man and woman don’t even look like they notice. You feel both scared and curious.

  You reach the arboretum, a long wooded area that leads into the park. You’d planned to ride on the auto road, because it’s the quickest way to the back of the park. But there’s a separate bike path that winds deep into the park too.

  It’ll be a long ride to get where you’re going, but at least the bike path would get you away from the mysterious black car.

  You’re about to turn onto the bike path in the arboretum when you notice the black c
ar’s passenger-side window roll down.

  “Hey, Kellen,” the woman calls out from the car. “We’d like a chance to talk to you. Would you mind pulling off to the side?”

  Nearly every scary story you’ve ever heard about a stranger in a car runs through your head. You’re seconds from the turnoff. You try to keep your eyes in front of you while the woman talks. “Who are you?” you ask.

  If you make a break for it down the bike path, there’s no way they can follow you. Before the woman has a chance to answer, you need to decide . . .

  GO TO PAGE 32. You stay on the auto road and give the woman a chance to explain who she is.

  GO TO PAGE 56. You pedal as fast as you can on the bike route to get away from the black car.

  You decide it’s too risky, and decide that you won’t help the agents.

  “I’m sorry,” you tell them. “But, I’m not going to put my family in danger. What if these guys decide to come after me?”

  “Okay,” Borck says. “We’re disappointed, but you’re free to make your own choice . . . I thought you had it in you, but I guess not.”

  As you stand up and walk to your bike, Agent Martinez follows you. “He’s just really passionate about this,” she says. “His nephew died from a drug overdose, so anything with kids and drugs is a sore point for Borck.”

  You wish you could help, but the voice in your head is telling you to walk away from the situation, so you do.

  The championship game turns out to be a slugfest. Unfortunately, your last effort of the season is a lackluster one. You only last three innings before getting pulled for a relief pitcher. Crescent City wins a close game, 14-11. It’ll be nearly half a year until next season begins.

  A couple of weeks after the championship, you hear from one of your classmates that Sunshine Fitness was raided by the FBI. When you read about it in the newspaper, you can’t believe what you see. The article says that nothing questionable was discovered and that the entire investigation is being called a misunderstanding.

  You feel a hole in the pit of your stomach. You know things might’ve been different if you’d stepped up. You wish you’d made a different decision, but you know you can’t change the past.

  All you can do now is wait for next season and hope that the bad guys at Sunshine Fitness don’t get their claws on any more of your teammates.

  THE END

  You tell Coach you can do it, and go to the mound to pitch the 8th inning.

  You feel a dull ache in your elbow as you throw a fastball to the first batter, their pitcher, Boone Storment. The pitch misses the plate for ball one. You consider telling Coach your arm hurts but try to tough it out instead.

  You miss your target with your next pitch, a changeup, and Storment clobbers the ball. The homerun puts the Jets up 3-2.

  After two doubles in a row bring the score to 4-2, Coach has no choice but to make a pitching change. You don’t even try to change his mind now. He pats you warmly on the shoulder, as he takes the ball from your hand. You slowly walk back to the dugout.

  Your team fails to score in the bottom of the 8th and loses the championship game, 4-2. After the game, Coach congratulates the team on a great season.

  “Each and every one of you should be proud of this season,” he says. “Failing to win the championship today just gives us something more to shoot for next year. I want to single out one player who learned a very valuable lesson. He grew not only as a player, but as a person today . . . Anyone here remember the way Kel acted after we lost to this same team six weeks ago?”

  You see your teammates nod. A few of them smile nervously at you.

  “But then, today?” he says. “I had to pry him off that mound even after he gave up those runs in the 8th. Then he went to that dugout and he cheered on his teammates until the last out. Kellen, I’m proud of you, kid.”

  It’s not the outcome you wanted, but you are proud. Today, even though you lost, you really did earn the name “Iceman.”

  THE END

  You decide to try to make it home. There, you can discuss your options with your mom, and call Coach Dawson and the federal agents.

  As you pedal down the long byway toward your house, you hear Bryce calling for you to stop. “C’mon, Kel,” he screams. “I wasn’t really gonna hurt you!” But, you don’t believe him. The way he twisted your arm in back of you, and the desperation in his voice, convinced you that he meant business. Stopping now only puts you in the same position, but on an isolated stretch of road.

  You turn and see that Bryce has gained on you. He’s only about 100 feet behind you. Your chance of speeding away from him is gone. At this rate, he’ll catch you long before you reach home.

  An idea pops into your head and you slow down, rolling along now and letting Bryce catch up. As he pulls next to you, you see a huge welt on his face where you hit him. You roll to a stop, but you don’t get off your bike.

  Bryce stops his bike, lays it down, and starts walking toward you. “I just want to talk about this, Kel.”

  You try to time it perfectly, so that Bryce is as far from his bike as possible when you take off again. You pedal like mad for home as Bryce scrambles for his bike.

  Once he’s on your tail again, though, you realize that you’ve only delayed the inevitable. You’re still at least two miles from home when Bryce pulls close behind you. Before you know it, he’s pedaling next to you. “You’re making me mad, Kel,” he screams, using his left arm to try to knock you off your bike.

  You skid to a stop, ready to try to defend yourself. Even though you’ve never been in a fight before, you put your fists up.

  You’ve never felt so lucky as when you see the black car belonging to the federal agents screech to a stop behind Bryce. Agent Martinez jumps out first, then Borck.

  “Everything alright here, fellas?” Martinez asks.

  Bryce puts on a fake smile. “Everything’s great. I’m just talking to my friend here is all,” he says.

  “It looked like you guys were getting ready to fight, Bryce,” Borck says.

  Bryce scrunches up his face and turns to Borck. “How do you know my name?”

  “We got it off the client list at Sunshine Fitness,” Martinez says. “Why don’t we let Mr. Moore get home, and we’ll have a conversation about a couple of the trainers at your gym.”

  You see from the look in Bryce’s eyes that he feels trapped. You’re not sure what he would’ve done if the agents hadn’t shown up. He was in a desperate enough position that anything was possible.

  You nod at the two agents and ride off without even looking at Bryce. Anything he did to mess up his future is his business, and you’re glad to be out of it.

  As you ride home, you think about the impact this will have on the championship game. Will your team be disqualified?

  Whenever you get back out on the field, the team will need you to be even more of an “Iceman.” It’s going to be a long road back from this scandal for the Bulls.

  You’re ready to do your part. The Iceman’s always ready.

  THE END

  You tell Coach you’re doing fine, and as you wait for him to get back to the dugout, you notice Fred Welch staring at the ground and sulking over at third.

  “You’ll get the next one, Freddy boy,” you yell over, hoping to remind him that he’s not alone out there.

  Fred nods at you and gets into a fielding position. You’re not sure if you helped, but you know you’d appreciate the kindness in the same situation.

  You start the next batter off with two fastballs on the inside half of home plate. He swings and misses at the first, and watches the second one cross over for a strike. Now, you loft a changeup over the outside corner . . .

  After two fastballs, the hitter is handcuffed by the floater. He never gets the bat off of his shoulder until he’s on his way back to the dugout. The slow changeup is a pitch that an eight-year-old could hit, if he knew it was coming. But, mixed in with much faster pitches, it’s as good a tool a
s a pitcher can have.

  You trot back to the dugout, happy to escape the first down only 1-0.

  The game stays tight until the late innings. You give up one more run in the fourth. Then, your team picks up two runs on a powerful home run by your right fielder, Paco Schachter. Schachter’s strength is usually his rifle arm, not his bat. It’s a 2-2 game when you go back out to pitch in the seventh.

  The Jets have the top of their order up again, and Raul Granelli steps in. Tommy calls for a changeup. You’re not sure you agree, but you don’t argue.

  Raul’s solid contact lets you know that you were right to doubt the pitch call. After smacking it into right field, Raul stands on first base, taking off his batting gloves. The next hitter up for the Jets is an old friend of yours from little league, Vince Nolan.

  Bryce holds Raul on by standing on first base, ready for a pickoff throw. This makes it harder for Raul to steal, but with his speed, it’s not necessarily going to stop him.

  Tommy calls for a low fastball. You’re hoping to get Vince to hit a ground ball to give your team a chance at a double play, before Raul can attempt to steal second.

  You lift your leg to start your motion to the plate and see Raul break for second base out of the corner of your eye. You throw a laser beam to the plate and Vince swings. He hits a soft groundball toward the mound. It’s moving slowly, so you charge the baseball.

  You grab it and look at second. Your shortstop, Kev Santana, is already on the base waiting for your throw. Raul is more than two-thirds of the way to second. If you try for the double play, there’s also a chance you won’t get either runner out.

  You have plenty of time to throw out Vince if you toss it to first for the easy out . . .

  GO TO PAGE 14. You make the risky throw to second base and try for the double play.

  GO TO PAGE 24. You take the easy out only, at first base.