by Derek Jeter
Coach K called time and jogged out to the mound. Derek walked closer to hear the conversation. “You okay, Hicks?”
“I’m good,” Harry answered, looking down at the ground. He sure didn’t seem good, Derek observed.
“All right, go get ’em,” Coach K said with a pat on Harry’s shoulder, and he headed back to the bench.
Harry struck out the next batter by fooling him on a series of pitches. But the third strike got away from Miles, who’d come in to replace JJ behind the plate. Although he tagged the hitter out, both runners advanced without a throw, and now it was second and third with one out.
That wound up hurting the Yankees on the very next pitch. The hitter lofted a fly ball to Vijay, in right. He caught it for the second out, but the runner scored from third easily, to make it a 2–1 game. Meanwhile, the runner at second advanced to third.
Derek concentrated as hard as he could, just hoping that Harry would find some magic to get them out of this inning with only the one run.
But the magic they needed turned out to be in Derek’s glove. The batter hit a pop fly to shallow left. It wasn’t deep enough for Tre’ to come in from left and catch it. It wasn’t hit high enough for Pete to get there from third.
It was up to him, and Derek was already running full tilt, looking back over his shoulder as he went, trying to keep the ball in his sights. He heard everyone screaming as he leapt forward, his arm outstretched to the limit. The ball hit the webbing, then shook loose and flew back into the air!
Derek rolled over twice, and saw the ball coming back down just to his left. He reached out—and came down with it!
Three outs! And the Yankees were still in the lead, 2–1!
“Play of the game, Jeter!” Coach K said as Derek’s teammates all gathered around to high-five him.
“Let’s go!” he told them. “It’s not over yet!” And to Avery, who already had a bat in her hands, ready to lead off, Derek said, “Come on, Ave—get us started!”
After switching around to hit righty against the Giants’ lefty reliever, Avery let the first two pitches go by, getting a good look at the reliever’s style.
Then, with a 1–1 count, she jumped on a fastball and lined a double to right center! As she reached second, she lifted both arms in the air, then pointed to Derek and the others.
“Way to go!” Derek yelled back at her. “That’s it!”
The mood was electric on the Yankees bench, and when JJ worked a walk, the voltage went even higher.
Tre’ would normally have been up next. But for the fifth inning, Coach had made his mandatory substitutions. Tre’, a much better hitter, had to watch from the bench as Miles struck out.
Elliott was next. He swung weakly at two pitches, then got hit in the arm with a changeup. “Ow!” he yelled, but nevertheless, he was smiling as he jogged down to first.
Now the bases were full of Yankees. Vijay would have been up, but he’d been replaced by Norman, who didn’t get that many at bats, and wasn’t used to hitting lefty pitching.
Norman ducked out of the way of two pitches that wound up curving in for strikes. Then he whiffed at a fastball way outside to end the Yankees’ half of the inning, stranding three runners and dashing the team’s hopes.
As Avery came back to the dugout, Derek tried to give her a fist bump for getting that clutch hit, but she ignored him, lost in her own frustration.
Coach K came up to her. “Mullins,” he said. “You’re pitching the fifth. Get out there and warm up.”
Avery had been okay today, until that moment. But as Coach K walked away from her, Derek saw her wince and falter, clutching her stomach again.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s up with you, anyway? You should be seeing a doctor about that.”
“NOT NOW!” she growled at him through gritted teeth. After grabbing a ball from the bench, she slammed it into her mitt and headed off toward the mound, leaving Derek staring after her.
Chapter Ten FIGHT FOR SURVIVAL
Derek could tell that Avery was in high-tension mode. Her shoulders were high up, almost to her ears, a sure sign she wasn’t feeling loose and easy.
But Derek didn’t need to see all that to know. Because he knew her, and he had some idea of what she was going through inside.
The Giants were watching as she warmed up, making quiet jokes about her, and cracking one another up. Pretty cocky for a team that’s losing, Derek thought.
But he understood why. The Giants hadn’t lost all year. Why shouldn’t they expect to win every time they took the field? A one-run deficit? That was not going to faze them. And a girl pitching? They must have thought this was going to be a pushover.
Avery did get the first two strikes on the first hitter. But then he poked a single into right field, and from that moment, the feeding frenzy was on. There were hoots and hollers, and some taunts flung at Avery from the Giants bench.
The next batter smashed a line drive to center. Luckily, it was right at Mason, who flinched, but caught the ball and threw it back in to hold the runner at first.
The Giants bench quieted down, but only for a moment. Avery blew out a relieved breath, then smacked herself angrily on the side of her head with her mitt.
“Hey!” Derek called out to her. “No getting down on yourself, huh? You got this!”
She threw him a hard glance, then got back to business. The catcalls continued, and Derek felt like calling time, going over there, and giving them all a piece of his mind. But he knew he’d better concentrate on doing his job.
On Avery’s next pitch the hitter smacked a hard grounder to second, where Harry had taken over when Avery had come in to pitch. Harry fielded the ball cleanly, then threw to Derek at second to start the double play.
But Harry hadn’t been there early to take infield practice. His throw sailed wide of the bag, just off the tip of Derek’s mitt! Avery, backing up the play smartly, picked up the ball and checked the runner. She then walked back to the mound, muttering under her breath.
She was as mad as she could be, and no wonder, Derek thought. She’d succeeded in getting that grounder, only to have an easy double play messed up behind her. Because she wasn’t the one playing second base. And the kid who was playing there hadn’t practiced with Derek beforehand. So instead of the inning being over, now it was first and second, with only one out.
Derek called over to Harry. “Don’t worry, man—we’ve got this.”
Harry nodded, but didn’t look back at him. Clearly he felt bad for messing up at a crucial moment. But at least now he knew his teammates were behind him.
Avery was laser-focused on the Giants’ next hitter, who was waggling his bat over his head, like he smelled blood in the water.
Derek could see the sweat trickling down Avery’s face. He wanted to tell her to relax and settle down. But after the look she’d just given him and Harry, he hesitated.
He soon wished he hadn’t. On the first pitch the hitter sent one deep to left center. It split the outfielders, for a double that scored both runners, and put the Giants ahead for the first time in the game, 3–2!
Coach Stafford was already out of the dugout and headed for the mound. He signaled to Pete to come in from third to pitch. Harry went back to third, his usual position when he wasn’t pitching. And Avery was sent back to play second base.
Derek followed her with his gaze. He could tell she was steaming, even though her face was hidden.
Pete started off by plunking the first hitter he faced. For a moment Derek feared that things were going to go from bad to worse. Were the Yankees about to fall apart completely?
Pete ran the count full, then threw one right over the plate. The hitter sent a liner to Derek’s left side. Reacting without thinking, he ran for it, and grabbed it in stride for the out.
Then, seeing that the runner on second had strayed too far and slipped trying to get back, Derek kept going, and his foot touched the bag an instant before the runner’s.
“OUT!” sho
uted the ump.
Inning over! Unassisted double play!
Letting out a triumphant shout, Derek ran excitedly back to the bench.
A second ago the season had looked like it was about to go up in flames. If he hadn’t made that play, Derek knew, his team would have been behind now by at least two runs.
Instead the deficit was only one. With three outs left, and the top of their order coming up, the Yankees still had a fighting chance!
Derek watched the new Giants pitcher warm up. Yet another hard thrower. Derek could hear the catcher’s mitt make a loud pop every time the ball hit it.
Okay, he told himself. I’ve got to be ready for the fastball.
Mason couldn’t catch up to it and wound up striking out. Now the Yanks were down to two outs.
And Derek was up.
He took a pitch, hoping to get ahead in the count, but it was a strike. Just watching it go by, Derek knew he was going to have a problem getting onto this kid’s fastball. But he also saw that the infielders were playing him deep—too deep.
The next pitch was a low fastball. Derek took just a half swing at it—not a bunt, but not a full swing either. The ball bounced slowly to the pitcher’s right, forcing him to turn awkwardly out of his follow-through and field the ball, then pivot and throw to first.
He might still have gotten Derek for the out. But his throw was wide to the left. It got by the first baseman, and Derek wound up on second!
Now the Yankees had some life! Derek could feel it, and so could his teammates. They were going wild on the bench, yelling at the top of their lungs for Pete to hit one out of the park.
Pete always wanted to be the big hero with the big hit. Well, this was the perfect time. The pitcher didn’t want to walk him, putting the go-ahead run on base. So Pete was going to get a good pitch to swing at.
Expecting a fastball, he started his swing early, and pulled a sharp liner into left, deep enough to score Derek with the tying run!
Pete stood on second, clapping as Derek ran back to the bench. The Giants looked worried now, and the Yankees were making a world of noise. Derek took his high fives, rattled the chain-link fence, and yelled his head off for Harry to keep the rally going.
With the count full, Harry took a huge swing, and hit a soft fly to shallow right center. The right fielder, seeing the big swing, had misjudged it and backed up two steps, before realizing Harry hadn’t gotten all of it.
By the time the right fielder realized his mistake, it was too late—he raced back in, just as the center fielder and second baseman arrived at the same spot. The ball fell between them, and Pete wound up on third, with Harry on first!
“WOO-HOO!” The Yankees and their fans were all on their feet, shouting and cheering.
Ryan was up next. His fly to center was the second out, but it was deep enough to score Pete, and the Yankees were back in the lead, 4–3!
The Giants erupted into shouts, blaming the right fielder for messing up. Their coach had to call time and go onto the field to keep a fight from starting between his players!
Derek felt sorry for the kid in right field. It was an easy mistake to make, and most kids wouldn’t have done any better, he knew. But he was glad the Giants were upset.
A rattled team is a losing team.
Avery struck out to end the Yankees sixth, and came back to the bench in a rage, shaking the chain-link fence to work off the frustration before grabbing her mitt to get back out in the field.
“We’ve got ’em where we want ’em,” Derek said under his breath, pounding his glove. He glanced over at Avery. She looked right back at him, her eyes ablaze with intensity.
Pete took the mound. He was clearly feeling good about himself, after finally coming through for his team at the key moment. Pete was big and strong, if not a particularly accurate thrower. But the Giants were desperate now. They were trying to get that run back with every swing they took.
Between Pete’s wildness and their overeager swings, the mighty Giants had no chance. They went down one, two, three—on two grounders and a weak pop-up!
In the biggest upset of the entire Little League season, the lowly wild-card Yankees had dispatched the undefeated kings of the regular season!
Against all odds, they’d done it. And now they were just one win away from the championship!
Chapter Eleven DAVE
That night after dinner, the phone rang. “It’s for you, Derek,” said his mom, handing him the phone. “Dave.”
“Hello?” Derek said anxiously. He’d been waiting for Dave’s call.
“Guess what? We won!” Derek could hear the excitement in his friend’s voice.
“Wow! That’s great!”
“You know what this means, right?”
“It’s us versus you for the big prize! I can’t believe it!”
“What were the odds?”
“It’s going to be one heck of a game.”
“Oh, man…”
Derek heard the sudden hesitation in Dave’s voice. “What?”
“You sure you’re okay about it?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I know how much this means to you,” Dave said. “It means a ton to me, so I can only imagine…” Dave loved all sports, but he knew baseball was Derek’s passion. If it had been a golf tournament, the shoe would have been on the other foot.
“Don’t worry about it—because you guys are not going to win.”
Dave let out a relieved laugh. “Okay, we’ll see. But if we win, and if I hit three homers or something—are you still going to write to me?”
Derek was suddenly caught up short. “Of course!” he said. “Are you kidding?”
“Kind of,” Dave said. “But… well, with the move and everything, I thought maybe—”
“Never! Not on my end, at least.”
“Mine neither.”
“Okay, then.”
“Okay,” said Dave. “I guess… I guess I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Sure. And hey, don’t worry—it’s going to be a great game. And whatever happens, nothing changes between us.”
“Right. Nothing changes.” There was a short silence. “Bye, then.”
“Bye.” Derek hung up, feeling a little rattled. Somehow, when the playoffs had started, it had seemed like such a long shot that he and Dave would wind up playing each other in the final game.
He wasn’t sure how happy he was about it. If Dave was worried it would affect their friendship, should Derek have been worried too?
How would he really feel if the Yankees went down in defeat because of Dave? Not great, that was for sure. He guessed it would be better if Dave was the Tigers hero, rather than some other kid. But Derek wasn’t sure how he would feel. You never really knew until the moment came.
One thing was certain—between now and Saturday, he and Dave were competitors. One of their teams was going to win the championship.
And one wasn’t.
* * *
Derek could feel the cold sweat in his armpits. It wasn’t like normal sweat—the kind you work up when you’re active. This was the sweat of anxiety. Of fear.
Glancing over at his rival, Derek saw that Gary was busy filling in answer after answer. He had a relaxed, satisfied smile on his face—the smile of a tiger after eating its prey.
Wait—was Gary actually humming?
Looking up at the clock behind Ms. Terrapin’s desk, Derek saw that he was now behind in time. He felt a surge of alarm go through him. The cold sweat was now showing through his T-shirt.
Come on, said a little voice in Derek’s head. Math is your best subject! Derek remembered his dad’s advice: “You can’t do your best if you’re stressed.”
It’s just a bunch of puzzles to be solved, that’s all, Derek told himself. Puzzles are fun, right?
He smiled. The voice sounded a lot like Vijay. Derek looked over at his friend. Vijay looked calm, unworried, and totally focused.
Derek tried to
get back to work, but Gary’s soft humming kept distracting him.
And then, he thought of the chicken suit. He saw himself, surrounded by classmates pointing at him and laughing. Even the little kids were laughing and pointing. He would never live it down.
The image was enough to shock Derek back into action. The jumble of facts in his brain suddenly reorganized itself. Remembering Vijay’s advice, he quickly sailed through a raft of easy questions, skipping anything he didn’t instantly know the answer to. These weren’t the standardized tests, he reasoned, but the same strategy ought to work with any test, right?
Going back to tackle the harder problems, Derek found to his surprise that he really did know most of the answers, especially the multiple-choice items. He finished the second go-round with ten minutes left.
He was just answering the last problem when time ran out. “Pencils down!” Ms. Terrapin said.
Whew. He’d done it—just barely, but Derek felt satisfied that in the end he’d done the best he could. He was pretty confident that studying with Vijay had made a huge difference. More than anything, it had given him the confidence that he could do it.
“Well, Gary,” Derek said as they filed out of the classroom, “may the best man win.”
Gary snorted. “He already has, Jeter. You just haven’t gotten the bad news yet.”
Derek laughed, shaking his head. “Messing with my head, huh? Nice. Same old Gary.”
“Come on, Jeter—don’t pretend you don’t do the same.”
“Me?”
“Look at you, Mr. Goody Two-shoes. Are you telling me you’re not messing with my head just as much? Well, I don’t buy your ‘innocent’ act for a minute.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gar. I don’t play like that. Those kinds of sports really are a waste of time.”
“Don’t kid me, Jeter. This is only round one, and you were struggling in there, I could tell. And math is supposed to be your best subject? Man, you’re in deep trouble.”
