“We’ve got to win it for my dad.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
THE CHAMPIONSHIP GAME TOOK place on the main field in the center of Dream Park. The Titans’ bus dropped them off outside a battered green door in the side of the cinder-block field house where they were allowing the semifinalists to change and prepare. The locker room smelled like damp socks and dried mud. Josh examined his face in the mottled mirror and traced the scar beneath his eye as he pondered his mother’s words from the night before.
“You ready?” Benji asked, patting him on the back.
Josh washed his hands and nodded without speaking.
Josh’s dad called them together, speaking in his soft rumbling-thunder voice.
“Okay,” he said, looking around at each of them, “everyone knows by now that the Mick tried to buy off the umpire—or we think he did, anyway—but that’s over. Don’t lose your focus. The Mullen kid is still going to be the best pitcher we’ve seen. He throws more heat than anyone, but he’s not perfect and I know a way we can beat him.”
Josh shifted and looked around. The rest of the team stared at his father as if they were in a trance. He could tell they all believed in his dad, and Josh did too.
“He throws heat, but he’s a little on the wild side,” his dad said. “That’s how we beat him, with our brains. We make him throw more pitches than he wants. First of all, he’s pitched two entire games already this week, which is a lot. Second, the games he’s pitched, the ump was giving him one heck of a big strike zone. After everything that’s happened and everyone talking, that won’t happen with the ump we’ll get today.
“So, we wear him out. We make him throw eight to ten pitches for every batter. Don’t worry about hitting it early on, just guard the plate. Get a piece of the ball—a foul is going to be like gold for us. It might not seem like it, but by the end, we’ll have him worn out, and if I know Mickey Mullen, the dad, he’s not going to pull his kid out, even if he’s struggling. Trust me, guys. Hang in, protect the plate, and we’ll get them in the end.”
After a crisp cheer led by Josh’s dad, they burst out of the locker room and took the field. Wind snapped at the pennants atop the stadium’s flagpoles, and sunshine spilled down through a high haze of fish scale clouds. A hint of popcorn and cotton candy floated on the breeze along with the buzz of the growing crowd in the stands. The sight of TV cameras up in the top row of the bleachers and behind home plate made Josh’s stomach roll. Jaden, her dad, and Josh’s mom sat right behind the Titans dugout, and they all offered him a thumbs-up. Josh refused to look at Mickey Mullen or Mickey Jr. Instead, he lost himself in the pregame ritual of their pepper drill and warm-up swings.
With his hat over his heart, Josh felt a thrill as he heard “The Star-Spangled Banner.” When the music ended, he pulled his cap on tight and turned to Benji. “This is it. Can you believe it? Everything we went through, and now we’re really here.”
“And they’re here too,” Benji said, pointing up to a section in the crowd where more than a dozen college coaches sat clustered together to scout the talent.
“Let’s do it, Benji,” Josh said, holding out a fist for Benji to bump. “We got an even field. No cheating. No tricks. Just baseball.”
The mayor of Cooperstown stepped out to the pitcher’s mound and announced the beginning of the first-ever Hall of Fame national championship game. The crowd cheered and the Titans did too as they dashed out onto the field. Josh planted his heels on the lip of grass between second and third, then rocked forward with his toes in the dirt, bent over and ready for anything.
Anything was what he got. The Comets could hit, and they kept the Titans busy in the field. Even with stellar defense that included two double plays through five and a half innings, the Titans found themselves down 5–3 going into the bottom of the final inning. Mickey Jr. had given up just four hits: a single to Esch and a home run to Josh in the first, along with a double by Josh in the third that sent a runner in to score before Mickey Jr. closed out the inning. The only bright side going into their last at bat was that the Titans were at the top of their order.
Josh’s dad called the team together. Jaden had moved into the dugout with her pen and pad, and she took notes as Josh’s father spoke.
“Okay, this is it,” he said, kneeling down in front of them as they clustered together in the dugout. “This is right where we said we’d be. We can do it, but you’ve got to believe. Don’t let Mullen intimidate you. He’s not the same pitcher he was in the first inning. Trust me, his arm is going. He’s worn out. I know he’s only given up four hits, but even when we’ve struck out, we made him throw more pitches than is good for him. You did your job up until now—now we finish this thing. First three guys get on base. Josh, you clean it up. Okay, bring it in. ‘Believe’ on three. One, two, three—”
“BELIEVE!”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
ESCH WAS THEIR LEADOFF batter, and the first two pitches Mickey Jr. threw had so much heat that Esch could only blink as they burned right by him down the middle. Esch stepped back out of the box with an 0–2 count and looked over at Josh’s dad. His dad held up a clenched fist and nodded for him to hang in. Esch took a deep breath and stepped up. The next two pitches went wild. When the third pitch went just high and inside, Mickey Mullen shot out of the Comets dugout screaming at the umpire when he called it a ball.
The umpire was a huge man with a thick bull neck. The rumor around the park was that he was a college umpire the tournament had brought up from New York City. The ump held up his meaty hands as he warned Mickey Mullen that another tirade would be his last.
Esch stepped back into the box. The 3–2 pitch came, right down the middle. Esch swung over it but managed to nick it just enough so that it dribbled down the third-base line. The catcher threw off his mask and scrambled for it.
Esch took off like a shot and made it safely just as the catcher’s throw made it to first.
“Good thing they don’t own the ump,” Jaden muttered to Josh after the cheering in their dugout subsided.
The next Titans batter went down but it took Mickey Jr. eleven pitches to do it, and Josh could see that his dad was right. The balls didn’t have the heat they had before—far from it. The batter before Josh got up and hit a single over the shortstop’s head, putting two on base with just one out.
Josh cheered from the batter’s circle, then puffed out his cheeks and blew a gust of air. Jaden and Benji both gave him a thumbs-up. His dad stepped out of the dugout to slap him on the back and tell him to swing big. Josh nodded, then walked up to the plate and planted his feet in the batter’s box.
That’s when Mickey Mullen, the dad, jogged out to the mound.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
THE FATHER AND SON talked back and forth at the bottom of the mound. Mickey’s cheeks seemed to pinch at his eyes as he spat out a tirade of angry words at his son that Josh couldn’t quite make out. Mickey Jr. didn’t slouch—he stood tall and looked evenly at his famous father and shook his head no. Mickey Mullen’s face went red and Josh heard the words, “You’ll walk him if I tell you to walk him or you’ll walk home to California.”
The father turned and stomped back to the dugout. Mickey Jr. climbed the mound.
Josh stared out at Mickey Jr. and saw something that surprised him.
Mickey Jr. held his head high with defiance.
Josh set his feet, gritted his teeth, and cranked back his bat, ready for the pitch.
Mickey Jr. wound up, and when the ball left his hand, Josh knew it was a changeup. He read it perfectly, right down the middle, and swung with everything he had.
It was too much. Josh pulled the ball well outside the third-base line. It cleared the fence by a mile but was obviously foul.
“No,” Mickey Mullen screamed from the dugout. “Don’t you do it!”
The umpire tossed out a fresh ball. Mickey Jr. adjusted it in his glove and bit his lip. Glaring down at Josh, he wound up and threw another pitch
down the middle with all the heat he could muster.
It was a fastball that wasn’t so fast.
Josh got all of it and the ball took off, clearing the fence by more than a hundred feet. The crowd exploded, and as Josh circled the bases he couldn’t help noticing Mickey Jr.’s chin hit his chest, and he couldn’t help feeling bad for the opposing pitcher, knowing his famous father would be enraged with him for going against his wishes and failing.
To his credit, Mickey Mullen shook his head, clapped his hands at his son, and shouted for him to forget about it. The father shouted that if Mickey Jr. put down two more batters, the inning would be over—they could take it into extra innings and win it anyway.
Mickey Jr. took heart. He put the next Titans batter down with just four pitches, the last one a fastball that showed some life. All eyes in the stadium went to the Titans batter’s circle, where Benji stood with his jaw hanging slack.
Josh put a hand on Benji’s arm, and his dad put his hand on the other. Benji trembled and gulped like a fish in the bottom of a boat.
“Hey,” Josh said, “Batman and Robin. Heavy Hitter, right? That’s you. You can do this.”
“Benji,” Josh’s dad said, leaning over so he was eye level with Josh’s best friend, “I know why you call yourself a heavy hitter all the time. I know you don’t really believe that about yourself, but that’s okay, because every good ballplayer grows up. They take the step between being a kid and a young man. It happens. Sometimes it happens when no one’s looking. For you, it’s gonna happen right here, right now, with all these people watching and with thousands of others checking you out on TV.”
“Don’t you mean millions?” Benji asked with a weak smile.
“It’s ESPN Four,” Josh’s dad said, grinning, “don’t get that excited. This is it, though. Trust me, Benji. His arm is worn down and you’re putting this out of the park.”
“Good luck, buddy,” Josh said.
Benji staggered toward the plate, muttering to himself.
“What’s he saying?” Josh’s dad asked him.
“He’s saying ‘heavy hitter,’ Dad,” Josh said, then he crossed his fingers for luck.
Benji dusted off his hands and spit into his glove. He held up one hand and stepped into the batter’s box. The first pitch came fast and inside. Benji swung for the fences and fouled it off the handle of his bat.
“You’re making contact!” Josh’s dad shouted.
“Get him, Benji!” Jaden shouted.
Josh bit his lip.
The next pitch came fast down the middle. Benji swung so hard he spun himself into the dirt. The ball smacked the catcher’s mitt and the catcher tossed it back to Mickey Jr., who fought back a smile.
“Oh brother,” Jaden said, moaning to Josh and clenching his arm in her grip, “an 0–2 count.”
“Believe,” Josh said in a whisper.
Mickey Jr. looked at his dad, who signaled something. Then he took a deep breath, wound up, and threw a fastball too high to be a strike.
Benji reared back and swung.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
JOSH FELT THE MOAN escape him. But Benji, off balance and reaching for the sky with his bat, connected.
CRACK.
The ball took off like an airplane, climbing higher as it went, arcing over the right fielder’s head and dropping toward the fence. Benji took off.
Everyone screamed.
When the ball hit the fence with a clang, Josh felt Jaden’s fingers dig straight down to his bone. The ball popped up and fell, and none of them could tell if it was inside or outside the fence.
Benji ran for all he was worth, his foot smacking the second-base bag. The right fielder sprinted toward the fence, reaching for the ball like it was still in play. Benji was halfway to third with his back to the outfielder and already slowing down, extending his arms to receive the cheers of the crowd.
The outfielder threw his shoulder into the fence and reached down, springing back out onto the grass with the recoil of the metal mesh and cranking back his arm to make a throw.
Benji rounded third and—even though he’d disavowed the player after his steroid use—tipped off his batting helmet like Manny Ramirez, arms still out, loving the applause and hamming it up for the TV cameras.
Josh and his dad and the entire Titans team screamed for Benji to run. Benji turned his head and saw the right fielder launch the ball. His face dropped in complete shock, but instead of freezing, Benji clenched his jaw and took off. He put his head down, churning forward, fighting for top speed to beat the throw.
Jaden chewed on a knuckle and said, “He’ll never make it.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
THE BALL HIT THE grass just inside the infield dirt and bounced toward home plate. The catcher had to step to his left, a few feet up the baseline. Benji and the ball raced for the same spot.
The catcher caught the ball on a bounce with a smack, pinning it with both hands into the pocket of the mitt and turning to tag Benji.
Benji’s face contorted with momentary horror, then he snarled and dipped his shoulder and plowed straight through the catcher. His shoulder caught the catcher in the chest and he drove upward. The catcher flew into the air, twisting as he fell. Benji lost his balance and fell forward, his hands smacking home plate. The catcher landed with a thud, his mitt extended out to the side to preserve his hold on the ball, but when the glove hit the dirt, the ball dribbled out.
The umpire leaned over and dipped his masked face toward the loose ball before slashing his arms sideways through the air.
“Safe!”
The Titans spilled from the dugout, swarming Benji at the plate, but their teammate lay facedown, flat and unmoving with his arms extended. As they circled around him, the team went silent and the crowd grew quiet.
“Is he okay?” Jaden said.
Benji suddenly jerked his arms in and began pumping out sloppy push-ups over the top of home plate, counting them with a sagging bow in his back that would have embarrassed even a nerd in gym class.
After flopping out ten push-ups, Benji sprang to his feet and held his arms wide for the crowd, which erupted into earsplitting cheers. The team mauled Benji, raising him up as he grinned and bowed his head over and over.
In the tumult, Josh became aware of the heavy thud of helicopter blades. Before the Titans even settled down, the helicopter dropped from the sky and landed in a whirl of dust in the middle of the outfield. Mickey Mullen had his son by the collar, and he half guided, half dragged him toward the thundering aircraft.
As Josh and Jaden watched, Mickey Jr. escaped his dad’s grip and headed toward second base. The Mick didn’t even look back. He trudged for the helicopter on his own, signaling with a wave of his hand for his son to follow, but Mickey Jr. kept coming, so Josh and Jaden walked out to meet him.
To Jaden, Mickey Jr. winked and said, “Thanks for all the nice things you wrote about me. My money’s on you to get that Pulitzer one day. It’s been fun.”
Then Mickey Jr. pointed at Josh and said, “You won this one, but next time it’ll be different.”
Then Mickey Jr. turned and ran for the helicopter. He hopped in, the door closed, and the helicopter rose, lifting straight up before tilting its nose and heading south.
“You did it,” Jaden said, giving Josh a hug.
“And Benji,” Josh said.
She nodded and said, “And Benji.”
Josh looked at her, studying the golden flecks in her green eyes, looking for something—care, friendship, respect—and finding it.
“He didn’t have to throw to me,” Josh said, adjusting his cap to shield his eyes from the sun so he could follow the path of the helicopter as it took off into the wind. “His dad wanted him to walk me, but he threw a good pitch anyway.”
“He wanted to test himself,” she said, “and from what he just said, I’m guessing that he figures your paths will cross again. It’s what you wanted, right? What your dad said you needed to make you g
reat? I told you, all you had to do was be you and it would happen.”
Josh looked her in the eyes and said, “I am looking forward to facing him again.”
Still smiling, she nodded toward the helicopter growing smaller in the sky and said, “Right. It’s what you said you needed to be great—a baseball rival.”
About the Author
TIM GREEN played Little League baseball for many years before specializing in football in order to become an NFL player. But his love for baseball lived on, inspiring him to coach his own sons’ teams. After graduating as covaledictorian from Syracuse University, he was a first-round NFL draft pick and played as a star defensive end for the Atlanta Falcons. Tim also earned his law degree with honors and has worked as a commentator for FOX Sports and National Public Radio. Always an avid reader, he became the New York Times bestselling author of THE DARK SIDE OF THE GAME and a dozen suspense novels, including ABOVE THE LAW.
Tim has written many exciting books for young readers, including BASEBALL GREAT, also starring Josh, Jaden, and Benji; FOOTBALL GENIUS and FOOTBALL CHAMP, starring Troy White; and FOOTBALL HERO, starring Ty Lewis. FOOTBALL GENIUS and BASEBALL GREAT are both New York Times bestsellers.
Tim lives with his wife, Illyssa, and their five children in upstate New York. You can visit him online at www.timgreenbooks.com.
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ALSO BY TIM GREEN
BASEBALL GREAT NOVELS
Baseball Great
Rivals
Best of the Best
FOOTBALL GENIUS NOVELS
Football Genius
Football Hero
Football Champ
The Big Time
Rivals (2010) Page 16