Tagged Out

by Joyce Grant

  “I . . . hear . . . you,” puffed Tami.

  The coach was standing at second base, watching with a keen eye. “As a group!” Coop shouted to them. “We run as a team!”

  Jock was well in the lead but he pretended not to hear the coach. He even sped up a little. He touched the second and third fence posts before anyone else and headed back toward the others, who were still on their last pole. When he’d finished, Coop strode over to him.

  “You’re new so you don’t know, but part of the reason we run the poles is to work together as a team,” Coop explained. “We play together and we all run together.”

  Jock shrugged and ran to get his glove.

  5

  Short Bench

  After poles, the coach put the team through fly-ball and grounder drills. But it wasn’t a good day for the Blues. Balls were flying everywhere, bouncing randomly and rarely caught. It wasn’t long before the team had broken out ice packs and the bench looked like a hospital emergency room. In the dugout, players moaned, iced swollen limbs and compared bruises.

  The players who weren’t hurt stayed on the field and kept practising.

  “Man, I hate the Pirates,” Gnash said to Lin, the team’s right fielder.

  “Yeah, Parkhill sucks,” said Lin.

  “Money,” sneered Gnash, punching his fist in his glove. “Those kids think they’re better than us.”

  “Those stupid white uniforms,” said Lin. “They probably get their maids to wash ’em after every game.”

  “Even their maids probably have maids,” said Gnash.

  “I heard their water bottles are filled with Perrier,” said Lin.

  “Yeah. Someone told me they have gourmet pizza at their practices,” added Gnash, punching his glove again.

  The two turned to look as the Pirates’ huge black SUVs began pulling into the parking lot at the top of the hill. Players jumped out and came charging down the hillside toward the Visitor dugout. They hung up their matching baseball bags along its back fence.

  Lin and Gnash watched as the Pirates joked with each other while they grabbed their equipment for their warm-up.

  Meanwhile, on the other side of the diamond, the Blues’ dugout looked like a scene from a zombie movie. There were almost as many parents as players on the bench, mopping at scrapes and applying cold packs.

  Coach Coop called the rest of the team in from the field.

  “Kids, I’m not gonna lie,” he said. “That warm-up hurt us. We’ve got a short bench now. In fact, I’m going to have to do a head count.”

  Coop went into the dugout. Gnash watched him approach the moaning players. After Coop had gone down the line, he came back to the infield.

  “Jock,” he said, “Can you suit up?”

  The teammates looked at each other in surprise.

  “Coach, we’ve barely even practised with him,” blurted Tami. “We haven’t even decided what position he’s gonna play!”

  “Well, it’s not like we have a choice,” said Coop. “We’re short two players — Jock brings us up to eight, and that’s the minimum. So either he plays or we forfeit. What do you guys wanna do?”

  The teammates looked toward where the Pirates were warming up. Normally, most of the diamond space at Christie Pits was shaded in the late afternoon. But today, a shaft of golden sunlight was shining right on the Pirates. It made their white uniforms glow.

  The Blues turned to look at their own dugout. It was dark and dusty and littered with crushed pop cans and candy wrappers.

  “Besides,” said the coach, trying to draw the team’s attention back to the field, “Jock knows what he’s doing. Right, Jock?”

  Jock was standing at the back of the pack, and all eyes turned to him.

  “Whatever — it doesn’t matter to me, I’m fine,” he said. And then he added, “Wait, I don’t have a jersey.”

  “You can use your old jersey — it’s blue,” said Coop. “Just turn it inside-out until we can get you one of ours. Go see one of our parents and they’ll get you fixed up.”

  Jock jogged to the dugout. One of the dads loudly ripped off a piece of grey duct tape and stuck it onto the back of Jock’s inside-out shirt. “Now you’re number one,” he told Jock. “It’s the easiest number to make out of duct tape.”

  Coop looked at the rest of the team. “Let’s just try and keep it together,” he said, in his most encouraging voice. “It’s going to be a tough one, but let’s just try and get through it — together. Remember, we’re a team, no matter what. Stay positive, and let’s just get through this.”

  “On four!” cried Sebastian, jumping to his feet.

  All the players stood in a circle and stuck their hands into the centre. “ONE-TWO-THREE, GO BLUES!” they shouted, and ran to the dugout. The Blues collected their gear and took one last swig of water before the game.

  The coach called out their positions, and everyone waited to hear where Jock would be playing.

  “We’re going to try Jock out in a couple of different spots,” said Coop. “This inning, Jock, try shortstop.”

  Gnash’s face darkened. “What the he—” he started to say.

  “Just for this inning,” said Coop. “You play centre field, Gnash. C’mon, you’ve got wheels!”

  Coop might have been telling Gnash he was fast, but that didn’t change the fact that he was replacing him. Gnash headed to the outfield, shooting a fierce look at Jock, who was already in position at shortstop, looking around for a baseball to warm up with.

  ***

  By the top of the fifth inning, the score wasn’t as bad as the Blues had feared. Even Gnash had to admit that it was mostly because of Jock. Every throw Jock made was hard and accurate. Plus, not a single ball had gotten by him, no matter what position he was playing.

  “It’s like the kid has a magnet in his glove,” said Sebastian after one particularly awe-inspiring catch.

  “Yeah, and the ball is made of metal,” added the other team’s coach, with a smile that didn’t hide his envy. “Got to hand it to you guys. I don’t know how you got him, but that kid’s amazing.”

  “We pay him a lot,” Sebastian joked. “Of course, it’s in sunflower seeds, but still.”

  The other team’s coach chuckled and returned to his own dugout.

  The score was 7–6 for the Pirates, and Coop called out to Jock to switch to centre field. “Gnash, come back in to short,” he yelled.

  As the boys passed each other, Gnash glared at Jock. “Thanks for keeping my spot warm,” he said.

  “Yeah, no problem,” said Jock. “Just make sure it stays that way. Then maybe we’ve got a chance against these guys, eh? ’Course, that would mean you’d have to actually hit a ball this inning. Think you could try that?”

  While Gnash had struck out three times so far, Jock had been responsible for four of the Blues’ six runs. He’d belted two homers and hit two scoring doubles that the Pirates’ outfielders couldn’t even touch.

  Gnash growled and turned away, his face red, as he struggled to think of a comeback.

  The boys took their positions as a short girl with a half-shaved haircut stepped into the box. She was a heavy hitter and one of the strongest players in the league.

  “Back up, everyone,” Coop yelled to his outfielders.

  The batter planted her feet and squinted at Raj on the mound. She raised her bat and, as the ball came in, cracked it with all of her might. The sound of the ball hitting the aluminum bat echoed across the Pits. The soccer players two fields over turned to look for the source of the sound.

  The girl took off toward first as the ball sailed toward centre field. It was going so fast it seemed to pick up speed the higher it went. She touched first and was rounding second before the ball had even begun its descent.

  “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” yelled Gnash, waving off Jock. />
  “You don’t ‘got it,’” said Jock, watching as Gnash zig-zagged around, trying to position himself underneath the ball. It soared up and up until it was nearly lost in the pale blue sky.

  “Get back,” Jock directed Gnash. “You need to get back a lot farther!”

  “I’ve got it!” cried Gnash again, wildly waving his arm to push Jock away. The other players watched to see whether Gnash would be able to catch the ball. But by the time Gnash’s brain told him that he needed to run farther back and Gnash’s legs agreed to do the job, it was too late. His momentum was pushing him forward but the ball was arcing backward. The ball headed toward a spot twenty-five feet past where Gnash was weaving. He was left lurching, open-mouthed and red-faced, with his glove up in the air. As the ball floated past him, Gnash’s expression changed from surprise to disappointment. And then it turned to anger when he spotted Jock, perfectly positioned in the ball’s landing spot.

  “I told you that you weren’t going back far enough,” Jock said over his shoulder, as he easily caught the ball. In the same motion, he brought his other hand up to his glove, plucked the ball out and threw it straight to Raj on the mound. There was a loud snap as it landed in the pitcher’s glove.

  “Yerrrrrr out!” said the umpire, as the batter skidded to a stop near third base. She looked stunned that her huge bomb had been caught.

  As she walked back to her dugout, cheers and applause for Jock’s catch burst from the Blues’ bench. However, the voices died down as the Blues began to pick up on Gnash’s anger.

  Soon, the crunch of shoes on the dry infield dirt and far-off curses and laughter from the soccer players were the only sounds in the Pits.

  Coop took off his baseball cap and ran his fingers through his sweaty faux-hawk. Then he tamped the cap back down onto his head.

  In a sudden outburst, Gnash angrily threw his glove onto the ground. He wound up his foot and gave the glove a kick that sent it flying toward third base.

  “Seriously?” asked Jock. And then he added in a squeaky sing-song taunt, “and is that how we treat our equipment?”

  “Shut up!” yelled Gnash, his face beet red. “Shut up! Shut up!”

  Gnash launched himself toward the taller boy, charging at him with his head down like an angry goat. Jock was caught off-guard by the attack. Soon he was on his back with his glove over his face, covered by Gnash who was landing blows anywhere he could find a soft spot.

  The dugout cleared as the entire team ran to pull the boys apart. Each player grabbed a limb or a piece of jersey and yelled at the two to stop fighting.

  It was a long time before the players’ voices lost their frantic edge, but eventually the scene faded into two camps. Each clump of kids held one of the combatants at its centre.

  Jock was doubled over with his arms wrapped around his stomach. “I think you broke a rib, you stupid orangutan!” he shouted at Gnash.

  Gnash, blotchy-faced and puffing, hadn’t given up. He flailed his arms, desperately trying to reach Jock.

  “Yeah, well, at least I’m not . . . I’m not . . . gay!” he yelled through the tangle of teammates holding him back. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “You’re totally gay!” He looked triumphantly around at his teammates.

  Jock’s head was down and his shoulders began to shake. Raj put his arm protectively around the boy’s shoulders.

  “C’mon, leave him alone,” Raj said to Gnash.

  Jock’s shoulders shook more heavily and, still doubled over, he began to blubber.

  “Wait . . . wait . . .” he huffed, between spasms, “that’s . . .”

  Jock stood up. He was laughing!

  “That’s . . .” he sputtered, “that’s the best you can do? ‘You’re gay’?” Jock took a deep breath. “Uh, yeah, and you’re . . . Italian! You moron, I know I’m gay. Everyone knows I’m gay. When I made all-star, the newspaper wrote an article that said I’m gay! It’s not a secret. And by the way, it’s the twenty-first century — gay is not an insult. It’s the way I was born.” Jock was still laughing, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. They glinted with anger.

  “On the other hand,” he added, his smile fading, “how’d you become such a loser? Were you born that way — or do you have to work at it?”

  Gnash stopped fighting the kids holding him back. He stared at Jock. Gnash knew he’d just been insulted, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on how.

  “Wow,” said Jock, looking around at the team. “Just . . . wow. You guys are even lamer than I thought you were.”

  Jock roughly shook the players’ hands off him and broke through the circle. He walked toward left field, the way he and Coop had first come to the ball diamond. As he passed Coop, he hissed, “I told you this would happen.”

  Coop watched Jock walk away. Then he strode to home plate. Through clenched teeth he said to the umpire, “We forfeit.”

  6

  Coop’s Break-Up

  At school the next day, Raj and Gnash leaned against the wall near French class. They watched Sebastian frantically searching through the rubble of school supplies and books in his locker.

  “It was here before, I know it was,” said Sebastian. “I’ve got to find it! Ah . . . voila!” he said, triumphantly, holding his French textbook in the air.

  “I’ve never seen Coop so angry,” said Raj.

  “I know,” said Sebastian, tucking the book under his arm. He began rifling through his locker for his binder. “How long were we at the diamond last night?”

  “I think Coop stopped yelling around . . . maybe 8:15?”

  “Naw, it had to be later than that,” said Gnash. “The streetlights had been on for, like, an hour.”

  “He was apoplectic,” said Raj.

  “He sure was,” said Sebastian. “Assuming that means ‘angry.’”

  “It does,” said Raj. “Really angry.”

  Gnash looked grim. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what he was steamed about,” he said. “That . . . American guy . . . started it!”

  Raj grabbed Sebastian’s French binder from the top shelf of his locker and passed it to him. “But we deserved everything Coop dished out,” Raj said.

  “No. I agree with Gnash,” said Sebastian. “It didn’t make any sense. What did we do? Tried to save two kids from beating each other to death? Tried to win against those lousy rich snobs? Coop was totally out of line, yelling at us like that.”

  Gnash nodded.

  “Hmm,” said Raj. “Do you think maybe you guys missed the point of Coop’s lecture last night?”

  “Actually, I’ve been thinking about it,” said Sebastian, wrinkling his forehead. “I figured maybe Coop broke up with his girlfriend. Don’t you think that would make him pretty angry? But that’s not our fault!”

  Tami and Lin joined them. “Has anyone seen Jock today?” Tami asked.

  “Nope,” said Raj. “And I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t come to school today.”

  “Me either,” said Tami. “I feel sick about what happened.”

  “Why, you heard about Coop’s girlfriend?” asked Sebastian.

  Tami turned to the catcher. “Coop’s girlfriend?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” said Raj with a laugh. “Apparently that’s why Coop was so mad last night — at least, according to Sebastian. He must have broken up with his girlfriend.”

  “Oh, right,” said Lin. “It probably had nothing to do with us outing a guy and telling everyone he’s gay. Or talking about him behind his back. Or starting a fist fight at centre field.” She looked pointedly at Gnash.

  Gnash turned away.

  “Yeah, or possibly making us lose one of the best players we’ve ever had,” added Raj.

  Sebastian scratched his head. “Hey, are you guys being sarcastic?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sebastian! Yes, we are!” Tami said, exasperated. “
Sometimes you can be totally dense!”

  “But you’ve got to give Jock credit,” said Lin. “That was a pretty awesome response, eh? He basically told you where to go, Gnash!”

  Gnash stiffened as Raj laughed and said, “Yeah, remember when we all thought he was crying his head off?”

  “And then he comes up laughing?” said Tami. “That was classic!”

  “I have to go to class,” grumbled Gnash, pushing himself off from the wall.

  “I guess they’re more casual in New Jersey about being gay,” said Sebastian. “I mean, being gay’s not a good thing, right? Right?”

  “Holy cow, Sebastian, what’s the matter with you?” Tami laughed and shoved Sebastian in the direction Gnash was walking.

  “Just go to class!” she and Lin said, almost in unison.

  “Listen, Sebastian,” Raj called after him. “We want Jock on our team and that’s all you need to know.”

  Sebastian stopped and nodded his head slowly. “Yeah. We did nearly win that game because of him. He was amazing.”

  ***

  The first day back on the field for the Blues after the dust-up between Gnash and Jock was the following Sunday. Coop had called a practice before their game against the Etobicoke Reds.

  One of the boys nodded hello to Gnash as he stormed by them to hang his bag on the back fence of the dugout. He ignored the greeting and sifted through his bag for his glove.

  Coop called the players out onto the field.

  “I want you guys to run some poles and then line up for throwing,” he said in a quiet voice — at least, quiet for Coop. “Go.”

  The players looked at each other. “Coop,” said Sebastian, “Uh . . .”

  “What?” asked Coop grimly.

  “Uh . . . uh . . .” And then Sebastian brightened. “How’s your weekend been going so far, man?”

  Coop stared at Sebastian in disbelief. The players held their breath.

  Coop took one look at Sebastian’s broad, cheesy grin and burst out laughing.

  “Get out there, you guys — go do your poles!” he barked with a grin. Everyone ran toward the outfield.