Play Ball!

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Play Ball! Page 11

by Matt Christopher


  But Robert just got into his crouch.

  Idiot, Liam thought. Then he called to his fellow outfielders to move back. It was a good thing he did because—Crack!—Phillip connected on Scott’s first pitch, a massive blast that soared high in the sky between center and left field!

  Liam and Rodney both took off after it.

  “I’ve got it!” Liam bellowed.

  Rodney backed off immediately. Liam churned up the grass, eyes glued to the ball. As it started to drop, he put on a burst of speed. Then, his heart hammering in his chest and his arm stretching as far as he could reach, he dove across the turf—and slid his glove under the ball just before it hit the ground!

  Phillip was out! But the play wasn’t over yet. Liam leaped to his feet and spotted the runners returning to their bases. Shortstop Clint Kelley was in the cutoff position. But there wasn’t time for the relay.

  “Duck!” Liam shouted to Clint.

  Clint ducked. Liam heaved the ball to Sean at second. It was a perfect throw that socked into Sean’s glove with a loud pop. Sean swept it down seconds before the runner tagged up.

  For a split second, there was dead silence. Then—

  “Yer out!” the umpire yelled.

  Sean gave a whoop. Jay and Rodney converged on Liam, slapping him on the back as they ran in from the outfield. In the stands, Melanie and the McGraths cheered loud and long, almost to the point of embarrassment. Coach Dumas gave him a high five that left Liam’s palm stinging while Coach Driscoll nodded and said, “Well done.”

  Final score: Pythons 2, Rattlers 1.

  After the game, the teams lined up for the traditional hand-slap. As he began to move, Liam felt a jolt of adrenaline surge through his veins. Every step was bringing him closer to Phillip.

  And then, they were face-to-face. Time slowed as they regarded each other.

  “Good game, DiMaggio,” Liam finally said. He raised his palm a little higher.

  Phillip looked at it. Then he narrowed his eyes, touched his hand to Liam’s, and said, “Until next time, McGrath.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-NINE

  Come on, Jones, put it in here! Put it in here! Put it in here!”

  Carter couldn’t believe his ears when Ash let out another string of chatter.

  It’s like he didn’t even hear me! he thought.

  He picked up the ball and threw it into his glove as hard as he could. Once, twice, three times, all while staring hard at the catcher. But either Ash didn’t see his look or didn’t care because he just kept talking.

  First up was Arthur Holmes. Carter and Arthur had a few classes together at school, and while Arthur never said much, Carter got the impression he was very smart.

  He certainly was smart about the pitches he swung at. Carter’s first throw, a changeup, dipped a little too soon. Arthur didn’t even try for it.

  “Ball one!” Mr. Walker called.

  Arthur let the second sinker go by as well for ball two.

  Time for something different, Carter thought. So when Ash signaled for a third changeup, he shook him off.

  Ash frowned and flashed the same signal again. Again, Carter shook it off and waited for Ash to give him something else.

  Instead, Ash spread his hands as if to say, go ahead, it’s your call.

  So Carter threw a two-seam fastball.

  Pow! Arthur connected for a screaming line drive between second and short. Carter spun around in time to see Miguel and Kevin dive for the catch. Both missed, but nearly hit each other.

  From the sidelines, Coach Harrison instructed Arthur to hold up at second while Leo retrieved the ball.

  “Hey, what gives?”

  Carter whirled around to find Ash standing behind him, glaring.

  “I told you to be careful with him,” Ash said.

  “I—sorry,” Carter stammered, taken aback. “I thought I could get him with the fastball.”

  “Yeah? Well, you thought wrong. Next time, don’t shake me off. I know what I’m doing.”

  He stalked back to the plate and got into his crouch. Carter wondered if he’d start up the chatter again. But this time, the catcher stayed silent. And somehow, that was worse than the noise.

  Seth Wynne came up to bat. He topped the first pitch, sending it straight down in front of the plate. Ash was up on his feet like a shot. He whipped his mask off, scooped up the ball with his bare hand, checked Arthur at second, and then threw to first. Seth was out—and Jerry was pulling his hand out of his glove and shaking it.

  “Yeouch!” he cried. “That was a bullet, Ash!”

  “There’s plenty more where that came from!” Ash replied, drawing laughter from the other Hawks.

  Carter laughed, too, although he couldn’t help wondering why Ash had thrown so hard when it was clear he could get Seth out.

  The next two batters, Drew and Josh, both struck out. Mr. Harrison gave them a few words of encouragement as they collected their gloves, then pointed to Carter.

  “Okay, Jones, let’s see what you’ve got at the plate this year!”

  Carter nodded and hustled to the batter’s box. He’d been concentrating so much on pitching in the last weeks that he hadn’t done much hitting. Fortunately, Drew gave him a pitch he liked. He connected solidly for a turf-buzzing grounder in the gap between first and second.

  “Give me a ticket home!” he called to Miguel.

  Miguel grounded out. But Jerry pounded Drew’s third pitch far into right field, reaching second and sending Carter to third. Leo lined out to the pitcher. Drew looked so surprised to see the ball back in his glove, Carter almost laughed out loud.

  Now Ash came up to bat. His last hit had flown beyond anyone’s reach. The players hushed as they waited to see what he would do this time. Mr. Harrison leaned forward, hands on knees, watching Ash intently.

  Drew threw. Ash swung and missed.

  Drew hurled a second pitch. Ash let it go by.

  “Strike!”

  Carter licked his lips nervously, wondering if Ash was going to choke with the runners in scoring position.

  He got his answer two pitches later. The first was wide. The second was right on the money. Ash took another huge cut—and went down swinging.

  Carter and his teammates jogged in. Carter started to reassure Ash that it didn’t matter, it was just a practice.

  “Just get out there and pitch,” Ash cut him off with a snarl. “And this time, don’t shake me off.”

  Stunned, Carter picked up his glove and moved to the mound. He’s just embarrassed, he told himself.

  Jared Levy came to the plate. Ash signaled for a fastball. Carter nodded, reared back, and threw. Jared swung from the heels and missed.

  Ash returned the ball to Carter and called for the same pitch. Jared missed that one, too.

  Carter thought Ash would change things then. Instead, he flashed the same fingers again. This time, Jared connected for a single.

  Remy stepped into the batter’s box. Carter looked in and Ash showed three fingers.

  A changeup. Carter shifted his grip, wound up, and threw. Remy fanned.

  Three fingers again.

  Carter frowned.

  Another changeup? Is he testing me or something? Daring me to question him?

  If so, Carter didn’t feel like playing that game. He delivered the pitch Ash signaled for.

  Remy fouled the ball down the third-base line. When Ash signaled for yet another changeup, Carter didn’t hesitate to throw it even though he was sure Remy would see it coming.

  Remy did. His bat met the ball and sent it bouncing past Leo at third.

  Runners at first and second, and now Arthur Holmes was up at bat. Carter leaned in.

  What’re you going to give me this time, Ash?

  When the signal came, he blinked, not sure he’d seen it right. Ash flashed it again. There was no mistaking it this time.

  Curveball, those fingers said.

  Now Carter knew for sure: Ash was testing him, all
right. Big time.

  After the pitching tryouts, Carter had told Ash everything Coach Harrison had said about the curveball. He also told him that if he was put on Mr. Harrison’s team, he wouldn’t throw the pitch or practice it.

  Ash had immediately urged him to rethink his decision. “I’m not saying you use it all the time. But come on, what’s the harm in practicing it now and then? That way, it’s ready when you need it!”

  “But Coach Harrison—”

  “—said it wasn’t against the rules,” Ash finished flatly.

  “What’s the holdup, Carter?” the coach called. “We’re running out of time!”

  Carter glanced at the coach and nodded. Then he rotated the ball in his hand, took a deep breath, reared back, and threw.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY

  And after the high five, he says, ‘Until next time, McGrath!’ all menacing and threatening-like,” Liam finished gleefully.

  Liam had arrived home an hour ago, still jazzed from the win over the Rattlers. The Driscolls had invited him for pizza, but he had declined. “Got a call to make,” he said.

  When he got home, he immediately Skyped Carter, knowing his cousin wouldn’t go to bed until he’d heard the details.

  Carter grinned. “Who cares what he said? You made the play that stopped him cold!”

  “Yeah. I just wish I’d gotten a monster hit off him. That would have been sweet.”

  “There’s still time. Lots of games to come, right?”

  “Right. And hopefully, I’ll be behind the plate for at least some of them.”

  “How’d that kid Robert do?”

  “Worse than lousy, plus his attitude stinks.” Liam leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “Unless he improves really quickly, I think I could be wearing the mask and pads again real soon.”

  “That’s where you should be.”

  Liam gave a short laugh. “Actually, where I should be is back in Pennsylvania. But since I can’t be, I’ll take playing catcher.” He sat forward. “But enough about me. You had your first practice today, right? How’d it go? Was that indoor field any good? What’d you do for drills? Did you get to pitch? And who caught for you?”

  Carter shrugged. “Practice went okay. Coach Harrison is great, of course, and I think we’ve got some decent players, so hopefully we’ll have a good season.” He gave a tremendous yawn then. “Listen, Liam, I gotta get to bed. But I’m psyched for you, man, I really am.”

  He lifted his fist to the screen. Liam touched his own knuckles to it three times and then the cousins signed off.

  It wasn’t until the screen went blank that Liam realized Carter never said who his new catcher was.

  Oh well, he thought, I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.

  Back in Pennsylvania, Carter pulled the covers up to his chin. But as tired as he was, he couldn’t fall asleep. Part of the trouble, he knew, was that he’d avoided answering Liam’s questions about his catcher. The other part was the reason he’d avoided answering: the catcher himself.

  Weeks ago, Carter couldn’t imagine anyone taking Liam’s place behind the plate. Slowly, though, he’d gotten used to the idea of seeing Ash there. But after this evening’s practice, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

  When he threw a two-seam fastball instead of the curve the catcher had signaled for, Carter had figured Ash wouldn’t be happy with him. And he wasn’t wrong. Ash had given him the cold shoulder the rest of practice. The ride home would have been silent if not for Mrs. LaBrie’s chatter.

  It’s that darned curveball! Carter thought now. I wish I’d never tried it. I mean, sure, I can get it over the plate. But just because I can throw it doesn’t mean I should—or ever will! I’ve got to make sure he understands I’m not throwing it again.

  He looked out his window toward the McGraths’ house. It was late, but he could see a light on in Liam’s bedroom.

  The LaBries’ house, he amended. Ash’s bedroom.

  He found his phone and sent Ash a short text. How about a catch tomorrow after breakfast? it read.

  He waited for a reply, but didn’t get one. Then the light in Ash’s bedroom went out. Knowing there was nothing more he could do that night, Carter finally drifted off to sleep.

  Sunday morning, Carter woke to the buzz of his cell phone. Ash had replied to his text.

  Your yard or mine? it read.

  Carter breathed a sigh of relief. At least we’re talking again, he thought as he typed Mine in half an hour and hit send.

  Exactly half an hour later, Ash appeared at the Joneses’ door. With Lucky Boy in tow, the boys headed to Carter’s backyard and began tossing the ball to each other. For a few minutes, the only sounds were the smack of the ball hitting their gloves and Lucky Boy’s excited yips as he dashed between them.

  “Listen, Ash,” Carter finally said, “I’m done with the curveball, okay? I’ve got plenty of other pitches I can use.”

  “Sure you do,” Ash said agreeably. “They’re good pitches, too. But so is your curve.” When Carter started to protest, Ash held up his hand. “I’m not saying you’ll ever use it. But why not practice it from time to time, just in case you need it someday?”

  “I’ll never need it.”

  Ash raised his eyebrows. “Really? Never? How about if you were on the mound for the final inning of the U.S. Championship Game with the score tied—and Phillip DiMaggio came up to bat?”

  Carter snorted in disbelief. “The odds of DiMaggio and me meeting at Williamsport again are like a gazillion to one, Ash, you know that! I mean, when’s the last time the same two Little League teams reached the World Series tournament? And even if both our teams did get that far, the chance of us meeting in the U.S. Championship Game? Forget it!”

  Ash waved his protests away impatiently. “You didn’t answer my question. If you could win the U.S. Championship and advance to the World Series match by throwing it, would you?” He narrowed his eyes. “Would you use it to strike out DiMaggio the way he struck out your cousin?”

  Images of DiMaggio swinging and missing, of Liam leaping and pumping his fists in triumph, of teammates swarming him on the mound, flashed with sudden clarity in Carter’s mind—and for one long moment, he could see himself using the curveball just that once.

  Then he came back to reality. He tossed the ball in the air and then started throwing it hard into his glove. Over and over, it struck the pocket with a solid thud. When he finally answered Ash, his voice was firm.

  “Like I said, there’s zero chance of me throwing any kind of pitch to DiMaggio again. So let’s just drop the whole curveball thing and get on with playing catch, okay?”

  Ash scowled and kicked at the grass. “All right, fine.” Then he fixed Carter with an intense gaze. “I just have one last question.”

  Carter stiffened. “What?” he asked warily.

  “Do you still want to go all the way to Williamsport this year?”

  “ ’Course I do!” Carter replied, tossing the ball back to him. “And I know just how to get there.”

  “Yeah? How?”

  Carter smiled. “One step at a time.”

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  WHAT IS LITTLE LEAGUE®?

  With nearly 165,000 teams in all 50 states and over 80 other countries across the globe, Little League Baseball® is the world’s largest organized youth sports program! Many of today’s Major League players started their baseball careers in Little League Baseball, including Derek Jeter, David Wright, Justin Verlander, and Adrian Gonzalez.

  Little League® is a nonprofit organization that works to teach the principles of sportsmanship, fair play, and teamwork. Concentrating on discipline, character, and courage, Little League is focused on more than just developing athletes: It helps to create upstanding citizens.

  Carl Stotz established Little League in 1939 in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. The first league only had three teams and played six innings, but
by 1946, there were already twelve leagues throughout the state of Pennsylvania. The following year, 1947, was the first year that the Little League Baseball® World Series was played, and it has continued to be played every August since then.

  In 1951, Little League Baseball expanded internationally, and the first permanent league to form outside of the United States was on each end of the Panama Canal. Little League Baseball later moved to nearby South Williamsport, Pennsylvania, and a second stadium, the Little League Volunteer Stadium, was opened in 2001.

  Some key moments in Little League history:

  1957 The Monterrey, Mexico, team became the first international team to win the World Series.

  1964 Little League was granted a federal charter.

  1974 The federal charter was amended to allow girls to join Little League.

  1982 The Peter J. McGovern Little League Museum opened.

  1989 Little League introduced the Challenger Division.

  2001 The World Series expanded from eight to sixteen teams to provide a greater opportunity for children to participate in the World Series.

  2014 Little League will celebrate its 75th anniversary.

  HOW DOES A LITTLE LEAGUE® TEAM GET TO THE WORLD SERIES?

  In order to play in the Little League Baseball World Series, a player must first be a part of a regular-season Little League, and then be selected as part of their league’s All-Star team, consisting of players ages 11 to 13 from any of the teams. The All-Star teams compete in district, sectional, and state tournaments to become their state champions. The state champions then compete to represent one of eight different geographic regions of the United States (New England, Mid-Atlantic, Southeast, Great Lakes, Midwest, Northwest, Southwest, and West). All eight of the Regional Tournament winners play in the Little League Baseball World Series.

  The eight International Tournament winners (representing Asia-Pacific and the Middle East, Australia, Canada, the Caribbean, Europe and Africa, Mexico, Japan, and Latin America) also come to the Little League Baseball World Series.

 

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