Little League Heroes

by Joe Jackson

Michael looked around the dugout. He wanted to say something, but he did not quite know what to say. He saw Carlos standing on the top step of the dugout with his kneepads and chest protector still on. Carlos held his mask under his arm and his cap was on backwards. His brown face streaked with sweat and dirt because it was a hot afternoon and he had been working hard behind the plate.

  Carlos snarled, “Crybabies! What is a lousy nine runs? Can we not make nine runs? Come on, play ball.”

  Coach Anderson was standing up, also smiling, and looking confident. “That’s the way to talk it up, Carlos. We are not done here yet. Everybody get a bat. Start hitting that ball.”

  Ethan stumbled out of the dugout and Michael followed him, bats in their hands. Jake called out to Michael,

  “Hit one for me, Michael.”

  Michael did not hit for him. The rangy Thunder left-hander had a snapping curve ball and plenty of movement on his fastball. He struck out Ethan, Michael rolled out to third, and Matthew popped up to short.

  The Thunder pitcher was very good and with a nine run cushioned lead he did not really have to be. Michael tried to hope something positive was going to happen, but it was very difficult to imagine. Nine runs were still nine runs no matter how mad Carlos Rodriguez got. He remembered that Tyrone and Jake were out of the line-up, with two weak hitters replacing them.

  “We’ll get ‘em,” Carlos snapped as he went out to start the second inning.

  Josh seemed to have found his stride in the second inning and he set the Thunders down in one-two-three order. Not one of the Thunders got the ball out of the infield this time around. Michael came up with a nice play on a ground ball and the Springdale crowd had a little something to cheer. It was not much though, not with that big 9 followed by a big 0 on the scoreboard.

  Carlos led off the bottom of the second, batting in the clean-up spot with Jake on the bench. He created a little excitement when he ripped a triple down the left field line. His headfirst slide into third beat the throw from the outfield.

  “That’s our start,” Coach Anderson yelled. “Everybody hits now.”

  Andy scored Carlos with a sacrifice fly to center field and the Cougars were on the scoreboard with one run. Josh then hammered a double to right and scored on Ethan’s single up the middle. He hit the dirt in another flying, headfirst dive at home plate, duplicating Carlos’ slide into third.

  Carlos helped Josh to his feet and pounded his back after Josh scored that run. Michael, waiting to bat, heard him say,

  “You slide like a guy from my side of town, Josh. Nice going’.”

  “Si,” Josh grinned. “Si, Carlos.”

  Michael sent Ethan to third on another single to right and the Springdale crowd started to make some noise. The Cougars were scratching away at that rangy left-hander and they were scoring runs.

  Matthew hit a hard shot over second, moving Michael to third and scoring Ethan. It was now 9 to 3 for the Thunders who suddenly did not seem to be so sure of their selves. The big crowd watching the Little League World Series was getting a bit more interested too. Was the momentum shifting?

  Daniel Garcia looked at Coach Anderson prior to stepping into the box. Coach hesitated one moment and then gave the sign to Daniel to bunt. Michael grasped the strategy immediately. The Thunder players were not looking for a sacrifice bunt from a team six runs down and Daniel was definitely a good bunter and very fast.

  Daniel dropped the ball down the third base line, catching the Thunder third baseman asleep. Michael held at third and the bases were now loaded with one out.

  The Springdale crowd started to whoop it up again. They were a small but noisy delegation at this big field and they were making themselves heard. The weak part of the Cougar batting order was coming up, Cris Martinez and Joseph Williams. Cris almost upset the applecart by sending a line drive straight at the third baseman, which, if it had gotten by him, would have gone for two bases. He was out, however, and Joseph Williams stepped into the batter’s box.

  On his very first pitch to Williams, the Thunder left-hander grazed Joseph on the thigh. Michael walked home for the fourth run of the inning. The bases were still loaded, but the Cougars also had two outs.

  It brought Carlos up and the Cougars needed some more runs badly. The entire Cougar team was out on the dugout steps offering encouragement, as he stood there at the plate, very quiet, hardly moving his bat, eyeing the opposing pitcher.

  Carlos hit another hard liner, which the center fielder fielded on one bounce. Matthew scored easily but Daniel held at third. The score was 9 to 5 and the Cougars were now back in the ball game. The Thunder coach came out and relieved the Thunder left-hander. A short, stocky right-hander came in to take his place.

  They were going crazy in the Cougar dugout. Ethan was up, with Michael on deck. Josh was yelling happily at Carlos on first base. Matthew was whooping, “Come on, Ethan! Come on, Ethan.”

  Michael, in the on-deck circle, turned his head to look at Matthew. He remembered the days when Matthew looked upon Ethan with contempt, and Carlos disliked Josh. Here in this final game of the Series, beaten and battered by this great Thunder team in the first inning, they were finding their selves. The team Coach Anderson had always wanted he now had, finally.

  The umpire allowed the new pitcher to take his warm-up pitches, and signaled Ethan to the plate. The shortstop watched one pitch for a called strike and then swung at the second, slicing it out toward left field, another line drive and apparent base hit.

  The Cougar runners were racing around the bases when the Thunder left fielder took a flying dive toward the ball, spearing it inches off the turf for the third and final out of the inning.

  Ethan looked as if he were going to cry again, when he trotted out to his position, but Matthew Davis called over to him encouragingly, “You couldn’t come any closer than that, Ethan. Shake it off”

  Josh retired the Thunder batters in order, two more strikeouts, and a slow roller out to Ethan. The Thunder right-hander followed suit with the Cougars, with one strikeout and two infield outs.

  Again, Josh took the mound and sent three Thunder batters back to the dugout with three straight strikeouts. Michael realized that Josh had pitched no hit-ball for four innings after the nine runs scored. Those heavy Thunder bats had been completely silent. They were not even getting a loud foul off Josh and his pitch count was excellent.

  At the end of the inning when Josh came in, Carlos waited for him on the foul line and they walked to the dugout together, Carlos grinning with one hand on Josh’s shoulder.

  “He’s good,” Carlos screeched in the dugout. “This guy is great. Have you ever seen him pitch like that? He is throwing gas.”

  Michael led off the bottom of the fourth. His mother and father were watching from the stands and he was using the bat his father had helped him purchase at the start of the season. It was a good bat and his father was yelling, wanting him to do something with it. He did by slashing a single over first on the very first pitch and the Cougars had new life.

  They needed only four runs to tie it up now and those four runs did not look so big anymore. They were proving this afternoon that they could play when down, that they would not stop fighting until the fat lady sings. Now, the Thunder players worried and fought the Series jitters.

  Matthew Davis dropped another single into right field and the frantic Thunder coach immediately yanked his right-hander and brought in another left-hander to stop these persistent Cougar bats.

  With Rodriguez, Wilson, and Garcia in order now, Michael was positive they were going to do something no matter who pitched for the Thunder. Rodriguez was up waiting, swinging two bats, looking out at the new pitcher warming up, looking at the two runners on the bases. Rodriguez had started all of this off and Michael just knew Carlos was not going to stop now.

  Jake boomed from the bench, “Come on, Carlos! Come on!”

  Carlos sent a torrid line drive between the right and center fielders. Michael was off with the crac
k of the bat, scoring easily, with Matthew Davis pounding the plate behind him. Carlos pulled up at second with a double and the score was 9 to 7 for the Thunder.

  The Springdale crowd was acting crazy when Andy Wilson came up with no outs and a man on second. Andy hit a long fly ball to center field and the Thunder center fielder pulled it in for the first out, with Carlos remaining on second.

  Daniel faked another bunt and then looped a single to left field. Carlos made a perfect turn at third base and pounded down the base path towards home. Again, with the Springdale players howling, Carlos went into the plate with another flying, headfirst slide, but this time he was a fraction of a second too late. The Thunder outfielder had made a beautiful throw to the plate and the catcher was able to tag Carlos’ shoulder as he came in. The umpire waved him out.

  Daniel skipped down to second on the throw and it was two away with Cris Martinez batting, the score still 9 to 7 for the Thunders.

  They begged Cris to come through with a hit and Cris almost made it. His line shot down the right field line landed foul by about six inches. It would surely have been a double if it had stayed in.

  On the next pitch, Cris made the third out on a ground ball to second and the side was retired. The Thunder came off the field to start the fifth inning. Michael trotted out to second base, wondering if they would make it. They had come so far, but two big runs separated them from the Thunder lead. He knew with only two innings remaining those runs could be very hard to get. After all, this was baseball.

  Josh was really pitching though, throwing his beautiful curve ball while mixing it up with fastballs and change-ups the way Coach Anderson had taught him to and the Thunder batters could not touch him. Josh was masterfully manipulating their timing. Again, they went down in order, a strikeout, and an easy fly to Daniel, and then a slow roller to Michael. Josh had set down fifteen straight batters without a hit, without even one Thunder batter reaching first base.

  The crowd seemed to realize it too and they gave him an ovation as he walked off the field towards the dugout. They knew what it had taken out of Josh for him to settle down like that after a team had scored nine runs in one inning.

  Michael noticed that Carlos sat with Josh on the bench now, discussing the Thunder batters between innings. They were real battery mates in every sense of the word. It was no longer Josh Miller from Nob Hill and Carlos Rodriguez from the apartment complex on the other side of the track. They were Miller and Rodriguez, the battery for the Springdale Cougars.

  “Two runs,” Coach Anderson said. “We need two more, gang. Let’s put it on ice now.”

  Joseph Williams went down with an infield fly and it was one away with Josh coming up to bat. The big Series crowd gave Josh a big round of applause again, and he reddened a little as he walked to the plate to bat.

  Ethan was on deck, with Michael following him. Since the early innings of the game, all of the Cougars had been swinging a good bat.

  Josh started the ball rolling again. The Cougar pitcher ripped a line drive single out to center field. The Cougar players started to yell as Ethan came up to the plate, and Ethan responded with another single to left field, sending Josh to second.

  Knowing the Cougars needed another hit, Michael came up to the plate resolved to do just that. The new Thunder left-hander had a nice curve ball and he broke the first pitch right over the plate. Michael waited for another, looking for a pitch in his zone, one he could really pop. With a 1-1 count, he got it and hit the pitch right back up the middle for another single. This was the third single in a row for the Cougars. Josh did not try to score on the hit because the center fielder fielded it quickly and he had great throwing arm, a cannon.

  The bases were loaded now and the always-tough Matthew Davis in the batters box with Rodriguez on deck. There was a long conference between the Thunder coach and the players out on the mound. Davis just stood there to one side of the plate, watching them, not smiling.

  Michael watched him from first base. He saw Carlos talking to him, and he remembered the days when Carlos and Matthew had punched one another at the ball field. Those days were behind them now.

  They were going to leave the left-hander in the game and Michael suspected it was because the Nariko Thunder did not have any other good pitchers, the Cougars having pummeled every one of them.

  Matthew Davis stepped up to the plate, waved his bat at the Thunder pitcher, and waited for the delivery. The Thunder infield was playing back for the double play at second with one away.

  The big series crowd was literally bubbling over with excitement. The fathers of the Cougar players were all hoarse from shouting. J. C. Miller sat with Luis Rodriguez and Mr. Wilson, the electrician. They were all leaning forward, sweating it out. Matthew Davis’s dad was a few seats away, yelling at his son, and shaking his fist.

  The redhead appeared a lot calmer than his father did. He stood there at the plate, his bat on his shoulder, waiting for the pitch. The Thunder left-hander wound up and delivered him a curve on the outside corner. Matthew fouled off the second pitch, putting him in a hole with the count now 0-2, no balls and two strikes.

  The redhead remained calm. With confident coolness, he watched the Thunder pitcher while taking a ball and then another ball. On the 2-2 pitch, he swung at a curve and connected with it solidly, driving it down the third base line.

  The Thunder third baseman lunged at it and the ball skipped off his glove and rolled down the line towards the left field corner. Josh tore in from third with one run and Ethan streaked down the path, crossing over home plate in a blur with the tying run.

  The stadium went wild. Pandemonium broke out in the Springdale dugout. Everybody was standing up and screaming. Matthew Davis stood on first base, grinning. Jake Jones, bad leg and in pain, did a war dance in front of the Cougar dugout.

  Coach Anderson just stood there; scarcely able to believe they had tied up the game after being nine runs down. Even the umpires out on the field were shaking their heads in amazement and admiration.

  This time the Thunder coach removed the left-hander from the game and another Thunder pitcher took over, a right-hander. It was now one away with runners on first and second, and Carlos batting, a tough batter for any new pitcher to face. Carlos was on fire and he was not stopping, not with victory in their grasp.

  The excitement died down a little as the Thunder pitcher took his warm-up pitches and then they were ready to go. Michael waited on second. He watched Carlos adjust his batting helmet and take his familiar, widespread stance at the plate.

  The Thunder pitcher pitched the ball and Carlos drove another line drive out to right field. Michael took off with the crack of the bat, knowing this might be the winning run of the ball game. As he streaked toward third, he saw his third base coach waving him on, and he drove his left foot off the inside corner of the bag, legging it for home.

  He saw the faces of the Cougar players as they tumbled out of the dugout, screaming. He kept running. The Thunder catcher was waiting for the throw-in, very tense, glove raised. It was going to be close, very close.

  Ten feet from the plate, Michael stretched out into a long, headfirst slide. He went in on his stomach, reaching for the plate with his hands, scraping past the Thunder catcher. When his fingers finally contacted the smooth rubber surface of the plate, he felt the ball being jammed into the middle of his back.

  He heard the howl of joy then, from the Cougar dugout, and he looked up to see the umpire crouching above him, both hands down, palms flattened toward the ground. “Safe,” the umpire screamed. The score was 10 to 9, this time for the Cougars.

  The Cougar players came out to pick him up and carry him off the field and into the dugout, sweaty, dusty, breathless, but grinning ear to ear. A glum Thunder team waited on the field for the game to continue. There were runners on second and third with only one out.

  They intentionally walked Andy Wilson, filling the bases, hoping for the double play, and they succeeded with Garcia hitting a bounce
r back to the mound. The pitcher threw the ball back to home and the catcher whipped it to first just ahead of the fast Garcia. The inning was over, but the Cougars led by one run, and Josh had not given up a hit or a walk since the bad first inning. It was the sixth and last inning now, with only three outs standing between the Cougars and the world championship.

  They raced out onto the field, confident of victory now. They were a team you could not beat, you would not be beat, and they had the greatest Little League pitcher in the world on the mound.

  Josh was very calm, very relaxed, pitching carefully, steadily.

  He got the first Thunder batter on a roller down to Davis. He worked slowly on the next man, working him to a full count of 3-2, and then struck him out with a nasty curve.

  The entire crowd was standing up now with two out in this last inning of the game, no runners on the bases, the game practically over. Coach Anderson kept calling from the dugout,

  “Take it easy gang; very easy out there.”

  He was as nervous as the players were. Coach had not sat down since the first inning.

  Josh pitched to the Thunder catcher, getting two strikes on him. Michael stood at second, his hands sweating, head whirling, waiting. One more strike, one more out, and they were in.

  Josh was not going to give that next batter anything to drive. He worked very slowly. The batter fouled off two pitches. He raised the count to 3-2 and then fouled off two more pitches, with everybody on the field and in the stands on edge.

  The next pitch was inside and Josh thought it was good, as did Michael, who opened his mouth to yell. However, the umpire called ball, sending the batter down to first base, the first Thunder runner to reach a base since the first inning.

  Josh did not like it but he was not going to argue with an umpire. Michael could see that Coach Anderson did not like it either. He thought that last pitch was a strike too, but Coach did not come out of the dugout.

  They were not arguing with umpires this afternoon, knowing the man behind the plate was calling them just as he saw them, but they still thought the ball had been a strike.

  The tying run was on first and the game was not over. Michael felt the tension coming back even now, with two out and Josh pitching beautifully.

  The Thunders took their pitcher out of the game and put in a pinch hitter to bat for him. The pinch hitter rubbed dirt on his bat and stepped up to the plate very determined.

  He swung at the first pitch, hitting it out towards right field where Joseph Williams was playing in Jake’s place. When Michael saw the ball sailing out that way, he suddenly became horribly frightened. The well-hit ball was flying quickly towards the fence.

  Joseph backed up for it. He backed all the way to the fence. He was nervous, moving from one side to the other. He was right back against the low fence now, reaching up for the ball.

  Then it happened, and it was a baseball freak play if Michael had ever seen one. He could not believe his eyes. The ball struck the palm of Joseph’s glove, bounced out and over the fence.

  For a very long moment, there was absolutely no sound on the field. Then, the big Thunder crowd came alive. A boy in the Thunder dugout was screaming insanely. The Thunder batter was rounding first, going towards second, and Michael watched him pull up, slowing into his home run trot for he realized he had just hit one. This pinch hitter had just given the Thunder the lead again at 11 to 10.

  It did not make sense and it was not fair. It was a trick played on the Cougars somehow by an unknown evil baseball god. The ball had bounced out of the glove and then had passed over the fence without touching the ground; therefore, it was a home run.

  Joseph Williams stood there, staring toward home plate, shoulders drooping, his glove at his side as the two runners crossed the plate to score. The Springdale crowd watched, stupefied, unable to accept the fact that this amazing come from behind victory had just been taken from their hands.

  Josh went on pitching, still very cool, unperturbed. He struck out the final Thunder batter and the Cougars ran in for the last bat of the sixth and final inning.

  Josh waited at the top of the dugout for Joseph to come in and Joseph looked sick as he crossed the infield from right field. He was crying too, the way Daniel Garcia had cried, and his hands were twitching. Josh gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder as Daniel entered the dugout to show him that there were no hard feelings because of his disastrous and freaky error.

  Joseph sat down with his face in his hands. He was shaking convulsively and Coach Anderson sat down next to him, talking to him calmly.

  Coach called every one around and while looking at each of them with a big grin he said, “In case any of you ever wondered, this is why we play six innings. Isn’t this the most exciting game you have ever played in? Huh? Now, it is our turn to bat and I believe in you, so let’s ‘get ‘ur done.”

  Cris Martinez was up to hit and Joseph was to bat second, but everyone could see he was in no condition to do that. He was not himself and it would be a while before he calmed down.

  The Cougars were one run behind with the bottom of their lineup coming to bat. Could they pull off another miracle? It hardly seemed possible. That fluke home run had been a crushing blow, a knockdown, one that might not let them get back up. Was that their destiny? Their Coach did not think so. After all, this was baseball. You played it until the final out.

  Martinez was determined, but he flied to left field for the first out. Michael was out on the dugout steps with the others and he turned to see what Coach Anderson would do about Joseph Williams. Then he saw the injured Jake Jones standing in front of Coach, talking rapidly. Jake had his favorite bat in his hands and it was apparent Jake wanted to bat for Joseph.

  Remembering some of Jake’s long home runs in the past, Michael felt his hopes rise a little. Jake could not run, but if he hit one over the fence, he would not have to. He could crawl around the bases to tie the score again.

  Coach Anderson finally gave his consent to Jake to bat and the boy hobbled out of the dugout, walking painfully with a bad limp to home plate. The crowd gave him a standing ovation, appreciative of this effort and remembering how Jake had hit in other games.

  The Cougars pleaded for a base hit. Josh was on deck behind Jake and then the top of the batting order would be up to bat again. If Jake could only get on base, they had a chance.

  Michael watched the strong and solid Jake dig in at the plate. He thought for sure that Jake would be aiming for the fences now, anxious to tie this ball game up with a home run while gaining greater glory for his self.

  However, Jake stayed very cool and very calm. He watched a strike go by and then he swung at the next pitch, meeting it solidly. He was not trying for a home run because he understood the importance of just getting on base for his team. The Cougars needed a base runner and they needed one now.

  The ball arched over third and rolled to the left field fence. The crowd screamed again as Jake hobbled down to first base. This hit would have been a stand up double for anybody else, but Jake just could not make it that far.

  Coach Anderson immediately sent Willie Brown in to run for Jake and Jake came back to the dugout, limping worse than ever, his face white. However, he had given them the new life that they needed.

  Everybody pounded Jake’s back as he came into the dugout. Coach Anderson said quietly,

  “Good boy, Jake. I knew you could do it.”

  “We can’t let you down, Coach,” Jake said and Michael realized something right then. This team of boys was killing itself to win this world championship. Maybe they thought they were doing it for their town, for their parents, for themselves, but the real reason became apparent now. They were fighting here tooth and nail, for Coach Anderson, the minor leaguer, who’d never been too much as a ball player himself, for this gaunt, kind, homely man, who loved and understood his team of Little League baseball players. It was obvious this team loved and respected their coach too.

  The Thunder pitcher was ve
ry nervous and he walked Josh Miller, putting runners on first and second with one away, with Ethan Moore coming up.

  Again, the excitement gripped the Cougar players the way it had gripped them every inning before. They had the tying and winning runs on base with the top of the lineup coming up.

  Ethan stood at home plate watching the pitcher. Michael was in the on deck circle, ready to bat next, gripping his bat, crouching, sweating. If Ethan went down it would be up to him to get the Cougars out of this jam.

  Ethan did not go down. The shortstop hit a single out to left field and Willie Brown, running like the wind, came in to score the tying run. With no cut-off made on the throw to the plate, Josh sprinted to third.

  It was Moore on first, Miller on third, with one away, and Michael at bat. The loud Springdale crowd could not make more noise. The game tied up again at 11 to 11, a crazy score in an unbelievable game.

  Michael stood at the plate, his nerves calming down. It was impossible that they lose now. Nothing could take this victory from them. A team like the Cougars could not lose. They refused to. If the Thunder had scored another nine runs in the previous inning, he still would have thought that. The Cougars would not quit and they would never give up.

  The Thunder pitcher finally pitched to Michael. He swung and smashed the ball hard, way out to center field. The Thunder center fielder went back for it and caught it, but he was in no position to throw Josh, who had tagged up at third, out at home. Josh Miller scored easily from third base with the winning run and the game was over. The Cougars had won and the place went wild!

  Michael came back from first. The entire Cougar team was a heaping congregation around home plate. They were pounding Josh Miller’s back. Carlos was climbing up on top of the heap. Even Jake was trying his best to get in on the celebration. Coach Anderson was behind them, watching, grinning.

  In the seats behind the Cougar dugout, another demonstration was going on. Cougar fathers were yelling, shaking hands with each other. J. C. Miller was pumping Luke Rodriguez’s hand. The mothers were crying with tears of joy. Reporters with microphones and news cameras appeared from all directions. Everyone wanted in on this moment.

  Coach Anderson looked over the heads of the Cougar players, at Michael coming down to join the celebration. Michael launched into the maelstrom of yelling, joy-crazed players. They pounded his back; they tore off his cap and threw it into the air.

  Michael saw Tyrone Johnson on the edge of the heap, waving, laughing, and grinning with his big smile, happy as any boy could be.

  “Michael,” Tyrone yelled. “Michael!”

  Michael waved back at him, crossed over, and gave him a big hug. He looked across at Coach Anderson, over near the dugout, standing alone. Coach was watching him, smiling. Coach saw them all together now, Matthew Davis and Ethan Moore, Jake Jones and Daniel Garcia, Josh Miller and Carlos Rodriguez, all of them, every walk of life fused together here in this mass of crazed joy around home plate. They were heroes, to themselves, to us all, but most importantly, they were heroes to each other.

  One thought was running through Coach David Anderson’s mind and Michael saw it in his eyes. This was a good thing, it was a very good thing, and it was just the beginning.

  THE END

  APPENDIX: Break In Your Glove or Mitt Correctly