by Joe Jackson
They won another game that week, beating the Eagles by a 10 to 2 score with Willie Brown pitching for the Cougars. Jake Jones hit his second home run over the center field fence. Carlos Rodriguez also hit a home run. Matthew Davis came through with four hits in five times at bat.
At the end of the week, the league standings appeared in the Springdale newspaper and Michael studied them carefully with Willie Brown, Andy Wilson, and little Daniel Garcia. The American League standings showed the Cougars undefeated and leading their league. Dusty Taylor’s Red Sox were in last place.
Willie Brown pointed at the paper and he said to Michael slyly, “What do you think of Dusty Taylor’s Red Sox now, Michael?”
Michael just shook his head perplexed. The Red Sox had lost their first two games and were now in last place in the American League standings.
“Everybody wanted to play for Taylor,” Andy grinned, “but you’ll notice Coach Anderson’s team is on top.”
“We’ll stay there too,” Daniel said slowly. “We’re going to win the pennant in this league and then we’re going to beat the winners of the National League in Springdale and then…”
“Hey,” Andy broke in laughing. “We’ve only played two games so far, Daniel. We might lose the next ten.”
Little Daniel shook his head and said, “We have the two best pitchers in the league, in Josh Miller and Willie here, and we have the best hitters.”
Michael sat on one of the basement benches listening to the talk. It was Saturday morning and with none of the league games scheduled for that day, Coach Anderson had called a practice session at the park grounds for that afternoon.
“Lots of things we have to work out,” Coach had told them after the Eagles win. “Some of you boys aren’t hitting yet and the infield is a little sloppy, especially the throwing. Then there is base stealing, bunting and sliding techniques that we really need to work on. It always helps us to practice whenever we can. We have to get the fundamentals down; we have to be fundamentally sound out there on the field.”
It was a hot and humid Saturday in late June, when the Cougar squad straggled down to the playing field. When Michael arrived with Willie Brown from his block, he found Matthew, Carlos, and Jake sitting on the bench waiting for them.
Ethan was playing catch with Tyrone Johnson out on the field. Cris Martinez and Joseph Williams were just coming up from the water cooler, sweaty, dusty; then Coach Anderson drove up in a shabby little roadster he had just bought. It was painted green, at least fifteen years old and it made a great deal of noise as he rolled into the parking lot nearby. It was another rust-bucket.
Michael saw Jake and Matthew Davis eyeing the old car thoughtfully and then Jake said, “Old junk-heap. You see Dusty Taylor’s big SUV. He can almost get the whole team in it.”
“Well, that SUV can’t hit, can’t field, and certainly can not throw a baseball. Therefore, that big SUV will never win a ballgame. Besides, last time I looked, the team riding around in that big SUV is in last place,” Andy said from the other end of the bench.
Andy had just come up and was putting on his new baseball shoes, a nice pair with the molded cleat design that all the players seemed to be wearing these days. Andy’s father had bought him the shoes after the outfielder had made three hits in the Eagle game.
Coach Anderson bustled up. He wore baggy slacks, a faded blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a baseball cap. As usual, he was smiling broadly, clapping his hands, full of pep.
He said, “What do you think about a little batting practice right now, gang? I want you to think about your hitting zone, concentrating and expecting a pitch in your zone every time you get up to bat. Cris, you can do the pitching for us.”
Then he looked at Michael and said, “Everybody here, Captain?”
“Everybody but Josh,” Michael told him, looking around.
Coach nodded. “Josh can not make it this afternoon,” he said, wiping the perspiration from his face. Carlos, who had been putting on his kneepads to catch for batting practice stopped, looked at the Cougar coach steadily and asked, “Why?”
Coach shrugged, “His mother’s text message earlier in the day confirmed that he had other plans. His family left for the weekend and Josh had to go along with them.”
Michael saw Carlos’s lips tighten and there was a grim smile on his face as he walked to the plate. Michael heard him say,
“Must be nice to be down at the beach on such a hot day like this? Too bad we all can’t go.”
Michael said quickly, “I think Josh would much rather be here with us, Carlos. He couldn’t help it if his folks decided to leave town for the weekend.”
“Okay,” Carlos growled. “I didn’t mean anything, Michael.”
Michael trotted out to second base and he watched as Coach Anderson worked with Ethan and Tyrone at the plate. Neither player had done much as of yet and Ethan had been especially weak, striking out four times in the two games played.
Coach worked patiently with his skinny shortstop, getting him to change his batting style. Ethan had been taking a full wild swing at the ball. Coach was trying to get him to shorten his bat by choking up on it. Coach wanted Ethan to punch at the ball as it came in, just meet it with the bat. Coach kept repeating, “Let the bat do the work for you.”
It took a while for Ethan to catch on and the players in the field became impatient. Matthew, waiting out in deep short, slapped his glove a few times and kept muttering to himself that Coach had made a big mistake signing Ethan with the club and that they’d do better to trade him to the lowly Eagles, or even down to the lower league in Springdale. It was a league comprised of younger, less capable ball players.
Michael edged over toward the redhead and he said quietly, “If Ethan hears you talking like that, Matthew, it’ll be a little harder for him. Ethan is trying his hardest and he is a good infielder.
Davis laughed jeeringly. “Can’t hit, can’t field, and can’t run. What’s he good for?”
Matthew had no more said the words “good for” when Ethan lined a nice ball right between Matthew and Michael. Ethan managed to hit a few more balls sharply before Coach sent him out to the field. Coach then went to work with the tall Tyrone Johnson.
Ethan was not sure just where to go when he came out on the field with his glove. He looked at Davis, who was standing at short and he started out to the outfield. As he went past the redhead, Michael heard Davis say something. He could not make out the words, but the remark could not have been nice.
Ethan stopped and his face turned red. He stared at Davis for one long moment and Michael started to walk that way, thinking Ethan was going to make an issue out of it. However, Ethan turned and walked away, looking down at the ground.
Tyrone had a wild uneven swing and Michael heard Coach Anderson saying to him patiently, “Keep your eyes on the ball, Tyrone. Don’t ever take your eyes off the ball when it’s coming toward the plate.”
Tyrone’s weakness was swinging the bat from the shoulder, so Coach had him drop the bat a little as the ball started to come in. This adjustment caused Tyrone to swing level and he no longer had the uneven swing he had been taking. His swing now looked very fluid.
Suddenly a loud metal noise was heard, not a “tink” but a “tunk” sound. They were all very surprised to see that Tyrone had finally caught hold of a ball and hit it far over Jake’s head in center field. Coach Anderson slapped Tyrone on the back as he left the plate. Tyrone was grinning with a very big smile.
Andy said to Michael, “That guy is going to be a hitter. Jake Jones has never hit a baseball that far in his whole life.”
Michael nodded. He was very happy that Tyrone seemed to be making strides. He played next to him on the infield and he had come to like Tyrone. Tyrone was quiet, but he gave his best all the time. He was working very hard on his fundamentals at first base.
They had an infield warm-up after the batting session and Michael was amazed at some of the stops Ethan made. Ethan covered a great deal of ground a
t short and his throws to first were hard and accurate. Matthew Davis, on the other hand, was just the opposite on his throws to first from third. Wild and inaccurate to describe his throws across the diamond would be an understatement. Where is Matthew’s head? Michael wondered to himself.
Coach worked them for thirty minutes, batting ground balls to each fielder, watching the way they handled the ball, making suggestions. His blue shirt became sweat stained, but his enthusiasm never let up. Michael could definitely see the improvement on the field after a while.
Coach trotted out to second base, letting Willie Brown hit the infield grounders. He worked with Michael and Ethan on double plays at second, showing them exactly how they were to handle the throws as they touched the bag while turning to whip the ball across to first.
Ethan had the habit of trying to get rid of the ball almost before he caught it and as a result, he threw wildly or dropped the ball, messing up the play. Coach worked with him to slow it down.
“Keep the runner off of second. Make sure we get him out before we try for the next one,” Coach grinned. “You work too fast and we lose both runners. We have to get the lead runner out coming down from first. He is most important. Keeping runners off second base is so important in this game of baseball. Remember that.”
He taught Michael how to whip the ball across the letters of his shirt, dragging his foot over the bag while taking Ethan’s throw. After a while, it became very smooth. “Don’t worry,” said coach. “We’ll get better. When you’ve done it a couple of thousand times you will be doing it in your sleep.”
They had sliding practice after that. Coach taught them how to hit the dirt, doing it himself a half of a dozen times. He demonstrated how they had to move in toward the bag in the hook slide, falling away from the infielder’s tag, giving him only the tip of the cleat, to hook the bag with one toe.
The Cougar coach was dirty and dusty when he got up to watch the players do it. His face streaked with sweat and dust.
The players lined up and slid into the bag one after the other with Coach Anderson standing by, watching each one, correcting them, and showing them how to avoid the “strawberry.” Daniel Garcia proved to be the best slider on the team. The small boy could run like the wind and he quickly caught on to the hook slide, literally flying into the bag, then fading away.
Carlos Rodriguez became another good slider. Carlos was the reckless type and he tore into the bag high and hard, hitting the ground with great force. When he got up after on of his slides, he looked at Michael grimly and said,
“You know, it is a lot cooler down at the beach, Michael?”
Michael slapped him on the back. “Forget about it, Carlos,” he smiled.
“Si, si!” Carlos scowled.
Matthew Davis did not like Ethan and Michael noticed that Jake would watch Tyrone Johnson occasionally, nonchalantly, with a small frown on Jake’s wide face. Jake was the acknowledged home run hitter of this team, gunning for the big trophy and now one of his own teammates had suddenly demonstrated that he could hit a very long ball too. Tyrone might well begin to challenge him for the honor.
The practice session broke up at four-thirty. Coach Anderson got into his car, dirty and sweaty. He smiled and waved to the team and then drove away. Michael gathered at the water cooler with the other players for a good drink of cold water.
It was at the water cooler that the ill feeling between Moore and Davis broke out into the open. Ethan was having a drink when the redhead came up, swaggering a little, with his glove dangling from his fingertips. Michael sensed trouble immediately and he looked around quickly to see the taillights of Coach Anderson’s car disappearing around the corner. With the Cougar coach gone, it was up to him as team captain to keep things in hand.
Davis said evenly, “Okay, Moore, hurry it up.” Ethan had just started to drink and he was thirsty. He lifted his head slightly and put it back down to the water cooler. Davis lifted his glove and slapped it hard across Ethan’s back. He said tersely,
“You heard what I said.”
Ethan straightened up then, his face white and Michael eased over to them hastily.
“There’s plenty of water here, Matthew,” Michael protested. “Let’s not start any trouble.”
Matthew Davis said grimly, “Move away, Moore.”
Ethan said slowly, “No.”
Davis pushed him hard then backed away, dropping his glove. Ethan straightened up and rushed at Matthew, in a full-blown rage. He hit the redhead a few times in the face, light blows, and then Davis, known as a tough street fighter, knocked him down with several sharp punches to Ethan’s face.
Michael moved in between them then, grasping the strong redhead’s arms. He said pleadingly, “Look, Matthew, we can’t have fights on this team. It is not good. Ethan’s one of our players. You are both on the same team.”
Ethan got to his feet, blood trickling from his cut mouth. He did not back down. He came around Michael, tears of rage in his eyes, knowing that he was going to take a licking from the huskier, stronger boy, but he was not afraid.
Davis broke away from Michael and as Ethan rushed at him, they met with a flurry of punches, Ethan getting the worst of it again, trying to hold his ground, punching back hard, but having to retreat as Davis kept charging him.
Again, Michael broke in between them and this time Carlos helped him. Michael had not anticipated Carlos as a source of help, figuring others did not want to have the tough Davis turn on them.
Carlos said sourly, “Cut it out, Matthew. You can lick this guy with one hand. Let it go at that.”
Davis stepped back, pushing Michael’s hands away. He said to Carlos, his face flushed, angry, pale blue eyes wild,
“Keep out of this, you chump.”
Carlos looked at him. “Don’t call me that,” he said slowly.
“Listen,” Michael begged, “we can’t have this whole club fighting.”
“He’s tough,” Matthew sneered. “Let’s see how tough he is.” He had forgotten about Ethan, recognizing the fact that Carlos, his own size and with a reputation of his own as a street fighter, was a better match.
Andy Wilson called suddenly, “Here comes a park attendant. We all better get out of here now.”
The park attendant had seen the fight between Ethan and Matthew and was walking toward them across the field. His presence broke everything up. Matthew left with Jake. Carlos, his catcher’s equipment under his arm, started north across the railroad tracks. Tyrone Johnson went with him. The others split up in different directions, going to their various homes. No doubt, now, there was bad blood between Davis and Rodriguez, the two toughest men on the Cougar team and two of the best batters.
Later that night at dinner Michael’s father said to him, “Well, with two straight wins in the league, it looks like your Cougars are going to make a clean sweep of the American League and get into the playoffs.”
Michael looked at him glumly.
“No?” his father asked curiously. “Are you having any trouble, Michael?”
Trouble, Michael thought miserably, is not the word. The word was TURMOIL.
“Tell me about it,” Mr. Smith urged.
Michael told him the story of the fight at the park and the remarks Carlos Rodriguez made about Josh Miller.
“I don’t think it’s just because Josh’s father is rich and Carlos’ father is poor,” Michael muttered. “It goes deeper than that.”
“Some boys just do not hit it off with other boys,” Mr. Smith said, nodding sympathetically. “I can see you have a problem on your hands, Michael, but keep your chin up. Things always look worse than they really are. When this team of yours really starts clicking you’ll see a big difference.”
Michael hoped fervently that this was so.
FIRE THE COACH
