The Iceman’s Meltdown
Heads or Tails
Copyright © 2015
Published by Scobre Educational
Written by Josh Anderson
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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Cover and layout design by Jana Ramsay
Copyedited by Renae Reed
eISBN: 978-1-62920-246-4 (pdf)
eISBN: 978-1-62920-459-8 (ePub)
eISBN: 978-1-62920-467-3 (mobi)
HOW TO READ THIS BOOK
You should start a Heads or Tails book like any other, on page 1. At the bottom of each page, you’ll see a direction to move on to the next page, or you’ll be presented with a choice: Heads or Tails?
Flip a coin (or just pick randomly), and turn to either the “heads” page or the “tails” page to continue the story. Or, you can read more about each option, and choose the path that sounds the best to you.
You can read this book over and over and never take the same path twice. Enjoy your journey into the glory and agony of high school baseball!
West Burbank High School Bulls - Key Players
Bryce Bain, First Baseman, Senior
Bryce is the Bulls’ best player and team captain. After the state championship game, he’s headed to the minor leagues after being drafted by the Milwaukee Brewers.
Pierre Ferran, Outfielder, Sophomore
The weakest player on the Bulls. If not for his great attitude and hustle, he wouldn’t be on the team. Rarely gets off the bench.
Tommy Kennison, Catcher, Sophomore
Your best friend on the team, Tommy is a slick catcher and powerful bat in the middle of the lineup. He’s the best pitch-caller you’ve ever played with. You’ve never been so in-sync with one of your catchers.
Dane Leodore, Center Fielder, Freshman
The fastest guy on the team. If he could get on base a little more, he’d be the perfect leadoff guy. In center field, he tracks down everything.
Kev Santana, Shortstop, Freshman
Kev’s got every tool in the book at his disposal – except experience. Great glove, powerful bat, and a rocket arm.
Paco Schachter, Right Fielder, Senior
Paco’s bat is only average. But, baserunners throughout California fear getting caught by his amazing throws from the outfield.
Fred Welch, Third Baseman, Junior
Fred is responsible for plenty of the runs scored by the Bulls, thanks to his powerful bat and great batting eye. But, his terrible fielding is also responsible for plenty of runs scored by Bulls opponents.
Jim Willman, Utility Infielder, Junior
The best glove-man on the Bulls, but not a strong hitter. If he could hit half as well as he fielded, he’d be a regular in the starting lineup.
Kellen Moore, Pitcher, Sophomore
That’s YOU! You’ve been one of the best pitchers in the state of California this season, using a combination of smarts and finesse – and a deadly changeup – to keep hitters off-balance.
Ninety feet between bases. Ninety degrees of fair territory. Sixty feet, six inches from pitcher to batter. Twenty-seven outs in a professional game (twenty-one in high school). Nine players on the field. Three strikes to reach base safely. About one-half of one second for the batter to react to your 80-mile-per-hour fastball.
You are Kellen Moore. You aren’t the most athletic player on your team, or the hardest thrower. Not even close. But, you are your team’s best pitcher. And this season, you are one of the best pitchers in the entire state of California. But it isn’t your arm that makes you successful, it’s your head.
You’ve got a unique ability to break the game of baseball down to simple numbers. And using those numbers, you can make split-second decisions that almost always come out in your favor.
When you were twelve, and most kids were asking their parents for a new glove, or a new bat, you asked for a radar gun for measuring the speed of your pitches. When you realized that no matter how much you worked, you couldn’t improve on how fast you could throw the ball, you started working on how slowly you float the ball over the plate.
Over the years, you’ve fine-tuned your approach. Your average fastball looks like lightning to a hitter who also has to be ready for your changeup, which floats to the plate at the speed of a feather.
Your sophomore year has been like a big victory lap. Every few days, you get another chance to dazzle your baseball-crazed classmates with your performance on the mound. Even the girls at your school have noticed your big season, but you have a long-distance girlfriend across the country in Iowa. You met Ali at camp two summers ago, and even though you haven’t seen her in almost a year and a half, you Skype or chat almost every night.
Today is not an ideal day for baseball – rain is forecasted for the exact start time of the California state championship game. You’ve got a chance to put a topper on your almost flawless season. You’ve won 13 games for your team, the West Burbank Bulls, and lost only once – to the Crescent City Prep Jets. You play the Jets again today – this time for the title.
Coach Dawson calls you “Iceman” because he loves the way you keep a cool head. You’ve always had an uncanny ability to tune out the crowd, the other team, and the pressure. Almost always. . .
The loss earlier this season to Crescent City Prep was the worst game you’ve ever pitched, and a day you never want to think about again. It’s not the nine runs you gave up in less than two innings, or the eleven hits, that you feel ashamed about. The thing you did that still haunts you was your reaction to it all.
As the hits piled up and your control got worse and worse, you completely lost your composure. You complained to the umpire, saying that his strike zone was small. You chewed out a teammate for making an error on a very tough play. Errors are part of the game, and pitchers are supposed to encourage the fielders behind them.
Worst of all, after Coach Dawson pulled you for a reliever, you walked home, abandoning your teammates.
You sat in your room feeling bad for yourself the rest of that day. You’d won your first six games of the season, and in your mind, there was no reason you ever had to lose again.
The doorbell rang later that night. Coach Dawson wouldn’t even come inside when you opened the door. You assumed, at first, that he was there to say that you’d been kicked off the team. He sat on the front steps of your house and motioned for you to sit too.
“Unacceptable behavior,” he said.
“I know, Coach, but—” you started to answer.
“There’s no ‘but’. . . . Give up a hundred runs, I’ll live with that. But, you pull a stunt like leaving in the middle of a game again, you won’t play another game at West Burbank.”
You sat there silently, nodding your head.
“You want to talk about anything else?” Coach asked you.
You shook your head “no,” afraid that opening your mouth would release the tears welling up in your eyes.
“Okay then,” he said. “See you at practice tomorrow. Make darn sure you apologize to your teammates.”
As Coach walked away, you wanted to call him back, but something stopped you. You wanted to
tell him how hard it was for you to deal with failure. How every time you messed up, even in little ways, you wanted to crawl into a tiny hole and never come out.
Your mom does everything she can for you. She works two jobs, comes to every one of your games, and basically does whatever is within her power to make your life better. But, after that first game against Crescent City Prep, you really wished you had a dad who lived with you. Your parents got divorced when you were ten, and you don’t see your dad very often. He travels for work a ton, and even when he’s in town, you only see him about once a month for breakfast. You don’t remember when you stopped being close – it just kind of happened over time.
You warm up for the championship game, throwing the ball with your catcher, Tommy Kennison, along the side of the field. Bryce Bain, the Bulls’ first baseman and best hitter, walks up and stands next to you. Bryce is a senior, but he looks like he’s twenty-five: six-foot-two with a full beard. It’s no wonder he gets walked intentionally more than anyone else on the team.
“Wanna hear something crazy?” he asks.
You throw another warmup toss to Tommy before answering. It was rare for other players to bother the starting pitcher in the middle of his warmups. But Bryce was the team’s captain and pretty much did what he wanted to. “Sure.”
“Remember how these guys hammered you last time we played them?” Bryce asks.
“How could I forget?” you answer.
“Well, the Crescent City second baseman, Shawn, has a sister. And she’s good friends with my cousin, Zach. Shawn’s sister told Zach that last time we played, the Jets had someone in the stands with binoculars stealing your signals and giving them to their hitters,” Bryce said. “That’s why they roped you so badly!”
You think about it for a second. Your success depends on fooling the hitter by changing speeds. Of course you’d get throttled if the hitters knew what pitches were coming. This would also help explain why Crescent City had hit so well for the entire season – perhaps they were doing this to everyone. You nod to Bryce and keep warming up. You’re speechless, but you can’t let anything inside your head right now, except for trying to win the state championship.
A few minutes later, you’re on the mound, finishing your warmups and getting ready to start the game. Bryce walks up to you again. “What you ought to do to get back at them,” he says, “is to drill their leadoff hitter.”
Bryce is suggesting you intentionally hit the first batter with a pitch. It’s rare to get thrown out of a game for hitting one batter, since it’s usually assumed by the umpire to be an accident. “I don’t know, Bryce,” you say.
“They made you look like a fool last time,” he says. “Anyway, it’s up to you. But, I think you need to teach these guys a lesson. It’s breaking the unwritten rules of baseball to steal signs.”
You throw your final warmup pitch with Bryce standing right next to you . . .
GO TO PAGE 18. You take Bryce’s advice and try to hit the first batter with a pitch.
GO TO PAGE 51. You pitch normally to the first hitter, and try to get him out.
You tell the officers that you’ve never been offered steroids, or heard any of your teammates mention them.
“Alright, Kellen,” Martinez says. “I hope we didn’t scare you today. No one thinks you’ve done anything wrong. A couple of your teammates, though? We need to look into them a little more. That’s what we were hoping to clear up by talking to you.”
Borck puts his hand on your shoulder. “Can we ask you a couple of favors, Kellen?” he asks.
You nod your head, not feeling like you have much choice.
Borck hands you two business cards. “Please call if you ever hear anything,” he says. “These drugs are dangerous. You might think it’s ‘ratting someone out,’ but you could be saving a teammate’s life.”
You nod and slide them into your backpack.
“The second thing,” Martinez says, “is that this is an active investigation. You can’t mention this discussion to your coaches or teammates. It’s actually a crime to interfere with a federal investigation, so please be careful.”
“We wouldn’t want you getting into any trouble over this,” Borck says casually. But, you know he’s making a small threat to make sure you obey their request.
Again, you have no choice but to nod and say, “Okay.”
You watch the agents head back to their car and drive off. Your first instinct is to ride to the dirt mounds and tell your teammates about everything. But, Borck’s words stick with you . . .
GO TO PAGE 13. You ride straight home to tell your mom what happened instead.
GO TO PAGE 36. You head to the dirt mounds, where your teammates are riding their bikes, to tell them about your conversation with the federal agents.
Your arm has had it. “It’s hurting a bit,” you tell Coach. “I don’t know if I can get the outs you need.”
He signals over to Rip Grant, who’s warming up. As he gets ready, you nervously pace in the dugout. You can see small raindrops falling now, and it’s getting darker.
As much as you wanted to be the guy standing on the mound when the game was decided, Grant gives your team a better chance to win the championship right now. You take a seat on the bench next to Coach. All you can do now is watch . . .
Grant is solid and gets three quick outs in the top of the 8th, ending the Jets’ chance at scoring before it even begins.
If your Bulls can score just one run, you’ll be state champs, but the inning does not start off in a promising way. The first two Bulls strike out. You can see the Jets’ players getting excited as they look forward to another chance to hit in the 9th.
The rain starts to fall harder during Tommy Kennison’s at-bat with two outs. He manages to draw a walk, which isn’t a surprise. A ball that’s slick with rainwater can be hard for the pitcher to grip.
The next batter walks as well. And with runners on first and second and Fred Welch coming up, everyone in your dugout is on their feet. You grip the fence and feel the rain pelt your fingers.
The umpires discuss whether the game can go on, but they let play continue for the moment.
Welch belts the third pitch into right center field. The rain is coming down in sheets as you watch the runners hustle around the bases. The right fielder picks up the ball on a bounce as Tommy rounds third. Coach Dawson has waved him home.
Tommy stumbles on the wet dirt as he heads for the plate. He regains his footing but stumbles again.
The right fielder picks the ball up. As he brings his arm back to throw, the ball slips out and winds up behind him.
Tommy practically crawls home, and you and your teammates rush out of the dugout.
The rain only makes your celebration on the field more epic. Ten innings earlier, you wondered whether you could keep from having another meltdown. Now, you’re a state champion.
You find Tommy, after the team is finished mobbing him, and give him a huge hug.
Coach Dawson finds you in the crowd and looks into your eyes. “I’m proud of you,” he says. Hearing that from him means the world, because Dawson is a father figure to you.
In the middle of the rainy celebration, you look into the stands to try to find your mom. You can barely see through the downpour and the huge umbrellas everyone is hiding under.
You finally spot her and she’s sitting with a man. For a second, you’re not sure who it is. Then you realize. You move to the edge of the field and peek through the fence to make sure you’re right.
Your mom must’ve told him about the game. You can’t believe it. He travels so much that he hasn’t seen you pitch in a couple of years. Every game you pitch, you secretly hope he’ll somehow show up. Your dad being there makes it like you’ve won two championships.
They spot you looking at them and wave. You can’t wait to go see them. Just as soon as the Bulls are done celebrating being the best team in the entire state.
THE END
“Welch is killing
us, Coach,” you say. “I need guys behind me who are gonna make the plays.”
Dawson just looks at you. “These guys are really in your head, aren’t they?” he asks, motioning to the Jets. “Listen, you’ve had one of the best seasons I’ve ever seen. Win or lose, nothing will change that. Just don’t act like a knucklehead, okay?”
Coach just doesn’t get it. You lean in so Welch can’t hear you. “Willman is solid at third base. Shouldn’t he be out there?”
Coach’s face reddens. “You don’t sound much like the Iceman right now, and you don’t sound like a very good teammate either. Do I need to give the ball to someone else to pitch?”
Your heart sinks. “Of course I want to pitch,” you say.
“Then leave the managing to me,” he whispers. “You just be the Iceman. You’ll be happy Welch is in when it’s our turn to bat.”
You compose yourself and throw two good pitches to the next hitter, but he takes your third pitch and makes solid contact, hitting one into the gap between right and center field. Another run scores, and you’re down 2-0. The next hitter lashes a hard ground ball between first and second base, scoring a third run.
This is starting to feel like the last game against the Jets. Your Iceman demeanor is fading. If you want to turn things around, now’s the time.
The next hitter steps in – a senior named Jack Royster. You look out to the stands. Could the Jets be stealing signs again? You signal with your glove for Tommy to come out to the mound.
“Let’s switch up the signs,” you tell him. You decide to use body signals, but you tell Tommy to still put down fingers as well.
You get Royster to swing through two low fastballs. You’re expecting Tommy to call for a changeup now, but he calls for a third fastball. This time, though, he’s got his mitt high in the strike zone. You hit his target perfectly and blow the ball past Royster. You’re finally out of the inning. It’s 3-0, and even though your team has plenty of time to get the runs back, it feels like you’ve already lost.
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