by Derek Jeter
Derek looked around for Avery and her mom but didn’t see them. Maybe it’s just too much for her, he thought. Still, he knew that if it were him, he’d have shown up—for his team’s sake, if nothing else.
Both teams got their warm-ups in and took batting practice. Once or twice Derek looked over at the man in the Tigers’ stands and saw him taking notes. He wondered what that was all about.
The teams went to their benches. “Okay, everyone, let’s gather around,” Coach K said, waving his arms to beckon them. “First of all, I just wanted to say that we’re going to be without Mullins today.”
A moan went up from some of the players. “Her mom called to say she’s sick. We all know how much she would want to be here.”
That’s when Derek saw Avery running toward them, mitt in hand, with her mom jogging behind her, trying to keep up.
“She’s here!” Derek said. “Look!”
As the Yankees spotted her, they broke into cheers. Avery reached the circle and joined in the group hug. “Let’s go!” she yelled.
The Yankees did their team cheer and broke the circle. Before Coach started reading out the lineup and positions, Derek found Avery and tugged on her shirt.
“Hey! I thought you weren’t playing.”
“Yeah, well…”
“Your mom said the doctor didn’t want you playing anymore.”
“I know what she said,” Avery told him, a steely look in her eye. “I know what they all said. I told them I was playing today, no matter what happens after.”
Derek was taken aback. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she snapped. “Not your problem, right?”
“I’m really glad you’re playing, but I don’t want to see you make yourself even sicker.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything. Derek knew why—for Avery this game was all about her brother. She would start thinking about herself again when the game was over.
“Well, all right!” Derek said. “Let’s go out there and have a blast, huh?”
“Go, Yanks!” she replied.
“GO, YANKS!” they both yelled together.
Chapter Fifteen REACHING FOR GLORY
The coaches and umpires met on the mound and shook hands. This is it, thought Derek. The big game.
He’d played mostly great all season, but if he messed up in this game, everything he’d done till now would go right up in smoke!
Derek shook off the negative thoughts. Time to quiet that little voice inside his head. Time to focus so sharply on the moment that there would be no room for the little voice—no room for doubt and fear.
He watched the Tigers take the field. Spotting Dave was easy, because of how tall he was. He wore number 17 and was playing third base.
Derek caught Dave’s attention and tipped his cap in a gesture of respect. Dave returned the gesture, smiling briefly before settling into fielding position.
“Come on, Mase!” Derek yelled as the Yankees’ leadoff hitter stepped into the box.
“Play ball!” shouted the ump.
The Tigers’ starter was the kid he’d seen in the stands before the game—with the man scribbling all the notes.
The pitcher went into his windup—and Derek saw the fastest pitch he’d seen all season. It sailed right by Mason, who swung way too late. Two pitches later Mason walked back to the bench, an easy strikeout victim.
Derek swallowed hard. He’d heard about this kid from Dave earlier in the season. If there was one reason the Tigers were now 7–2, Derek was now looking at him.
Derek let the first pitch go by, just to get a feel. It missed, low. But Derek knew he’d have to start his swing early if he wanted to catch up to the next one.
He fouled it off, and winced, mad at himself. Almost! On the next pitch he was ready even earlier—but the pitcher was smart as well as talented. He threw Derek a slow changeup. It made Derek look silly, finishing his swing before the ball hit the catcher’s mitt. Again, Derek adjusted his thinking—but now he had no idea what would be coming.
It was a fastball, and Derek swung wildly, hitting nothing but air.
Two outs.
Pete, at least, managed to hit a fair ball—even if it was only a grounder to second. And that was their first inning, going down one, two, three.
“Yeah!” Dave shouted, pounding his mitt. “Great job, Brad!”
The pitcher raised a hand in acknowledgment as he strutted back to the bench. Derek knew Brad was going to be a tough challenge for them all. But he promised himself he’d do better the next time he came up.
After grabbing his glove, he ran out to short and threw a couple of practice grounders to Avery at second, just to get loose. Harry threw his warm-up pitches, and the hitter came up to the plate.
Derek knew Harry liked to keep hitters guessing. Harry had a pretty good fastball. Nothing like Brad’s, but above average. But his real skill was deception. He had a tricky changeup, along with a hesitation in his windup that threw batters’ timing off.
When the leadoff man went down swinging on a full count, Derek let out a whoop. “Way to go, Harry!” he shouted.
Maybe Harry could match Brad, zeros for zeros. Maybe—if he was really at the top of his game…
But the next batter walked, and up came Brad. He worked the count even to 2–2, then laced a single to left center, sending the runner to third.
Next was Dave, looking focused and dangerous. Derek was impressed, proud that his friend had been named the Tigers’ cleanup hitter. Derek had worked with him on his game a lot, and Dave had sure come a long way in two years! When he’d first arrived in Kalamazoo, he’d had barely any baseball experience.
Dave lined one into the second-base hole. It looked like a sure hit—but Avery dived for it, snagged it on the short hop, checked the runner back to third, and flicked it to Derek at second. In stride he threw on to first, just in time to complete the double play!
A huge cheer erupted from the Yankees players and fans. The players practically ran back to the bench, excited to go on offense, and thrilled that the Tigers hadn’t scored on what looked like a sure hit!
The cheer was matched by the moans from the Tigers side of the field. Dave, deprived of an RBI, walked slowly back to the bench, with a sad smile on his face. He pointed to Avery as he went. “Nice play!”
She pointed back at him, acknowledging the compliment.
“You too, Derek!” Dave added, pointing at him.
Derek touched the front of his cap as he sat down on the bench.
“Let’s go!” Coach Stafford urged his team. “Make him throw strikes. We’ve got to run up his pitch count so he hits his limit early!”
Derek could tell Coach K didn’t think the Yankees could score off Brad.
We’ll see about that, he thought.
One thing was sure—in order to hit Brad’s pitches, they had to believe they could.
Derek, for one, believed he could hit anybody—especially if he’d already seen them once.
But did the rest of the Yankees believe?
They did take more pitches in the second inning, making Brad throw a bunch, but it didn’t result in any base runners. Avery pounded the head of her bat into the ground when JJ struck out to end the frame, stranding her in the on-deck circle.
She would have had an at bat this inning, Derek knew. But because she’d shown up late, the coach had had to pencil her in at the last minute, and stuck her in the seventh slot instead of her usual fifth in the order. No wonder she was so frustrated.
Harry fared better in his half of the second. He did give up a single with two outs, but he put up another zero. And that was ultimately what mattered now.
Avery led off the third. The pitcher stared in at her for a really long time. Then he threw one inside that made her jump out of the way.
Some of the Yankees booed. Derek didn’t think Brad was trying to hit her, just scare her—which was well within the rules—except he hadn’t pulled that on any of the
hitters who weren’t girls.
Avery got right back in there, determined to show him she wasn’t afraid. When she lined the next fastball right back at him, it was Brad’s turn to duck out of the way! The ball sizzled straight into center field for the Yankees’ first hit of the game!
“WOO-HOO!” Avery yelled as she rounded first, clapping her hands. “Let’s go!”
Unfortunately for the Yankees, giving up a hit to a girl seemed to make Brad angry—and his pitches even nastier. Vijay ducked out of the way on a called third strike. Tre’ popped up to the catcher on a wicked changeup.
With two outs Mason hit a soft grounder down the line. But by the time the first baseman fielded it, Mason was already past him!
“SAFE!” called the ump.
Derek came up, with two out and two on, determined to have a better at bat this time. Brad started him off with a changeup, but Derek didn’t bite. He worked the count to 2–1, then fouled off six straight pitches. He took another ball, fouled off three more pitches, and finally hit a screamer to second.
The fielder got his mitt on the ball, but it scooted a few feet away, and everyone was safe! Bases loaded!
Pete came up, taking some ferocious practice swings. “Easy… easy,” Derek said under his breath, hoping Pete could read his thoughts.
But Pete was determined to hit one out of the park. He swung through two fastballs, then popped a changeup weakly back to the mound, leaving three Yankee runners high and dry.
Derek felt it like a punch to the gut. He could only imagine how Avery felt, with her stomach already hurting.
She sure wasn’t letting on. Derek saw her kick the dirt as she got her mitt and headed out to second, as silent as the grave.
He sure hoped she was okay—that she’d be all right after this. Maybe it would have been better for her health if she hadn’t played, but for his sake and the team’s, he was sure glad she was out there right now!
Harry ran into trouble in the bottom of the third. He walked the leadoff man, who stole second when a pitch got away from JJ. When the next hitter walked, Coach K came trotting out to the mound to calm Harry down.
It seemed to work. He struck out the next batter, and then up came Brad again, with Dave on deck.
With a sweet swing, Brad hit a long fly to center. Mason caught it, but both runners tagged up and advanced on the play.
Could have been worse, thought Derek. Second and third with two out, and once again Dave coming to the plate in a critical spot.
Dave swung at the first pitch and lined it over Derek’s head.
Derek leapt—and came down with it!
Dave let out a yowl and put his head in his hands. Once again he’d been foiled by his best friend! And the Yankees had avoided doom by the skin of their teeth.
Dave looked at him and shook his head. Derek could see the frustration on his face, but Dave cared enough to give Derek his props with a pointed finger.
That made twice this game, Derek thought with satisfaction—though he wished it hadn’t been Dave he’d frustrated.
“Keep making the pitcher work!” Coach Stafford told his troops. “We’ve got to make this inning his last!”
Harry got them started, running up a full count before swatting a clean double down the left field line. Ryan followed by working a walk.
The pitches were starting to pile up for Brad, but he didn’t seem any the worse for wear. His pitches were still whistling in, faster than a speeding bullet.
JJ couldn’t stand up to those fastballs, and after battling for seven pitches, he went down swinging. Then up came Avery.
Derek saw Brad dig in extra deep, wanting more than anything else to show up this girl, who’d had the nerve to embarrass him by getting a hit off him!
He buzzed her again on the first pitch—but if he thought that would scare Avery, he had no idea who he was dealing with. She edged even closer to the plate and hit the next pitch so hard, it glanced off the first baseman’s glove and bounced six feet away from him!
It became a footrace to first between Avery and Brad, who was hustling over to take the throw. They got there at the same time and collided! Avery went flying into foul territory, while Brad fell the other way, dropping the ball!
“Safe!” cried the ump. “Everybody’s safe!”
Avery got up, dusted herself off, and yelled “YEAH!” looking straight at Brad, who certainly wasn’t going to apologize. It might have been a rough play, but it was a clean one, and they both knew it.
Bases loaded now, with only one out. Vijay swung at the first pitch and hit a pop foul that the Tigers’ catcher caught easily.
Now it was up to Tre’. He took two strikes, then stroked a looper down the left field line! Derek thought for sure it would drop in for a double—but Dave launched himself into the air, reached out to the full extent of his tall frame, and made the leaping catch!
Derek groaned in agony, along with all his teammates and the Yankees’ fans.
This was too much! How many men had they left on base already? Derek knew scoring chances didn’t grow on trees.
He took a moment to point to Dave. “Great play, man.”
Dave smiled. “Now we’re even.” He blew out a deep breath, as if to say, Some game, huh?
Incredibly, the game was still scoreless. But it didn’t stay that way for long.
Chapter Sixteen FIGHT TO THE FINISH
Harry had stood tall on the mound for three straight innings, but he’d spent a lot of pitches doing it. He worked the first hitter to a 3–2 count—with the two strikes being long drives that fell just foul.
Not wanting to walk the leadoff man, Harry then grooved a so-so fastball, right down the plate. The hitter pounced on it, driving it to right center for a ringing double!
Derek saw his two coaches talking in low voices, looking over at Harry. They had to be deciding whether to pull him now or leave him in. In the end, they stayed with him.
It turned out to be the wrong move. Harry fell behind in the count again, then had to throw one over the middle. The batter hit it on the nose for another double—scoring the first run of the game!
Harry kicked the dirt, disgusted with himself. It was just one run, but this late in the game, it felt like they were down ten runs, not one.
“Hang in there, Harry!” he shouted. “Let’s go!” No way was Derek going to let his team go down in defeat—not without a fight!
Harry was tiring, that much was obvious. But the coaches kept him in there, hoping their best pitcher could stop the bleeding.
Sure enough, Harry rallied to strike out the next man for the first out of the inning.
Facing the Tigers’ number eight hitter, Harry got ahead in the count, 0–2. “Come on, Harry!” Derek shouted. “No batter, no batter!”
Harry nodded, pulled the bill of his cap down over his eyes, reared back, and threw. The hitter sent a ground ball the opposite way. It wasn’t hit hard, but it was placed perfectly between Avery and Ryan. It skittered between them into right field, and the Tigers’ second run scored!
Coach K practically ran out to the mound—as if it weren’t already too late. “Mullins!” he called, motioning for her to take the mound.
As the downcast Harry walked to the bench, Coach K handed Avery the ball. “You okay?”
She nodded vigorously, staring into space, in a world of her own.
“Okay, kid. It’s showtime.” He clapped her on the back and headed for the dugout, shaking his head.
Avery blew out a big breath, then toed the rubber, staring in at the catcher. She wound up, then fired a fastball over the inside corner.
The hitter backed away, but the ump yelled, “Strike one!”
Avery took the return throw and got right back onto the rubber. She was breathing hard, all intensity and fire. The next pitch was a changeup, and the hitter swung early, catching only air.
“Strike two!” the ump called.
The Yankees fans were cheering their hearts out, but the playe
rs behind Avery didn’t make a sound. They were all holding their breaths.
Avery fired a fastball, high and outside. Protecting the plate with two strikes, the hitter reached for it, and hit a grounder straight to Derek. He flipped to second for one, and the throw to first was in plenty of time to complete the double play.
Inning over!
“YAAAAAHHHH!” Avery screamed, pumping her fist repeatedly as she marched back to the bench, still staring straight ahead.
Derek grinned and shook his head in admiration. He liked to think of himself as an intense competitor. But Avery? She took the cake!
“Okay, team, let’s get those runs back!” Coach K shouted, clapping his hands in encouragement.
Mason was up first—top of the order—and Derek was optimistic. They had the right guys up to start a rally.
Even better, the Tigers had a new man on the mound.
Thank goodness! Derek thought. He hadn’t been relishing the thought of having to face Brad again, who was now playing first base, having reached his pitch limit.
Mason saw six pitches before popping up to short center. It was enough for Derek to determine that this pitcher wasn’t nearly as intimidating as Brad.
Derek stepped confidently into the box. He knew this was probably his last at bat of the season, and he was determined to get a rally started.
Be smart, he told himself. We’re two runs down. You can’t win it with one swing. Just get on base.
He let one strike go by, just to get the timing right. Then, on a 2–1 count, he hit a chip shot over the first baseman’s head. Derek didn’t stop running until he was on second base!
“Let’s GOOO!” he roared, clapping his hands together so hard that it hurt. “Come on, Pete! Keep the line going!”
Derek hoped Pete got the message. Pete was always trying to hit home runs—and as a result he struck out a lot. The Yankees couldn’t afford that now.
One thing about Pete, though—he was big and intimidating. The pitcher must have been at least a little scared, because everything he threw him was away.
He wound up walking Pete, who jogged down to first muttering to himself, frustrated that he hadn’t gotten anything to hit.
