by Joe Jackson
They drew the Nariko, Japan Thunder for the final game. The Nariko Thunder team was red-hot, having beaten their opponents by an average score of 14 to 2 to reach the championship game. They were reputed to be the heaviest hitting boys’ team in the tournament, and after watching them take batting practice, Michael was convinced that it was so. The balls seemed to jump off their bats, with every batter in their line-up able to hit the ball hard for distance. They were a confident team, knowing now the Cougars had been badly hurt with the injuries to two of their star players, Jake Jones and Tyrone Johnson.
Coach Anderson had to make hurried substitutions, putting Cris Martinez on first base and Joseph Williams in the outfield. Josh Miller started on the mound.
Tyrone Johnson sat on the bench. He pleaded that he be able, at least, to put on his uniform and sit with the team during the game. Jake Jones also sat on the bench watching glumly and when he got up, he limped around painfully.
Coach Anderson had a conference with the players before they took the field. The Cougar coach said quietly,
“We have our work cut out for us this afternoon, no doubt about it. We have lost two of our best players and we are facing an outstanding team, one of the best Little League teams in the world. Many people are counting us out already, but I know this team. You do not quit. That is why we are here. You have come a long way and you do not know how proud of you I am. Those boys put their pants on the same way you did this morning, one leg at a time. Now, go out there and play Cougar ball!”
Josh walked out to the mound, picked up the ball and looked at Carlos.
“Let’s go,” Carlos growled.
The first Thunder batter stepped into the batter’s box. He promptly lined a single to right field on the first pitch. The second batter doubled to left center, and the third bounced his hit off the center field fence, scoring both runners.
Coach Anderson waved his hands and came out to the mound, his face drawn. Josh seemed to be in a daze with the Thunder batters hitting him as if they owned him. He stood there with the ball in his hands, the Thunder players whooping it up in the dugout.
“How is it, Josh?” Coach asked.
“I don’t know,” Josh muttered. “I just can’t seem to get anybody out.”
“It’s a bad start, that is all,” coach told him consolingly. “You’ll settle down. Just take deep breaths, relax.”
Josh looked at Michael then at Matthew Davis, who had trotted in from third base. Matthew said tersely,
“Just keep firing that rock, Josh. We will get ‘em.”
Michael looked at Josh, “We always have.”
“You’re arm alright?” Coach asked him.
“Feels good,” Josh nodded. He had no excuses. The Thunder players had just hit his best pitches. It was just one of those things about this game of baseball.
“A team gets like that once in a while,” coach told him. “They’ll hit everything you throw up and then, without telling you a thing, they’ll stop hitting.”
“I sure hope so,” Josh murmured.
He was ready to pitch again and the next Thunder batter lifted a fly ball to right field. Joseph Williams, taking Jake’s place, danced around underneath it, looking very nervous, and lost the ball. Another run scored while the batter went to second.
Michael walked the ball to Josh and his face was gray now. This was the biggest game of their lives, and they looked as if they were falling apart. In this game, they needed to be playing their best.
The Little League World Series Championship jitters were taking possession of them. After all these long weeks of tournament play, each game harder than the previous one, they were nervous.
Ethan let a ground ball go through his legs for another error and the fourth Thunder run crossed the plate, still no outs. Michael saw Coach Anderson in the dugout, his gaunt face very serious. Coach said, “We’ll settle down, Josh. Do not let it get to you. This is just a bad start.”
Michael knew deep down in his heart, in a six-inning ball game, you could not let a team get a big lead if you wanted to be in it to win it. Right now, the Nariko Thunder had a good lead, but this was baseball. Anything could happen.
The Cougars were not particularly looking for a bunt now and the next Thunder bunter laid a beauty down the third base line, catching Matthew Davis dozing.
The redhead lunged in very late, kicking the ball away and both runners were safe on first and second with no one out. The disappointed Springdale crowd stared in amazement. This was not the team, which had clawed its way through all the opposition, up through the district and sectional titles, then on to the regional, and through the Little League World Series tournament, to get here.
Even Michael started to feel it now. A kind of panic swept through him, something he had not ever felt before in a game. He had been nervous at times, butterflies some would call it, but this was different. This was fear. He found himself hoping that a Thunder batter would not hit the ball in his direction.
They were playing back for the double play with Josh trying to keep the ball low so that the next Thunder batter would hit it into the dirt. Then, the batter did just that and hit it straight at Michael Smith.
Michael watched the ball bouncing and spinning towards him, a sharply hit ground ball, ideal for the double play. It was just a routine play for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ethan moving towards second to cover. The runner from first was streaking down towards second.
The ball bounced off the turf and onto the hard dirt of the infield. Michael put his hands down the way he had done a thousand times before. He remembered to keep his glove relaxed on the ground, the way coach had taught him when handling ground balls, but something happened. He did not know how, but the ball went through his legs. He felt it brush his glove lightly and then horrified, he whirled to watch it roll rapidly out toward right center field with Daniel Garcia sprinting in to recover it.
There was another big roar from the crowd as the fifth Thunder runner crossed the plate in this blowout. Coach Anderson called for time, his second of the inning.
He walked out onto the field, calling the whole infield to the mound. Michael walked in, sick to his stomach, wishing he were back in Springdale, wishing the Cougars had never come this far in the tournament. It would have been better to be eliminated in the first round of the district play off championship game than to come down to Williamsport and disgrace themselves as they were doing here and on television all over the world. This game was rapidly becoming a farce with no Thunder player out yet, five runs in, and two Thunder runners on base.
Coach Anderson looked at the infield when they came to him. Matthew Davis, Ethan Moore, Michael Smith, and the first base substitute for Tyrone Johnson, Cris Martinez.
“This is a bad one,” coach said slowly. “This is a bad start. Right now is when the losers quit. You guys want to quit and go home or do you want to finish this ball game?”
No one said anything. Coach Anderson went on softly, “This team has never quit on me before, and I don’t expect it to quit now. I do not care if they score a thousand runs on you this inning. Stay in there. Give it everything you’ve got.” He looked at every player on the mound, his eyes to their eyes, with a light grin.
Josh blurted out, “You still want me to pitch, Coach?”
“I am going all the way with you this game Josh,” coach told him. “Just keep throwing strikes and we will build some character.”
Coach’s eyes twinkled as he turned to go. Then he turned back around and said, “You boys remember the old story about the baseball game between two teams and a guy asks them the score? Well, one kid says 24 to 0 and the guy says to the other team, ‘aren’t you boys worried?’ ‘No,’ another kid replied, ‘we haven’t come up to bat, yet.’”
Matthew Davis grinned a little, a slight, feeble grin. He turned and he said to Ethan,
“You miss another one Ethan; I will rub your face in the dirt. You hear me?”
Ethan managed to smile. There was no
malice in the redhead’s voice. These two boys had played side by side through many tough, grueling games. Davis had seen Ethan break up a ball game with a base hit to keep them in the tournament. Ethan had seen Davis’s long home run clear the fence and win another game a few days before.
They went back to their positions and Josh prepared to pitch. He worked the next Thunder batter to a 3-2 count and then the batter lifted a fluke single behind third, the ball just clearing Matthew Davis’s outstretched glove.
Andy Wilson came in fast to field the ball, holding the runner at third, but the bases were loaded, still no outs. Coach Anderson shook his head in exasperation. It seemed as if everything was against the Cougars this afternoon.
Josh took a deep breath, looked toward the bench, and then prepared to pitch. The Thunder batter was rangy, long, and lithe, with a quick bat. He was one of their power hitters.
Josh quickly got two strikes on him. Michael could see that he was beginning to settle down and he had hopes. Then the Thunder batter swung at the next pitch that was on the outside corner. A loud “tink” sound told everyone in the park that his long bat connected with it solidly. The ball flew out over Michael’s head toward center field. It was hit very hard, a line drive.
Michael whirled to watch Daniel play the ball. Daniel was coming in very fast, running like a gazelle, but the ball was carrying further than Daniel realized. Michael stared at him, seeing Daniel’s mistake. That ball was still rising and Daniel thought it was falling!
Andy yelled from left field frantically at his friend Daniel, who pulled up sharply and began scrambling back. However, Daniel had already run in too far, too fast, and the well-hit line drive sailed right over his head all the way to the fence. Sick at heart again, Michael raced toward the outfield to take the cut-off throw. Daniel was running like a deer to the ball as the Thunder players rounded the bases, the Thunder fans going crazy.
By the time Michael caught the cut-off throw and whirled to fire to home plate, he saw the Thunder batter stepping on it, having made an inside the park home run with the bases loaded.
The score was now 9 to 0 for the Thunder and there were no outs. Michael walked to the mound with the ball. He handed it to the stricken Josh and he mumbled,
“All right, Josh, This is not your fault.”
Josh did not say anything. He took the ball from Michael’s hand and Michael walked back to his position. The excitement had died down and the crowd noise was mild. Breathless, laughing Thunder players sat in their dugout, confident that the game was over.
Daniel Garcia stood on the turf deep in center field. He looked very small, very still. Michael did not know it, but Daniel was crying already, crying so badly that if a ball had been hit in his direction he could not even have seen it.
Carlos stood behind home plate, his mask under his arm. Carlos had done no wrong as of yet. Carlos was still the rock, his brown face grim, unbeaten, talking it up.
“Let’s go,” Carlos roared. “Let’s go. Let’s go!”
Michael considered that, but there was no place to go. They were done, beaten by a better team, an infinitely better team. They had at last broken to pieces, this Cougar team of diverse backgrounds, this team that should not have won the Springdale league title with all of their team troubles, jealousies, and anger issues. They should have cracked wide open a long time ago, but it had to happen now, before this huge crowd in the championship game and on live broadcast television for the world to see!
“Let’s go,” Carlos growled, unfazed, this time from out in front of the plate. “Everybody, let’s go.”
Coach Anderson sat on the bench as stunned as any of the rest of them. He had not taken Josh from the game because he knew that if this team could hit Josh, they would devastate Cris Martinez or Joseph Williams. The bases were now empty and it was like the beginning of a new game. Michael would have given his right arm if it could be that way again. That would be nice, to re-start the first inning and have the first Thunder batter come back up, with no outs, no hits, no errors, and no runs.
“Let’s go,” Carlos screeched. “Throw it to me, Josh. Throw it to me, you rich bum.”
Josh looked at Carlos, at the boy from across the railroad track who was his battery mate. Carlos Rodriguez was not ridiculing him now. Carlos did not care about Josh’s family money, his yacht, or summer home. Carlos only cared about one thing. He wanted Josh to pitch the ball, to bear down on these Thunder batters, because Carlos still had faith in him.
Josh got his first strikeout on three straight fastballs as his heater began to sing. Michael watched him on the mound, the rich boy who had always had everything he wanted, but he could not buy this ball game, not with a billion dollars. He looked soundly whipped already, but Josh was not quitting because the poor boy from across the track, his battery mate would not let him.
“Right here, moneybags,” Carlos screamed. “Right here in this mitt. Make it pop.”
Josh struck out the next batter with two beautifully breaking curve balls.
He got the third man on an easy roller to the mound and then he walked slowly to the dugout, sat down on the bench, put his head down and let the tears flow.
Michael came in slowly. He saw Tyrone crying. Ethan sat down, looked at Josh and at Tyrone, and he started to shake a little. Daniel came in from center field, face tear-stained. He broke down completely when he came into the dugout and Coach Anderson had to grab him and hold him.
“My fault,” Daniel wailed. “It’s my entire fault. I lost the game. I cannot believe it. I lost the game.”
“Shut up,” Andy Wilson quavered. “Shut up and take it like a man.”
It was contagious and it was moving through the Cougar dugout. Michael felt the tears coming to his own eyes and he fought them back. The Cougars had been in an iron band of tension for weeks that had now drawn too tight and crushed them. They were like bundled springs, unable to control themselves. They felt beaten too. Michael could see that. Even if there were only one run scored by the Thunder, instead of nine, it would not matter. The Cougar’s knew it. They just did not have it anymore.
THE FAT LADY SINGS
