by Mike Lupica
“Yes!” Jack shouted into the phone.
“The board members I talked to seemed to understand that we weren’t trying to put one over on them,” Coach said. “And I explained this might be the best thing that ever happened to this boy.”
“Cool,” Jack said.
“You understand,” Coach said, “that playing in games, especially the kind of big games we’ve got coming up, will be a lot more challenging than playing on an empty field with the two of us. You do understand that, right?”
Jack said he did.
But when he hung up with Coach, right before he called Teddy, he thought, We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
THIRTY
With three games left in the regular season, the Rays were tied with the Rockies for the last play-off spot in the Atlantic, but still just two games out of first.
The Rays would play the Red Sox first, then the two teams ahead of them: the Rangers and the first-place White Sox. The play-offs started in ten days, if the Rays made it.
Teddy’s first game was on Saturday morning. On Friday night Jack was back coaching first for the Orioles in the six o’clock game. The Orioles were still undefeated, still rolling through their league, and were expected to keep rolling tonight, because Cassie was starting. After the game, her dad was going to drop her and Jack and Teddy at Baskin-Robbins. Gus couldn’t go; his grandparents were in town.
Jack still liked helping out with the Orioles, but they hadn’t needed much help. And even if he wasn’t still Mr. Bennett’s first-base coach, he would have wanted to be at this game. He hated to miss a game when Cassie was pitching. She really was that good.
And tonight, against the Astros, she struck out the first six batters she faced. It only made the game more exciting, because by now Jack knew this girl well. She wanted to strike out nine batters in a row the way Jack had. It was still killing her that he’d done it this season and she hadn’t.
“I am doing this,” she said to him after the bottom of the second, and both of them knew exactly what she was talking about.
Jack grinned. “Now I don’t want you overthrowing,” he said. “Putting too much pressure on the old arm.”
“You don’t want me to do it, do you?” she said. “You want to hold that over me?”
“Wait a second,” he said. “You’re the one always bringing it up. I never bring it up.”
She waggled a finger at him. “Oh, I know you,” she said. “You feeling superior is more of an unspoken thing.”
It made him laugh. “As opposed to you feeling superior being much more of a spoken thing?”
“Shut up.”
The Orioles scored five runs in the top of the third, making the score 8–0 for them. Mr. Bennett told Cassie this was her last inning. They were getting ready for the play-offs too. She went back out and struck out the first two batters in the third.
The last batter before her and her own perfect night was the Astros’ second baseman, a friend of hers from school named Mary Anne Mason. She was short, which meant a small strike zone. Jack remembered her being a tough out the first two times the teams had played.
Jack watched Cassie, struck as always by how fierce her concentration was, more now than ever. He knew how much she wanted this.
Her first two pitches to Mary Anne were called balls, even though Jack thought they both could have been strikes. Cassie’s body language told him she felt the same way.
She came back, though, and got the count to 2–2, Mary Anne swinging and missing, and then fouling a ball off.
Cassie clearly put something extra on the next pitch, not wanting the count to go full, wanting to strike out Mary Anne right here.
The pitch was clearly outside.
Three and two.
Jack understood that in an 8–0 game, this was a big moment that existed only in Cassie’s mind. He would have treated it the same way. And he was surprised at how much he wanted this for her. Maybe it was because she wanted it so much.
She went into her motion, brought her arm up and around, whipped into her underhand motion, and threw the fastest pitch she’d thrown all night, maybe all season.
Mary Anne, to her credit, knowing everybody else on her team had struck out tonight, wasn’t looking for a walk. She swung at the pitch, right down the middle of the plate.
And got just enough of a piece of it to roll the ball weakly back to Cassie.
It was probably the only time that an easy out like this would make Cassie Bennett as angry as this one clearly did. She was on the ball quickly and threw it so hard to Katie Cummings at first that Jack was afraid she might knock the glove right off Katie’s hand. But she didn’t. Inning over, Cassie’s night on the mound over.
When she came off the field, she went straight for Jack.
“Those first two pitches were strikes!” she said, keeping her voice down.
“I know.”
“Well, I hope you’re happy.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I wanted a strikeout as much as you did.”
Then, out of nowhere, Cassie smiled.
“I know you did,” she said.
The Orioles finally ending up winning the game, 11–3. An hour later Jack, Cassie, and Teddy were at a window table at Baskin-Robbins. By then Cassie had gone from being star pitcher to cheerleader, trying to pump Teddy up for his first game and make him less anxious about it at the same time.
“I know what you’re doing,” Teddy said. “I know what both of you are doing. But neither one of you has ever seen me in a real game. It’s not like I quit playing baseball in the first place because I was doing so good.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Cassie said. “You’re a different guy now.” She pointed her spoon at Jack. “He knows it. I know it. Red Sox are gonna find out tomorrow.”
“I keep telling you this,” Jack said. “If Coach didn’t think you could play, you wouldn’t be on the team.”
He tried to reach over with his spoon and get some of Cassie’s Pralines ’n Cream, thinking she wasn’t paying attention, but she blocked him with her hand.
“I told you,” she said. “I don’t share.”
“I thought you were just kidding.”
“I wasn’t.” She grinned and moved her bowl slightly closer to herself and focused on Teddy again.
“What’s the thing that scares you the most?”
“That I have a chance to screw up the team’s whole season and keep them from punching their way into the tournament for the World Series. Other than that, nothing much.”
“That’s nuts,” Jack said. “If we end up missing the play-offs by one game, it’s going to be my fault, not yours, for missing the first four games.”
Cassie whistled. It was one more thing she was really, really good at. “Wow,” she said. “This is the first pity party I’ve ever been to with ice cream, even though nothing you two are worried about has happened yet. Or is going to happen.”
“Just trust yourself the way I trust you,” Jack said.
“You’re just saying that because you have to.”
“Because I want to.”
Cassie said, “Jack has many shortcomings, just because he’s a guy. But he never lies.”
They pooled their money and paid the check and walked outside. On both sides of the street you could see kids still in their baseball uniforms, walking in packs of five or six or with their parents. Friday night in Walton. Baseball town.
Jack heard a bark of laughter from across the street, in front of Cold Stone, and saw a group of high school boys, a couple of whom he recognized.
For a moment, just a moment, Jack imagined Brad standing there with them.
He slapped Teddy on the back and said, “It’s gonna be great tomorrow.”
Teddy said, “I did sign up for this, didn’t I?”
Jack nodded and smiled, because he was hearing his brother’s voice inside his head.
“You did,” he said to Teddy Madden. “Now you gotta wear it.”
>
THIRTY-ONE
Teddy’s mom dropped him off at Jack’s house a couple of hours before the Rays’ game against the Red Sox. Jack had told Teddy they were going to have their own pregame workout before the real one at Highland Park.
When Jack opened the front door, what he saw made him smile.
Teddy had his own bat bag now. Without saying anything, he pulled out the same kind of Easton bat that Jack owned. His was just in different colors, orange and black.
“You dog!” Jack said.
“I just hope I don’t play like one.”
“You won’t.”
“I feel like it’s the first day of school,” Teddy said.
Jack pointed a finger at him. “Hey!” he said. “Do not compare baseball to school ever again.”
It got a quick smile out of Teddy, as nervous as he was acting.
“C’mon,” Jack said, leading him out to the backyard. “Let’s throw.”
As they warmed up, Jack reminded Teddy that the worst thing for a catcher—or anyone on the field, really—was to start throwing the ball around when there was no chance to get an out.
“Wasted throws become errors, and errors become cheap runs,” Jack said. “If you can see you have no shot at a guy stealing today, or trying to take an extra base, hold the ball.”
“Got it.”
“But if you do have a chance, trust it. Your arm is as good as Scott’s.”
Teddy said, “You’re sure he can’t play on a broken ankle?”
“This is gonna be great, you’ll see,” Jack said. “There’s nothing better than a big game.”
“I was pretty happy watching games from up in the stands.”
“It’s way better when you’re down on the field,” Jack said. “You helped me get back out there. Now I’m just doing the same for you.”
Jack saw his dad on the back porch, pointing at his watch. It was time to go. The two of them walked across the yard in their uniforms. Teddy looked down at the team name, written in white script across the pale blue jersey.
“I still can’t believe I’m with the Rays,” Teddy said.
“It’s even better than that,” Jack said. “You’re with me.”
“Because you’re my friend?”
“Well, yeah,” Jack said. “But mostly because I’m your starting pitcher.”
• • •
The other guys on the team were great with Teddy. From the time he’d shown up, they’d treated him like he’d been with them from the start.
Brett Hawkins was the first to come over and high-five Teddy.
“You couldn’t show up a game sooner so I didn’t look like a Bad News Bears reject?” Hawk said.
Gus said, “Just be glad he’s here now. Because our next option at catcher was going to be even more pathetic—me.”
“Whoa,” Hawk said. “You’re saying that you’re a worse catcher than I am? No way.”
Teddy sat down at the end of the bench and strapped on his shin guards for infield practice. Gregg Leonard sat on one side of him, Jerry York on the other.
Jerry pointed at the shin guards and said, “You know which side of those bad boys is supposed to be on the front of your leg, right?”
“I better,” Teddy said, “once Jack starts short-hopping fastballs to me.”
“Listen to the chirp from the new guy,” Jerry said. “He sounds ready to me.”
“Don’t worry,” Jack said. “He is.”
He hoped.
Teddy seemed to relax a little during infield practice, standing next to Coach Leonard while the coach hit ground balls, even to Jack on the pitcher’s mound. Every few minutes Coach would tell Teddy to step out in front of the plate and throw to one of the bases. Most of the throws, Jack saw, were strong and accurate.
When they came off the field, ready to start batting practice, Jack patted Teddy on the back. “You looked good out there,” he said.
“Let’s see what happens when there’s guys on the bases trying to make me look bad.”
It was when he got into the batter’s box with his brand-new bat that he looked nervous, producing a series of swings and misses, weak pop-ups, and even weaker ground balls. From the mound Coach told him to stay in there and take some extra swings. Teddy finally hit a clean single to center, and Coach told him to quit on that one.
When they were all back at the bench, Coach put his arm around Teddy and said, “You just concentrate on defense tonight, okay? Anything you give me on offense in your first game will be gravy.”
“Coach,” Teddy said, grinning at him, “can we please not talk about gravy?”
Coach laughed. So did Jack. As nervous as Teddy was, he was still Teddy.
They were just a few minutes from the top of the first, the Rays batting first today. Jack saw Cassie leaning over the fence behind the Rays’ bench, waving him and Teddy over.
“Just remember,” she said to Teddy when they got to her. “If you look good tonight, it will make me look great.”
Teddy said, “How do you figure?”
“Are you kidding?” she said. “You’re asking me that after all the instruction I’ve given you?”
“I thought Teddy and I did most of the work,” Jack said.
“Well, that’s your version,” Cassie said. “I have my own.”
“Shocker,” Jack said.
“Let’s do this for Cassie,” she said, putting up her right hand for a high five from Teddy.
“Let’s do this, period,” Teddy said.
Jack grinned at Cassie and said, “Can you believe how competitive this guy is?”
As they walked back to the field, Jack said, “We’re just going out there and playing catch.”
“Is the whole game going to be one long pep talk?” Teddy said.
“Pretty much.”
Jack turned and looked into the stands. Today Teddy’s mom was in Brad’s old spot next to Jack’s mom. Instinctively Jack reached back and felt Brad’s note, his good luck charm, in his pocket where it always was.
Big bro, he thought, today we’re going to need enough luck for two.
The Rays scored twice in the top of the first. Jack tripled home Gregg with one out, then Gus singled home Jack. Gus ended up being stranded at third. Teddy, batting ninth, would have to wait for his first at bat of the season.
Teddy was already behind the plate when Jack got to the mound. Jack took his warm-up tosses, and Teddy threw down to second. No more pep talks now. Teddy was officially on the field and in the game. It was time to play. Jack was determined to get Teddy through the early innings, no matter what. He wanted to make things as easy for him as he possibly could.
The problem was that Teddy made things hard on himself. The Red Sox leadoff hitter, Zack Claiborne, swung and missed at an 0–2 pitch. But Teddy either took his eye off the ball or just flat missed it. The ball tipped off his mitt and skipped behind him to the screen. Zack made it down to first easily.
Even with Jack pitching from the stretch, Zack got a great jump on him and stole second on the first pitch. Teddy had no chance to throw him out and wisely held the ball.
The Red Sox were clearly going to test the new guy right away. So Zack took off for third on the next pitch. Teddy made a solid throw down there, but T.W.—starting the game at third in place of Hawk, who was taking Jack’s spot at short—dropped the ball.
Jack called time and waved Teddy out to the mound.
“Sorry,” Teddy said.
Jack grinned. “Shut up,” he said. “The guy’s not scoring. I’m gonna strike out the side, and no matter what, you’re gonna catch the ball and keep it in front of you.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Jack did strike out the next two guys. He went to a full count on the Red Sox cleanup hitter, Andy Gundling. Jack threw him a screaming fastball, one that should have been a called strike three.
But Teddy missed this one too.
A lot happened next.
Teddy went for the ball, which was
rolling a few feet away from him, toward first. Zack dashed for the plate from third base. Jack ran for the plate himself but could see that he was going to be late if Teddy tried to toss him the ball.
Somehow, though, Teddy Madden was thinking like a ballplayer. Like a catcher. When he picked up the ball, he gave a quick glance at Zack and saw he had no chance to even dive at home plate and make a tag on him. Instead he turned back toward first base, threw a perfect strike to Gus, and got Andy Gundling by a stride for the third out of the inning.
When Teddy saw the field ump’s hand go up, signaling the out, Teddy made the same gesture himself. Then he took off his mask and looked at Jack and nodded. Neither one of them said a word, and neither one had to.
Now Teddy was really in the game.
THIRTY-TWO
It was still 2–0, Rays, when Henry Koepp replaced Jack on the mound in the bottom of the fourth. Teddy had struck out his first time up, swinging at a pitch that was nearly over his head. And he’d made a throwing error in the bottom of the third, throwing the ball over Hawk’s head when Zack tried to steal second. Zack took third on the play but stayed there when Jack got the next batter to ground to Gus at first.
So far, so good, Jack thought. Teddy was making normal mistakes, but none of them had cost the Rays yet.
Until the fourth.
Andy Gundling led off for the Red Sox with a home run that just cleared the leftfield fence. Kevin Malone, their catcher, singled after that. He wasn’t a fast runner, but he took off for second. Jack was at second in plenty of time to take the throw. He thought Teddy had more than enough time to throw Kevin out. Only this time Teddy held the ball when he should have thrown it. Kevin took off for third two pitches later. Teddy bounced his throw to Hawk, who made a terrific play, keeping the ball in front of them and Kevin at third.
Their next hitter hit a short fly ball to center field. Gregg Leonard came running in for the ball and caught it in stride as Kevin tagged up at third. Gregg wasn’t just their best outfielder, he had the best arm in the outfield, and he showed it off now, making a perfect one-hop throw home.
It couldn’t have been a better throw for Teddy to handle if Gregg had run all the way in from center and handed it to him. Only Teddy took his eye off it to see where Kevin was. He looked like he was trying to tag him out before the ball actually got to him. The ball bounced off his chest protector, Kevin scored, and the game was tied at 2–2.