If I get the chance, I’m going to ask him to teach me some Japanese phrases, he decided.
His thoughts were interrupted then by a final announcement from the chairman. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to one of my favorite players—Nathan Daly!”
Carter applauded wildly as an athletic-looking man trotted to the mound. Nathan Daly was a legendary professional pitcher. He’d been at the top of his game four years ago, his incredible fastball serving up more strikes than any other hurler at the time. His image had graced the covers of several sports magazines, the arresting stare of his grass-green eyes and his nearly white blond hair making him instantly recognizable.
Then two seasons ago, he stunned the baseball world by announcing his retirement. Fans had been up in arms—until they learned the reason why.
Daly’s young wife had cancer and wasn’t expected to live. Nathan Daly chose to be with her during the time she had left. It wasn’t long. Six months after she was diagnosed, she passed away with Nathan by her side.
Daly kept out of the spotlight for a while after that. Recently, though, he’d put his glove back on and taken to the mound again—not as a professional player, but to help raise funds for cancer research.
“I can’t believe he’s here,” Carter said excitedly to Ash. “He started his career in Little League, you know, just like us!” He watched as Daly went through his windup and threw to the catcher. “Man, what I wouldn’t give to pitch like him.”
Ash nudged him with his shoulder. “Dude, you keep throwing the way you do, and someday you will.” He nodded as if the truth of this statement was evident. “You will.”
“I’d be happy just to meet him.”
As the words were leaving his mouth, Carter glanced at the West players. There he saw a sight he’d never seen before: Phillip DiMaggio staring in openmouthed adoration.
In the past, Carter had seen Phillip look smug, had watched him swagger with self-satisfaction, had endured his arrogant comments. But see him follow someone with worshipful eyes? Never!
“Guess he’d like to meet him, too,” he murmured.
“What’d you say?” Ash asked.
“Nothing,” Carter replied. “Just thinking out loud.”
The ceremonies concluded. All but two teams made their way to the Grove dining hall for lunch. Mexico and Canada were scheduled to play the tournament’s first game at one o’clock at Volunteer Stadium.
As Carter passed the nervous players, he gave them a big smile and a thumbs-up. “Good luck!”
“¡Sí!” Charlie S. echoed in Spanish, “¡Buena suerte!”
A few of the Mexican players nodded at Charlie S. with appreciation. “¡Muchas gracias!” one called back.
Charlie S. waved his hand. “¡De nada!”
Carter stared at his teammate. “Since when do you know Spanish?”
Charlie blushed. “My grandmother has been teaching me since I was little. I promised her I’d use it here if I could.”
Just then the team from Japan made its way past them, the players chatting excitedly in their native tongue. Charlie S. and Carter smiled and waved to them, and they returned the gesture with slight bows and wide grins.
“Guess you don’t always need to speak the same language to get the message across,” Charlie S. commented.
“But we do speak the same language, remember?” Carter spread his arms wide as if to embrace their surroundings. “Baseball!”
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
I wish we weren’t facing the guys from Northwest,” Rodney said as he pulled on his jersey. It was Friday afternoon, and West was scheduled to play its first game in two hours. “I mean, we’re friends now because of Regionals and the trip here. It’s going to stink if we beat them, you know?”
“Not as much as if we lose to them,” Phillip interjected.
“Well, yeah, obviously,” Rodney said, rolling his eyes.
Liam said nothing. With the time before their game ticking down, his nerves were beginning to jangle. He knew he’d be fine once he hit the field, but the anticipation was driving him nuts!
Finally, Mr. Matthews came to fetch them. “You boys will be playing to a packed stadium today,” he informed them with a smile. “But don’t you worry about that. These are some of the best fans in the world. No matter how you play, they’ll cheer for you.”
“Big crowds don’t bother us, do they, guys?” Phillip said. He stretched his arms out to either side. The rest of the players imitated his pose. They waved their arms up and down with undulating movements and waggled their hips. “Loosey-goosey! Loosey-goosey!” they cried.
Phillip had introduced the crazy move during Regionals. Its silliness made them forget their nerves, at least temporarily.
Mr. Matthews laughed. “Reminds me of how I used to dance back in the old days. In all seriousness, boys, let me give you one suggestion. Use your warm-up time to work out any last jitters. Then block out the crowd and”—he grinned—“have a ball!”
Liam, for one, took the host’s advice to heart. By game time, he felt raring to play. Not that he’d be playing right away. Coach Driscoll had chosen to keep him, Phillip, Cole, and Carmen on the bench for the first few innings. Liam was a little disappointed not to start, but he trusted the coach’s judgment. After all, it had gotten them this far.
Northwest had won the coin toss and so was the home team. As the players ran onto the field, the West team and coaches huddled in a circle, arms over shoulders. They bounced on the balls of their feet and started murmuring.
“We believe. We believe. We believe that we can win.”
The chant started low but swelled until it echoed throughout the dugout. “We believe! We believe! We believe that we can win!”
As Liam looked around at his teammates’ excited and eager faces, he truly did believe it.
The first inning saw textbook baseball defense in action with both sides going three up, three down.
West’s bats talked louder the second inning, however. Rodney started things off with a smashing double that had fans roaring with approval. Christopher followed up with a powerful single to the outfield. Rodney hotfooted it to third and then raced home for the first run of the game. Christopher stayed put at first.
Next up was Mason. He took a big cut at the first pitch and missed. He fanned at the next two pitches as well for out number one.
Nate Solis, a quiet twelve-year-old with thick dark eyebrows, brown eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips, fared better: getting to first when the Northwest shortstop missed his hard-hit grounder. Christopher slid safely into second, just beating out the throw after the bobbled pickup.
Luis Cervantes approached the batter’s box with one out and runners on first and second.
Ping!
He drilled a line drive into the gap in shallow right field. He dropped his bat and dashed for first. Christopher and Nate took off, their legs blurring as they ran. Christopher scored and Nate landed safely at second. Luis was all smiles at first, clearly delighted to have clocked an RBI. “Keep it going, Elton!” he cried.
Unfortunately, Elton Sears ended their chances of adding a third run that inning by hitting into a double play.
“Rats!” Elton berated himself in the dugout.
“Shake it off,” Coach Driscoll advised, “and focus on the inning ahead.”
But Elton couldn’t seem to shake it off. He walked the first two batters. Luis called for time and hurried to the mound. He said a few words to Elton and trundled back to the plate. Whatever he said must have helped because Elton threw two strikes.
On the third pitch, though—pow! The Northwest batter connected for a high fly ball to shallow right field. Rodney tore up the turf trying to get to it.
Liam leaped off the bench. “Go, Rodney! Go!” he screamed. Then his heart sank.
He’s not going to get there in time.
The Northwest base coaches weren’t counting on Rodney to miss, however. They motioned fo
r their runners to pause halfway down the paths. That way, if Rodney did make the catch, they could hustle back to their bases. But the lead runner must have missed the signal because he didn’t put on the brakes until he was close to third.
Rodney, meanwhile, dove forward, slid on his side with his glove outstretched, and caught the ball! A split second later, he was back on his feet and throwing to second. The Northwest runner tried to backtrack, but he was too late. The ball hit Christopher’s glove and stuck there.
“Out!” the umpire called.
“Way to go, Rodney!” Liam yelled. He high-fived Phillip.
But the scoring threat wasn’t over yet. The next batter singled, putting runners on first and second. Then the one after that struck out to end the inning.
West 2, Northwest 0.
West widened the gap in the third thanks to more solid hits. Dom got on with a single. James Thrasher hit Dom to second but was thrown out at first. Matt knocked in Dom with an RBI double. Rodney walked, but Christopher flied out. Mason hit an impressive line drive, which had both Matt and Rodney crossing home plate. Then Nate struck out to end West’s rally.
Northwest managed to put one run on the board in the bottom of the inning, but that was all.
West 5, Northwest 1.
Both teams made substitutions in the top of the fourth. Northwest put a new pitcher on the mound. Although he walked Cole, in for Luis, he struck out Carmen, who had taken Elton’s place on the mound.
Then Dom singled, sending Cole all the way to third. Phillip was up next, having come in for James. After six pitches, he drew a walk.
Bases loaded, one out.
Matt popped a foul ball behind home plate. The catcher leaped to his feet, tearing off his mask. He twisted around and made the catch. Even though Liam was disappointed for Matt, he had to admire the catcher’s heads-up play.
Bases loaded, two outs.
“Run on anything!” Coach Driscoll yelled, clapping as Rodney approached the batter’s box.
Rodney watched the first pitch go by for strike one. He swung at the second.
Ping! It was a long ball in the air, heading for deep left field!
“It’s a homer! It’s a homer!” Liam cried excitedly.
The runners barreled around the bases—only to slow to a stop when the Northwest outfielder made the catch.
WEST 5, NORTHWEST 1, the scoreboard read when Northwest came up to bat in the bottom of the fourth—and that’s how it stayed thanks to superb pitching from Carmen.
Liam, in for Christopher, congratulated the hurler in the dugout. Then he put on a batting helmet and selected a bat.
“You got this, Liam,” Dom shouted, a cry picked up by the other boys.
As Liam strode to the plate, he glanced at the pitcher, a pleasant boy he had enjoyed chatting with on the plane ride from California. He wasn’t thinking about that when he got into his stance, though. The only thing on his mind was getting a hit.
The first pitch came zipping in. Liam liked the looks of it. He swung.
Ping! His bat connected with the ball for a sizzling grounder toward third. Liam sped to first—and beat the throw!
Mason got a hit, too, but unfortunately, his wasn’t as strong. To make matters worse, he stumbled a little as he started toward first. The shortstop scooped up the ball and threw Liam out at second. The second baseman relayed to first, catching Mason a few steps shy of the bag. When Nate struck out, the inning was over.
“Rats!” Mason said in the dugout. “I can’t believe I tripped. That was totally embarrassing.”
“Hey, don’t sweat it, man,” Liam said. “We’ve all done it!”
“Yeah, but not in the World Series.” Mason hurried, head down, onto the field.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Liam caught up to him. “First of all, everyone makes outs. Second of all, stop thinking about this as the World Series! Think about it like it’s just another game. Okay?”
Mason looked up. He gave a small smile and then nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Liam.”
“You bet! Now let’s win this game!”
Northwest didn’t score in the bottom of the fifth. West didn’t add runs their last turn up, either. In the bottom of the sixth and with the game on the line, Northwest put a run over to make it West 5, Northwest 2. They came close to posting another with a high fly to the outfield. Matt called for it, raced the short distance to get under it, and—
“Yes!” Liam murmured under his breath when Matt slapped his hand over the ball in his glove for the final out. “We did it—and we’ll do it again! And we will go all the way!”
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Three hours after West’s victory, Mid-Atlantic took to the field for its game against Midwest. The Midwesterners hailed from a small town in South Dakota called Triumph, a fact that had spawned such headlines as TRIUMPH TRIUMPHANT IN REGIONALS!, OTHER TEAMS “TRI” BUT LACK “UMPH”!, and the most recent one: WILL TRIUMPH TRIUMPH AT WORLD SERIES?
“Only time will tell,” Ash had declared with a snort when he saw the headline.
The game started at eight o’clock Friday night. A full moon shone above Lamade, its silvery face like a beacon in the darkening sky. Below, the brilliant stadium lights illuminated the bright green grass, white lines, and red-brown base paths of the field. The muggy August weather was a little cooler than it had been when the sun was out, but not by much. By the time warm-ups were through, the players’ hair and jerseys were damp with sweat.
Coach Filbert pointed the boys to a watercooler when they returned to the dugout. “Drink up, drink up.”
Carter grabbed a cup of water. He wasn’t starting, but he listened as Coach Harrison went through the lineup one last time: Stephen at second base, Keith at first. Craig in right field, Ash in center field, Charlie M. in left. Allen was at third and Raj was at shortstop. Luke was on the mound with Ron catching. That was the batting order, too, at least for the first innings. Carter knew it would change a bit when he and the other substitutes got in.
That time came at the top of the fourth. Mid-Atlantic was up, 3–1. The score might have looked a little different, however, if not for a few well-executed plays by the Pennsylvania team in the first half of the game.
In the bottom of the second, Midwest had had runners on first and second. There were two outs. The next batter knocked a grounder that bounced past Raj Turner. Charlie M. raced in from left field, scooped up the ball, and made a pinpoint throw to Allen Avery to nail the lead runner at third. The scoring threat was erased, and the inning was over.
Raj gave a great defensive effort himself in the third inning. This time, Midwest had a runner at second with no outs. The batter socked a sizzling drive back to the mound. Luke stuck out his glove but clipped the ball instead of catching it. Quick as a cat, Raj darted forward and snared the ball before it hit the ground. He whirled around, prepared to throw if the runner had moved off the bag. The runner wisely stayed put, only to see his chances of reaching home vanish when the next two batters struck out.
Unfortunately, Mid-Atlantic didn’t add any runs in the top of the fourth.
“Stop ’em!” Ash hollered from the dugout as Charlie S. replaced him in center field. Peter trotted to the mound to take Luke’s place, while Freddie hurried to second to take over for Stephen. Carter gave Ash a thumbs-up and headed to the hot corner, where he was subbing for Allen.
The first Midwest batter strode to the plate. A burly boy with a broad, round face and deep-set eyes, he hit a short grounder just inside the first-base line. Keith must have thought it was going foul, because he hesitated before lunging toward it. He was too late. The runner made it safely to first despite a quick pickup and throw from right fielder Craig.
The next batter hit a dribbler toward first. He was thrown out, but the runner reached second. The third Midwest hitter grounded to Raj. Raj checked the runner at second and then threw to first. But the batter reached the bag a split second before the ball. There were runners on first and s
econd and still one out.
Carter shifted from foot to foot and bounced on his toes. His heart drummed out a fast beat. Stop ’em! Stop ’em! Stop ’em! it seemed to repeat.
Ping!
The fourth batter sent a short pop fly arcing just out of Raj’s reach. Luckily, Ash swooped in and nabbed the ball before it hit the ground.
“Out!” the umpire cried.
The next hitter pinged the ball knee-high toward third base. Carter moved to meet it. The ball dropped and hit the ground in front of him. He snatched it on the hop and whirled around. Charlie M. was covering third. Carter whipped the ball to him. Whap! It struck Charlie M.’s glove and stuck there.
“Out!”
Carter pumped his fist once and let out a huge sigh of relief as he hustled off the field.
In the dugout, Coach Harrison was beaming. “Excellent teamwork, boys, just excellent! Now let’s add a few runs to our side, huh?” He called out the new batting order, changed slightly from the start because of the substitutions made.
Carter, batting in the sixth slot and due up fourth that inning, hoped to help do just that. Instead, coming to bat with the bases loaded and no outs, he sent the ball sky high, right above the catcher. The catcher whipped off his mask and held up his glove. The ball landed safe, sound, and snug in the pocket—and Carter headed back to the bench.
Raj wasn’t any more successful. He watched two pitches go by and fanned at the third.
“I didn’t see one I liked,” Raj said morosely as he took a seat on the bench.
Luckily, Peter, up next, did. Pow! Bat met ball for a low-flying drive that fell between the right and center fielders. While the outfielders moved to recover the ball, Craig dashed home from third, followed closely by Charlie S. Charlie M. stayed at third as Peter slid safely into second.
“My turn!” Ron said, hurrying to the plate. But to his obvious dismay, he popped out to end the inning.
Mid-Atlantic 5, Midwest 1.
“Two more innings, boys. We just have to hold them for two more innings!” Coach Harrison cried, his eyes snapping with excitement.
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