by Joyce Grant
Most of the team jogged off. Raj stayed behind, pulling Coop and Gnash aside.
“Listen,” he said. “What do you think the chances are that Jock will come back to the team?”
“I talked to him yesterday,” said Coop, “and I talked to his mom. It wasn’t good. They were both pretty upset. Apparently he’s been getting messed around at school by some kids. And the way we were treating him on top of that . . . he basically told me that he doesn’t want to be on a team where he doesn’t feel welcome.”
“Yeah, I saw some of that at school,” said Raj. “Did he tell you who’s been pushing him around?”
“No,” said Coop. “Does it really matter, though? I mean, this kid is an amazing athlete and look at all the crap he has to put up with!”
“Yeah, it sucks,” said Raj.
“Humph,” Gnash grunted. He snatched his batting gloves from the dugout floor and shoved them into his back pocket.
“Anyway, I did my best,” said Coop. “I told him and his mom that I had talked to the team. But I’m not sure that everyone fully understands what the problem is, do you?”
“Maybe some of the kids just need to know Jock a bit better,” said Raj, looking off at the horizon around the field. “I think Jock’s a pretty good guy — even if he maybe isn’t the easiest guy to get along with. And he’s, like, crazy good at baseball.”
Gnash’s face darkened.
“Well, that’s the other thing,” said Coop. “Back home, this kid wasn’t just an all-star, he was his league’s MVP. We’re lucky that he moved to Toronto and that he wants to play with us. But all of that means nothing if our team can’t get along. I mean, I know you guys are just kids and all, but geez . . . the bunch of you need to grow up, eh?” He smiled a little and Raj stepped out to join in running the poles.
Raj turned around. “So do you think he’ll come back?” he asked.
Gnash brushed by him on his way out to the field.
“I sure hope so,” said Coop. “Our guys aren’t bad kids, just maybe a bit . . . uninformed. I still think we can work it out.”
“At least,” he added, “I sure hope so.”
7
Second Chance
The Blues needed a win, and not just for their standings in the league — the Blues were locked in a friendly, long-standing rivalry with Etobicoke.
“And the rivalry continues!” said Sebastian with a loud, dramatic flourish.
“Yep,” said Miguel. “I’m sick of tying these guys!”
“Hey, the difference between a tie and a win is one run,” said Coop. “Just one. So c’mon! Let’s go!”
“Yeah,” called Sebastian, taking up the charge. “Three up, three down!”
That did it. Instantly, there was an answering chorus of “Three up, three down!” and “Who is fired up? We are fired up!” The din coming from the Blues’ bench echoed across the Pits.
“Okay, okay, guys, now let’s focus on the game,” said Coop. “Here’s what I want you to remember out there. Ready positions — I don’t want to see anyone lazing around in the outfield. As soon as that batter walks out there, you should be in your ready position. Got that?”
There were murmurs of agreement from the players.
“And don’t forget to shift. If it’s a right-handed batter, where do we go?”
“Righty-shift!” yelled the players together.
“Exactly. Watch me for the signs, but you should be shifting before I even have to tell you,” said Coop. “I wanna hear you talking out there, kids. Communicate. Now, hands in!”
The players each put one hand into the middle and Tami yelled, “ONE-TWO-THREE-BLUES!” The teammates cheered and ran out to take their positions.
By the top of the fourth inning the teams were in a dead heat. The Blues were playing as well as they could, but Gnash knew they were making too many errors.
“If we had Jock in the field last inning we’d be ahead by three runs,” said Tami to Lin as they sat waiting to bat. “They had two guys in scoring position and we missed that fly ball.”
“Yeah,” agreed Lin, in a low voice. “She’d have been out and we’d be ahead because Jock would have caught that one. Actually, we could use him in the line-up, too — right now. We need a run.”
At the end of the bench, Gnash scowled. He was still having trouble figuring out where to move for fly balls. More than once, balls that he should have caught had gotten by him. He thought about Jock telling him to get back farther and, although he didn’t like to admit it, it was a good strategy. But it was hard, when the ball was coming high and fast and every eye was on him. His glove seemed to shrink to an impossibly small size and the ball got lost against the clouds. Sometimes he could swear it seemed to change direction before it got to him.
Gnash was even more tense as he took his place in the on-deck circle. His eyebrows knitted together as he watched the Reds’ pitcher throw his warm-up pitches. As each pitch went over the plate, Gnash took a hard practice swing, timing it as if he was at the plate.
By the time he heard the Reds’ catcher cry “second base, coming down!” Gnash was ready. He looked over at Coop, who gave him the sign for take. He shook his head at the coach. Coop gave him the take sign again, this time with more energy. Gnash shook his head again and then turned away to step into the batter’s box.
What was Coop thinking? He couldn’t just let the first pitch go by without at least trying to hit it.
When the ball came toward Gnash, it looked to him like low-hanging fruit. He swung. But the ball was lower than he thought, and outside. Although he made a solid cut, the ball loped high into the air over the right fielder, who caught it easily.
“Catch!” yelled the ump.
***
Two days later, the team was back at the Pits to warm up before another game against the Reds.
It wasn’t until the team was on their fourth pole that Gnash glanced up the steep hill to the sidewalk, where he saw the coach talking to Jock. A tall, elegant-looking woman, who Gnash guessed was Jock’s mother, was with them.
“Hey.” Gnash nudged Raj and Tami, as the three of them jogged at the back of the pack. “Check that out.”
Raj craned his neck to see where Gnash was pointing.
“That doesn’t look too good,” said Tami.
“No, it’s good, it’s good,” said Raj, between strides. “If Jock wasn’t coming back to the team, he wouldn’t have come here, would he?”
“I guess not,” puffed Tami. She snorted and launched a mouthful of spit onto the ground beside them. “Yeah, you’re right, actually. He would have just never showed up again.”
By now, all of the teammates had noticed the conference taking place at the top of the hill. They slowed down to a walk. All heads turned to the scene. No one said a word.
Finally, Gnash said, “Huh. What a loser.”
Raj had had enough. “Gnash!” he said, exasperated.
“What?” said Gnash gruffly. “You taking his side now? The guy’s a jerk!”
“Well, he’s an all-star jerk, then,” said Raj. “He’s an MVP jerk. He’s the kind of jerk this team could use!” Raj threw his hands up in the air and said, “Why do we have to take sides, Gnash? What’s your problem with him, anyway? You don’t even know this guy. You know absolutely nothing about him. Nothing!”
“I know that he’s gay,” sneered Gnash.
“Keep talking, Gnash. Keep saying that word. Maybe one day it won’t sound like an insult coming out of your mouth.” Raj began to walk away. Then he turned back suddenly. “Look, you guys, I know that Jock’s maybe not the friendliest guy we’ve ever met. But don’t you think we should at least give him a fair shot? If for no other reason than he’s probably the best player we’ve ever seen . . . maybe the best player this league has ever seen . . . and he’s willing to play for us?”
&
nbsp; “Well, wait,” said Sebastian, scratching his head under his baseball cap. Sweat streamed down his face. “If he wants to play for us . . . doesn’t that just show that this guy has, like, poor judgment?”
Everyone on the team turned and stared at Sebastian in silence. Sebastian blinked.
And then Raj burst out laughing. Gnash stopped walking and started laughing, too, dropping his forehead onto his palm. The entire team was soon in stitches over Sebastian’s take on the situation. Sebastian looked around at his teammates, his face confused. Then he joined in, too.
Still chuckling, Raj began sprinting up the hill. “Oh man,” he laughed. “Sebastian!”
Gnash watched Raj dash up the hill until he reached Jock. Coop and Jock’s mother were a few metres away, talking together.
Gnash couldn’t hear what Raj was saying to Jock up on the sidewalk. He supposed the pitcher was trying to persuade Jock to rejoin the team.
Gnash was just about to turn away, when he saw Jock grab Raj’s arm. Gnash watched as Jock pulled Raj toward him and suddenly, the American was kicking Raj’s foot.
“What the—?” muttered Gnash, watching the strange scene. “Hey, guys,” he said, motioning for them to come over. “I think that new kid is attacking Raj!”
8
Fooled on the Hill
The rest of the Blues watched in disbelief as Jock pulled Raj close and held one of his arms behind his back.
“Oh my god, he’s putting the moves on him!” said Sebastian, his voice becoming shrill with fear.
“We’ve got to do something,” said Lin, coming up behind Gnash and Sebastian.
But Gnash was already headed up the hill as fast as he could go. He charged toward his best friend and the attacker. As he struggled up the steep incline, he called out to Jock, “Hey, freak! Get away from him!”
Sebastian followed closely behind Gnash, with the rest of the team on their tails. They climbed the slope as fast as they could, slipping on the tall weeds and loose dirt as they fought to get to the top.
Gnash was the first to reach the two boys.
“Hey! Get off him!” Gnash panted. He grabbed Jock’s hand and roughly tore it away from Raj’s arm.
Jock’s mother and Coop ran over to where the boys were yelling.
“Hey, hey, what’s going on here?” asked Coop, holding on to the back of Gnash’s jersey.
“He’s attacking Raj!” Sebastian said, pointing at Jock. The rest of the teammates chimed in, backing up Sebastian and trying to make Coop see how dangerous the situation was.
“Hold on, hold on,” said Raj, holding up his hands. “He was just giving me a couple of pointers!”
“He was giving him pointers, too!” said Sebastian, his eyes wide with alarm.
“Pointers, Sebastian — you know, pitching advice.”
“Huh?” said Sebastian. He was still puffing from the exertion of his jog up the hill.
“You idiots are way outta line,” said Raj. “He was helping me with my pitching stance. Look!”
Raj held a ball in one of his hands and shifted his front foot. “Jock was saying that whenever I take my stride, my front foot sticks out toward the third-base line. He said it needs to be pointing toward the plate more.”
Jock came over and kicked Raj’s front toe over, straighter.
“Like that,” said Jock.
“See?” said Raj.
Jock looked over at the group of Blues and smiled.
“What’s your problem?” asked Gnash. “Is something funny?”
“Oh, come on, Gnash. It’s funny!” said Jock. “You thought I was trying to . . . what? Come on to Raj? Sebastian — you actually thought I would attack him?”
“Well, from down there, it looked like you had him in a hug or something,” grumbled Gnash, a little uncertainly. “And we definitely saw you kick him. You can’t deny that you kicked him!”
“Yeah, and I just did it again right in front of you, you jerks,” said Jock. “Look, I’m not evil and I’m sure not hitting on Raj. And, before you accuse me of it, I’m also not trying to hit on you — trust me, you’re not my type. So can we just get past all this crap and play some frigging baseball?”
“Oh, man,” said Raj. “I had just convinced him to play for us again when you morons came up here. We’re lucky that he thinks this is funny.”
“Yeah, and that he doesn’t sue us,” said Sebastian. “My dad says Americans will sue at the drop of a — hey!”
Tami shoved Sebastian so hard his legs flew out from under him.
“What did you do that for?” he said, scrambling awkwardly to his feet.
“Let’s just say it was . . . pre-emptive,” said Tami.
“Well, I should sue you!” said Sebastian.
Gnash saw Jock and his mother talking together. She finally nodded and gave her son a quick hug.
Coop took out his cell phone and glanced at the time. “Look, we still have forty minutes before the game. C’mon, guys,” he said. “Let’s get back down there and finish our warm-up.”
Most of the Blues turned and began to sprint back down the hill.
Jock walked over to Raj and Gnash and the three of them made their way down the hill together.
“Listen, Jock,” said Raj as they trudged down the incline toward the field.
“Yeah?” asked Jock.
“I wonder if you could do something for me,” said Raj.
“What’s that?” asked Jock, instantly wary.
“Maybe you could give the guys a bit of a break?”
“What? Me give them a break?”
“Yeah,” said Raj.
“What, like, you want me to suck up to them?” asked Jock, his eyes widening.
“Well, no, not suck up,” said Raj.
“Make nice,” said Jock, pursing his lips together.
“Yeah, I guess so,” said Raj.
“They’ve kind of been jerky to me, you know,” said Jock, looking at Gnash. Gnash kept his head down, his eyes shielded underneath his baseball cap.
“I know,” agreed Raj. “Even so.”
“Even so.”
“Thanks,” said Raj.
9
Seeing Red
Forty minutes later, the team was in place on the field. It was the top of the first inning in the second game against the Reds. Raj was standing on the pitcher’s mound. He was about to pitch against his second batter. Gnash watched him step off the rubber to dust his hands with the white mesh chalk bag next to the mound. He clapped it between his hands, creating a puffy white cloud.
Raj settled back on his heels and took a look around. The first Reds batter had made it to second and was threatening to take third.
Raj ignored him and grimly stepped back onto the mound. He twisted the toes of his right shoe back and forth, digging it into the dirt next to the rubber. “Toward the plate,” Gnash heard him say. “Left foot points toward the plate.”
The batter was a lanky boy Gnash knew well. He was the kind of kid who could make it to first before anyone, even Jock, would be able to stop him.
Gnash waited to see what kind of pitch Raj would choose. If the kid even got a piece of it, there’d be a man on first.
Sebastian was squatting over the plate with his glove held up facing Raj. He flashed the signal for an inside fastball.
“Just hit the target,” Raj muttered, and he wound up. “Left foot straight . . . FOR-ward!” He launched the ball toward the batter, fast and hard and perfectly over the plate just on the inside. The batter swung lamely, well after the ball had already passed him.
“Steeeeee-rike!” the umpire called, pumping his fist.
It wasn’t until the second pitch had left Raj’s hand that Gnash noticed Raj hadn’t positioned his front foot. It was pointing the wrong way. The ball didn’t go where it was su
pposed to. Another wounded soldier took a base, rubbing his thigh muscle where the ball had hit him.
Now there was a man on third and a man on first.
Raj stepped off again.
No one was surprised when Coop called a time-out and headed out to speak with Raj. But the team was surprised when Jock came jogging in to join the conversation. Jock got to Raj before Coop did and Gnash and the other infielders joined them on the mound.
“Don’t worry about it so much, Raj,” said Jock.
“What do you mean?” asked Raj.
“Hitting the batter. Don’t worry about it so much. Everyone knows you’re not hitting the batter on purpose. And anyway, hitting that last guy wasn’t a bad idea — if he’d gotten a piece of the ball, it would’ve gone out to centre field at least. Anyway, just focus on the target, remember your feet and relax.”
“Thanks, Jock — ahem,” said Coop, interrupting. “I can handle it from here, if you don’t mind. Everyone, go back to your spots.” No one listened to the coach and the mound remained piled with Blues. Even some of the outfielders came in to listen to the conversation.
“It’s true, though, Raj,” said Coop. “Listen, you have one of the lowest Earned Run Averages our team has ever seen. You’re a good pitcher, we all know that.”
The players on the mound nodded in support.
“You don’t have to prove anything, and you sure as heck don’t have to worry about nailing someone like that guy. Anyway, he was crowding the plate. Just do what you’re here to do. Do what you do,” said Coop.
“And watch your front foot!” Jock called over.
The coach headed back to his spot by the dugout.
Raj scowled and climbed the dirt. He turned and looked over at the kid on first and the boy who was now on third. It was obvious Raj wanted to get out of the inning without hitting anyone else. And he wanted his infield to get that kid on third out so he didn’t score.
Raj looked carefully down at his front foot. He took a deep breath and went into his wind-up. The fastball left his fingertips and everyone knew that it would go right where the batter didn’t want it to be. After the throw, Raj looked down at his feet again. Sure enough, his front foot was pointed straight toward the plate.