Baseball Genius

by Tim Green

“They’re here?” Cat’s mom had a deep, silky voice. She reminded Jalen of a storybook queen. There was something almost frightening about her beauty, with her high cheekbones, delicate nose, and glossy black hair. “Welcome, boys. Sit, please. Jalen, you’re next to Cat. Daniel, you’re over on this side with me. You can be my date.”

  Jalen was confused. Cat’s brother, Austin, was at school, so he’d assumed that the fifth place was for her stepfather and that Daniel was simply mistaken about London.

  “Oh, Cat.” Cat’s mom frowned. “Wearing jeans? Cat, look how nicely your friends are dressed.”

  “Clothes aren’t important, Mother.” Cat flashed her smile. “And it’s my birthday.”

  “Yes, it is. Sit, everyone.” Cat’s mom had striking blue eyes like Cat’s, only they were somehow sad. The light in them reminded Jalen of a painting he’d seen in a library book once of a small, nearly hopeless campfire beneath an enormous dark sky. Cat’s mom slipped into her place, and they all followed her lead. Then she reached across the table and gripped Cat’s hand, giving it a little shake. “You know I always tell you the day you were born was the best day of my life, Cat.”

  Cat blushed and looked down.

  “Well, it’s true.” Her mom drew Cat’s eyes up from the plate with a beckoning finger until they were looking at each other and smiling like they shared a secret. “And I know how you and your friends all love baseball.”

  Her mom giggled and looked around at them before returning to Cat. “And especially Yankees baseball.”

  Cat nodded enthusiastically. Jalen and Daniel followed her lead.

  “So . . .” Cat’s mom cleared her throat and gave the butler a nod.

  He turned and disappeared through a side door.

  “For your twelfth birthday”—her mom looked expectantly at the door—“I’ve arranged for you and your friends to have dinner with . . .”

  They all turned their attention toward the side door now.

  It swung open, and Jalen thought he might throw up.

  “J-aaaaa-ames Yager!”

  20

  THE PRO BALLPLAYER LOOKED LIKE he’d been hit with a brick.

  Jalen’s mind was already out the door, flying like the wind, and halfway to Old Post Road, but terror chained his legs to the chair.

  “You!” Yager pointed at Jalen. “You’re that kid. . . .”

  Cat’s mom looked at Jalen in alarm.

  Cat flew out of her seat and took the ballplayer by the arm. “The kid who’s e-mailed your foundation website more than a hundred times. I know, I know, Mr. Yager, but I’m the one who told him you have to be persistent, so it’s really on me and maybe—since it’s my birthday—you’ll forgive and forget. Forgive and forget is what my mom says all the time.”

  Yager looked at Cat like she was crazy and tried to gently pull his arm free, but Cat didn’t let go. She was talking fast and forcefully and leading him toward his chair. “I am so, so happy you’re here! James Yager. Mother, you’re just amazing. The very best.

  “Mr. Yager, these are my best friends in the whole world. I love them like brothers, don’t I, Mother? Don’t we love them?”

  Startled and looking embarrassed, Cat’s mom gaped at her daughter. “I . . . yes. You do. Yes, we do. These boys are wonderful, James. I certainly hope Jalen’s persistence wasn’t an annoyance. I’m sure you get hundreds of e-mails a day, but . . . but how did you recognize Jalen from an e-mail?”

  “I meant a message, Mother.” Cat’s face turned red, but she recovered with a jingle of laughter. “I meant a message on Facebook. That’s how he sent the messages, but I thought you’d understand it better if I just said ‘e-mail.’ ”

  Cat’s mother looked at James, who now stood beside the chair at the head of the table, wearing dark jeans and a brown herringbone blazer.

  “I can’t keep all this social media straight.” Cat’s mother forced a laugh. “Can you, James? Twitter or Flitter or Snapchap or Instant Grahams or whatever it is they do?”

  “I, uh . . . I actually have someone who does all that for me.” Yager was still off balance, but seeming to soften. His scowl had eased into a mild frown “But I do know what you mean. It’s . . .”

  They all appeared uncomfortable waiting for him to finish, but no one was more on edge than Jalen.

  “It’s”—Yager began to snap his fingers in an attempt to recover his thoughts—“changing all the time, I guess.”

  Then the Yankees star smiled. “But it’s good to meet—is it Jalen?”

  “Jalen DeLuca,” Cat’s mom said.

  “Right. It’s good to meet Jalen DeLuca in person. Wow, what a small world.”

  Still looking unsettled, Yager took his seat.

  “Really, it’s not small at all.” Cat opened her hands and raised them toward the heavy wood-paneled ceiling, speaking in a singsong voice. “We live with my stepdad—who has more money than God—and he lives next to you—a very famous baseball player who also makes a lot of money—and we’re all just . . . just the kids in the neighborhood.”

  “The neighborhood?” Yager raised an eyebrow.

  “Daniel’s family works and lives at Tipton,” Cat’s mom explained. “And Jalen lives in town. His father owns the Silver Liner. Have you been to the Silver Liner? It’s excellent.”

  “Owns the Silver Liner? Hmm.” The player nodded slowly. “So, what’re we having? What’s the birthday girl’s favorite?”

  “Lamb chops.” Cat beamed, and Jalen wondered if it was because of lamb chops, or that she’d successfully prevented Yager from spilling the story to her mom about Jalen stealing baseballs.

  “Oh, good,” Yager said. “I’m a big fan of lamb chops.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence before Daniel spoke up. “So, JY, did you get paid to be here?”

  “Oh!” Cat’s mom let loose a small laugh.

  “Daniel!” Cat scowled. “That’s not polite.”

  “Well, I figured . . . players get paid for appearances, don’t they? You read that all the time.”

  “James is a friend,” Cat’s mom said. “I saw him at a fund-raiser for the arts, and we talked about being neighbors and his foundation and . . . well, my husband and I wanted to make a contribution and help out.”

  “See?” Daniel sat straight, bright-eyed.

  “See what?” Cat flared her nostrils. “They’re talking about charity work. They’re friends.”

  “Yeah, no. No one paid me.” Yager said it like it was final.

  Daniel slouched, and salad was served by the butler and a young woman with a solemn look.

  “Well, I bet all you big Yankee fans have about a million questions for Mr. Yager.” Cat’s mom looked around hopefully.

  Jalen studied his fork and poked at a thin ribbon of carrot.

  “Cat?” her mom asked.

  “Um . . . yeah. Well, how’s your ankle?” Cat asked.

  Yager picked up his fork and nodded. “Good. Better every day. I’ll be back in the lineup next week.”

  “Do you feel old?” Daniel peered from beneath his thick cap of black hair, his dark-brown eyes drilling for information.

  “Daniel!” Cat glared.

  “What? That’s all they talk about on the MLB Network.” Daniel sulked a bit, and muttered under his breath, “Hot sauce.”

  Yager actually laughed. “Yeah, you know, I do feel old.”

  Daniel’s cheeks glowed, revealing a white-toothed grin. “Must be hard. Especially with that Jeffrey Foxx coming in with his fancy-pants bow ties ’cause he’s some genius or something. Who needed a new GM? We were fine.”

  “They call him a genius because he’s a numbers whiz, and he is,” Yager said, “but I don’t like his bow ties either.”

  “My dad says he’s not as smart as he thinks he is.” Daniel was on a roll now and comfortable enough to stuff some salad in his mouth and keep talking. “My dad says the game ain’t all about numbers. My dad says it’s about heart.”

  “Your dad’
s a smart man,” Yager said, taking a drink from the crystal water glass in front of him before digging into his salad. “But . . . Foxx is our GM, so . . .”

  Yager suddenly looked thoughtful. Then he brightened up. “But it’s your birthday, Cat. Your mom said you’re a huge Yankees fan. What can you tell me about CC Sabathia?”

  “Well, I do know that in his first Yankee season he won nineteen. And then he won three postseason games that year.” Cat stuffed some salad into her smile. “He was big-time.”

  Yager was obviously impressed, and that let Jalen breathe a small sigh of relief because he could tell that the star player wasn’t going to out him, not during Cat’s birthday dinner, anyway. Still, Jalen couldn’t bring himself to speak, and he only stole quick glances at Yager, even though just a few days ago it would have been a dream come true to sit at the table with the famous ballplayer.

  Dinner actually went by in a blink. Cat and Daniel loosened up plenty, and JY was relaxed and joking with them by the time his spoon rattled into the empty bowl of ice cream next to his cake plate. Cat’s mom put both hands on the table. “Well, this has been such a wonderful evening, and you really made Cat’s birthday unforgettable, James.”

  The two grown-ups looked at each other in a funny way. Cat’s mom blushed. Then Yager wiped his mouth and stood, leaving the napkin on the table in front of him. “Let’s not wait until she turns thirteen before we do it again.”

  Cat’s mom tilted her head and smiled.

  Jalen saw light at the end of the tunnel. He was going to make it, a clean getaway. Yager was going to let the whole thing drop, probably because he was more interested in Cat’s mom than sending some twelve-year-old to a detention center for pinching a couple of baseballs he was going to give away in the first place.

  “I’d like to ask a favor of you, though.”

  Jalen looked up and blinked. It was Yager speaking.

  “Of course.” Cat’s mom blushed even harder.

  “Well . . .” Yager looked at Jalen, and Jalen’s stomach knotted up. “I’d like you to let me take Jalen home.

  “I’d like to meet his father.”

  21

  THANK-YOUS WERE DELIVERED ALL AROUND, and they migrated to the back of the house, where Yager had tucked his black Lamborghini away.

  Cat gave Jalen’s hand a squeeze and offered him a sad look. “Tell your dad thanks for the cannoli.”

  Cat’s mom gave the player’s hand a similar squeeze and said something to him that Jalen couldn’t hear. Daniel walked alongside Jalen all the way to the car, then whispered softly, “At least you get to ride in a Lamborghini.”

  “Yeah, to my execution.” Jalen didn’t even look at his friend; he was too worried about losing his dinner.

  With a strong electric hum, the car doors opened the way a ladybug opens its wings before flight, forward and up. The inside looked like a spaceship.

  “Go ahead,” Yager said. “Get in.”

  Jalen slipped into the palm of the leather seat and put his seat belt on. Yager did the same. The doors hummed shut. Jalen’s friends stared with a mixture of envy and dread as the car rumbled to life. They backed up slowly and then crept around the corner of the mansion, but once they were out of sight, Yager stepped on the gas, and they zipped down the long, curving drive like it was a ride on the midway at the Westchester County Fair.

  They were halfway down Old Post Road when the phone rang.

  Yager pressed a button on the steering wheel. “Hello?”

  “James?”

  Yager’s face fell instantly. “Hello, Jeffrey . . . I didn’t know you had this number.”

  “Joe gave it to me.” The Yankees GM sounded uptight. “Uh . . . we need to talk.”

  22

  YAGER TIGHTENED HIS GRIP ON the wheel and pulled over. He ignored Jalen and leaned toward the glowing lights and dials of the dashboard, his face lit by their green radiance. “About what?”

  “Cunningham’s doing great in Toronto. He’ll be playing second base against Chicago, and we’ll see if he sticks.” The GM’s words filled the car like a layer of frost.

  Jalen knew what it meant. It was the beginning of the end. Charlie Cunningham was an up-and-comer, a beefy young infielder, light on his feet but heavy in the hitting department. It seemed impossible, but Jalen knew these things happened, even to the great ones like Yager. Jalen’s already twisted insides knotted up even tighter. He guessed from the sight of Yager’s gritted teeth that the Yankee star felt the same way he did, maybe worse.

  Yes, definitely worse.

  And in that moment, Jalen’s sense of self-preservation—that instinct he felt certain came straight from his missing mom—asked the obvious question: Would Yager be so upset Jalen could escape the horror of having his father find out about the stolen balls? It was possible, and, as bad as Jalen felt for his hero, he couldn’t help his own mental dash for daylight. He listened now with care and interest, because the next few moments might hold the key to his freedom.

  Yager sat silent, but finally spoke. “You can’t do this.”

  “Yeah. I can.” Jeffrey Foxx’s voice sounded suddenly light and cheery. “Your contract is up at the end of this season anyway. Look at your numbers, James. Also, there’s your ankle.”

  “The ankle is fine.” Yager rotated his foot. “The hydrotherapy is great, and the trainer says I’ll be fine to play by Tuesday. My numbers are gonna bounce. It’s only a slump, Jeffrey. I’ve got good years in me—you know that.”

  A car zipped past them going the other way. Yager’s face was briefly lit up by the headlights, and his expression made Jalen think of a horror movie.

  The GM cleared his throat on the other end of the call. “Your batting average these past three weeks is under a hundred and trending negative. It’s a sinking ship, James. It happens to everyone. Look at Derek.”

  “Derek went out on top, Jeffrey!” Yager snarled. “I think I deserve the same courtesy.”

  “This phone call was a courtesy, James. I’m easing you out because I’m a nice guy. I’m sorry you don’t see it that way.” The GM’s voice turned bitter. “You’ve got the next week to give the home crowd plenty of waves and smiles. We don’t need Cunningham to beat the White Sox.”

  “And if I climb out of this?” Yager’s voice had the edge of desperation. “What if I bat a thousand Wednesday? Then again on Thursday and Friday? Then it’s not a sinking ship, is it?”

  “Who doesn’t love a comeback?” The GM sounded like a barber handing out a lollipop to some kid. “This isn’t personal, James. This is about the New York Yankees winning a pennant, putting the best players on the field. Numbers don’t lie. You bat a thousand in these next three games, and I’ll extend that contract.”

  Yager’s face was so screwed up, Jalen thought he might be ready to scream, but instead he nodded violently. “Okay. Numbers. You got it, Jeffrey. I’ll give you your numbers.”

  “Right, but if you don’t, we’re square, right?” the GM said. “No drama, right, James? Just a nice press conference, thanking the club.”

  “You mean thanking the GM?”

  “It’s not about me. It’s a team thing. Hey, got a call coming in from Mattingly on that Suarez trade. Good luck Wednesday.” The phone went dead.

  Yager sat for a full minute, just gripping the wheel.

  Finally he sighed and looked over at Jalen, shaking his head. “Bad night for us both, I guess.”

  Jalen’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t believe Yager was still going to ruin Jalen’s life when his own career was about to crash and burn. Did the man have no pity?

  Yager put the car back into gear and checked his mirror before pulling back out onto the road. A car was coming, so Yager paused. A million things skittered through Jalen’s mind. He knew he’d have one chance and only one chance to alter the collision course his life was on—as well as help Yager. He needed to speak before they moved. The moment would be over. His last chance would be blown.

  The car z
ipped past, and before Yager could pull away, Jalen spoke.

  “I can help you.”

  23

  YAGER KEPT HIS FOOT ON the brake and looked over at Jalen. “That’s not even funny, kid.”

  Jalen nodded. “I can, though. I can help.”

  Yager snorted. “Right, kid. You and a truckload of rabbits’ feet.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with luck,” Jalen said, knowing that he had to keep talking, had to keep Yager’s foot on that brake. He took a deep breath and talked fast. “I can tell you what the next pitch is going to be. I don’t know how I know, but I know. You can ask my friends. I do it all the time when we’re watching a game. I can do it better when I’m there, like my own games, or once when my dad took me to Yankee Stadium for my birthday. Then I’m almost a hundred percent. I’m telling you. I can show you.”

  Yager’s face darkened. He glared at Jalen. “Kid, this is a bad moment for me. Don’t make it worse. You’re a thief, now you’re a liar? This won’t make things better.”

  Jalen’s eye began to fill with tears. Desperation burned inside him. “I’m not lying! Ask Cat. Call her. Ask her. Cat doesn’t lie. She’ll tell you. I can show you. Saturday Night Baseball. It’s on right now. The Royals and the Mariners. I’m telling you, I know what the next pitch is going to be, not a hundred percent, but ninety-five, easy. Isn’t that all you’d need to go four-for-four, Mr. Yager? If you know the pitch coming at you? If you don’t have to react to what you see? You know it’s a curve, or a fastball down the middle, or a slider coming at you? You can adjust before the pitch, and when it comes, you’re just waiting for it and . . . pow!

  “Please! Just ask Cat. Let me show you. How can it hurt to just see? If I can’t do it, you can take me to my dad and the police, but don’t do this without letting me show you. It could mean everything, not just to me, but to you.”

  Yager stared at Jalen hard. The scowl was still in place, but he was chewing on his bottom lip.

  Jalen closed his eyes and said a prayer.