“But, honestly, you’ll be so busy with your other family,” Phillip said, indicating the West and Northwest players, “you might not have much time to see them!”
The informal Q-and-A session ended soon after that. Many of the boys dozed off. Liam, however, thought about the parade.
Wonder if my family will be with Carter’s this year, or if they’ll hang out with other West parents.
He didn’t know the answer, and after a while, he slept, too. He woke up when Kate shook him lightly.
“We’ll be landing soon,” she said.
Liam rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Almost six o’clock, East Coast time,” she answered.
Liam sat up, instantly wide-awake. “Carter’s game is about to begin!”
CHAPTER
FOUR
And starting on the mound for Pennsylvania in this year’s Mid-Atlantic Regional final,” the voice over the stadium loudspeaker boomed, “Ca-a-ar-ter Jones!”
Carter bounded out of the shade of the first-base dugout and onto the green grass of the baseball diamond. Whoops and cheers rose from the fans packed into the bleachers of Leon J. Breen Memorial Field. Carter slapped palms with the five boys already standing in line along the base path: second baseman Freddie Detweiler, first baseman Keith O’Donnell, right fielder Craig Ruckel, left fielder Charlie Murray, and catcher Ash LaBrie. Beneath their green-and-white caps, their faces shone with equal parts excitement, apprehension, and determination. Carter knew how they were feeling because he was feeling exactly the same way.
Carter took his place next to Ash. Ash nudged him and grinned.
“You ready?” the blond-haired, brown-eyed catcher asked, raising his voice so Carter could hear him over the crowd.
Carter returned his grin and nodded.
If people had told Carter eight months ago that he’d be playing in the Mid-Atlantic final, he would have said they were crazy. Get that far in the postseason without Liam behind the plate? No way!
Liam had been Carter’s catcher from the time Carter began pitching in the Little League Major Division. But then Liam moved across the country.
Carter knew being uprooted was difficult for Liam. But it wasn’t easy for him, either. Liam left a big hole in Carter’s life, not to mention behind home plate. Carter hadn’t expected anyone to fill either anytime soon.
Then Ash and his mother moved into the McGraths’ house in January. Within a week, Ash was standing in Carter’s living room, telling him he wanted to be his catcher that season. He stated his belief that if they teamed up, they could play their way to the World Series that summer.
Out of loyalty to Liam, Carter kept his distance from Ash at first. Then he and Ash were drafted onto the same Little League team, the Hawks. To his surprise, Carter found he worked well with Ash. Thanks in large part to their efforts, the Hawks took first place in their league. On June 15, both Carter and Ash were on the Forest Park All-Star roster.
Carter, Ash, and their new teammates meshed right from the start. They swept past the competition in the District tournament in June. Victory at Sectionals in mid-July advanced them to the State tournament, where they faced the best teams in Pennsylvania. They lost their first game at States, yet in the end they earned the right to represent Pennsylvania in the ten-day Mid-Atlantic Regional Tournament in Bristol, Connecticut.
Forest Park’s winning ways continued in Bristol. On the first Saturday in August, they beat the team from the District of Columbia. The next day they defeated New York. Forest Park edged out Maryland on Tuesday and Delaware on Wednesday.
Going into the semifinal round on Friday, Pennsylvania was in first place with a record of four wins and no losses. There the team faced fourth-place Delaware for the second time. Six innings later, Pennsylvania had another check mark in the win column—and Delaware was out of the tournament. Earlier that day, third-place DC had surprised everyone by defeating second-place New Jersey. While Carter sympathized with the disappointed Jersey players, he was psyched to be facing DC, a team they had already beaten, in the championship.
He knew better than to get overconfident, however. Overconfidence could lead to laziness. Laziness could lead to errors. Errors could mean defeat—and defeat meant watching from the sidelines while the DC players packed their bags for South Williamsport, Pennsylvania, and the World Series tournament.
Am I ready? Carter thought as he slapped hands with shortstop Raj Turner, third baseman Allen Avery, center fielder Ron Davis, and substitutes Stephen Kline, Luke Armstrong, Peter Molina, and Charlie Santiago. Am I ever!
Last to jog through the introduction line were the coaches, Mr. Harrison, Mr. Filbert, and Mr. Walker. All three were beaming and looking every bit as excited as the players themselves.
The loudspeaker crackled. “We will now have a representative from each team come forward to recite the Little League pledge.”
Charlie M., Forest Park’s rep, joined a DC player at the microphone. “I trust in God. I love my country and will respect its laws,” they said in unison. “I will play fair and strive to win, but win or lose, I will always do my best.”
They stepped back into their lines. Coach Filbert and one of the DC coaches took their places to recite the Little League Parent and Volunteer pledge.
“I will teach all children to play fair and do their best. I will positively support all managers, coaches, and players. I will respect the decisions of the umpires. I will praise a good effort despite the outcome of the game.”
Back in the dugout, the teammates listened intently as Coach Harrison delivered one final pep talk.
“What can I say that I haven’t said already?” he asked. “You boys have impressed us with your talent, your drive, your team spirit, and your sportsmanship. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing, and you’ll walk off that field as winners—whether you win the game or not. Now let’s hear it!”
Carter and the others put their hands together and chanted, “Forest Park, one-two-three! Forest Park, one-two-three!” The chant ended when the boys flung their arms skyward with a triumphant yell.
Carter grabbed his glove and hustled out to the mound. He and his teammates took their last warm-ups, and then it was time to face the first DC batter.
Carter received the game ball from the home-plate umpire. The leadoff hitter approached the box. The fans stilled, their voices lowered to a respectful hush.
But they could have been screaming and stomping their feet for all Carter would have noticed. He leaned forward, the ball held loosely in his left hand behind his back, and waited for Ash to flash him the signal for the game’s first pitch.
Yeah. He was ready.
CHAPTER
FIVE
The doors of the bus closed with a wheeze and a thud, signaling the start of the last leg of the daylong journey.
“Just a few more hours,” a boy from Northwest said excitedly as the motor roared to life, “and we’ll be in Williamsport!”
“I wish we could transport there like they do in sci-fi movies,” someone else commented. “I feel like I’ve been traveling forever.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the weary players. They’d been on the road, in airports, or above the clouds since breakfast. They’d crossed two time zones and lost three hours, for while it was four o’clock Sunday afternoon in California, in Pennsylvania it was already seven Sunday evening.
Liam silently agreed that the trip had seemed endless. But unlike some, he was looking forward to the bus ride. He settled back into the thick padding of his seat and gazed out the tinted window as signs bearing the names of familiar Pennsylvania towns passed by.
“Man, I miss this place.”
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud until Rodney, sitting next to him, said, “Would you move back if you could?”
Liam shrugged. “I don’t know. Southern California is better than I thought it would be—”
“We Southern California natives thank you,” Rodn
ey deadpanned.
“—but I think Pennsylvania will always feel like home. No offense.”
“None taken,” Rodney replied. “Now, speaking of Pennsylvania…”
He stood up, pulled a slim, flat bag from the overhead compartment, and sat back down. “Ta-da!” With a dramatic flourish, he withdrew a computer tablet from the bag and switched it on.
“It’s Dad’s,” he explained. “He said we could watch the rest of the Mid-Atlantic championship.”
Two minutes later, the live-streaming game appeared on the screen.
“Wonders of modern technology,” Rodney said with satisfaction.
Liam waited impatiently for the score to be shown. When it finally appeared, he gave a whoop. “Pennsylvania is up, 2–0!”
Phillip popped up from the seat behind them. “What inning is it?”
“Top of the fourth,” Liam replied.
“Who’s pitching?”
Liam hesitated before answering that question.
Phillip and Carter had a long-standing rivalry that stretched back to their first meeting at Little League Baseball Camp two summers before. That week, Phillip had played a prank on Carter that Carter hadn’t found amusing at all. All might have been forgotten, however, if they hadn’t met up again at last year’s World Series tournament, where the rivalry had flared again.
Surprisingly, Phillip hadn’t realized that Liam and Carter were cousins until this summer. When he did find out, he let Liam know—in no uncertain terms—that he didn’t want Liam talking to Carter about him. Liam had agreed but let Phillip know—in no uncertain terms—that he would continue to talk to Carter about everything else. Phillip seemed to accept that, yet Liam still wasn’t 100 percent sure Phillip wanted to hear the name “Carter Jones.”
But if Mid-Atlantic wins the Regional Championship, Liam thought, he’s gonna hear me say that name a lot—and see me with him, too, because I’m going to spend as much time with Carter as I can!
“Carter’s on the mound,” he said at last.
Phillip grunted and sat back down. A moment later, however, he asked Matt, who was sitting across the aisle from Rodney, to change places with him so he could watch the game, too. “If that’s okay with you guys,” he added with a glance at Rodney and Liam.
“I’ve got a better idea.” Rodney called to three boys in the back of the bus, the only row that had five seats across, “Yo, Cole, Mason, Dom! Switch spots with us, okay?”
In the end, only Cole Dudley moved because Mason Sykes and Dominic Blackburn wanted to watch the game, too. They crowded on one side of Rodney, who held the tablet, and Phillip and Liam sat on the other.
“Everyone comfy?” Rodney asked.
“Shhh!” Phillip, Dom, and Mason hissed.
Liam didn’t say anything. His focus was on the game—or, more specifically, on the pitcher’s mound, where Carter now stood, waiting for the next DC batter to step into position.
The television camera slowly zoomed in on Carter’s face.
“Southpaw Carter Jones has thrown a terrific game so far,” the announcer informed viewers. “In four innings, he’s given up just two hits.”
“His fastball and changeup have proved challenging,” a commentator added, “but it’s that knuckleball of his that has really been confounding DC batters.”
“It’d confound me, that’s for sure,” the announcer joked.
While the announcers were talking, the batter entered the box. Now the camera pulled back to show Carter going through his windup. With one fluid motion, he reared back, lunged forward, and threw. The ball sizzled right toward the catcher’s mitt. The batter swung but missed by a mile.
Liam felt Phillip tense beside him.
“Dang,” Mason said.
“You can say that again.” Dom’s voice was awed.
The boys watched in silence as Carter hurled two more strikes—and then, exhibiting the same precision and power, he threw another six, in ten pitches, to retire the side in order.
Mason looked at Liam. “Don’t take this the wrong way, man, but I hope DC beats Pennsylvania because I’m not sure I want to face your cousin!”
Liam didn’t comment because he wasn’t sure what to say.
He’d seen Carter pitch a few games in the postseason. He knew his cousin was formidable on the mound. But what he’d just witnessed was better than anything he’d ever seen him do.
And yet, unlike Mason, he wasn’t dreading facing Carter. Just the opposite, in fact. His heart thumped with excitement, his hands itched to hold a bat, and his mind burned with a competitive thirst only one thing could quench.
“Pennsylvania better beat DC,” he said, “because I want a crack at him!”
CHAPTER
SIX
Somebody throw water on Carter,” Charlie M. yelled as the Pennsylvania players entered the dugout, “because he’s on fire!”
Carter grinned broadly.
“Well done, all of you,” Coach Harrison said, beaming. “Carter, that brings you to fifty-five pitches. That’s getting up there in the count, but if you’re good for one more inning, I’d like to keep you in because DC’s heavy hitters will bat in the top of the fifth.”
“Absolutely!” Carter replied without hesitation.
The coach nodded and turned to talk to Peter, Pennsylvania’s leadoff batter in the bottom of the fourth. Peter had come in for Ron at center field last inning, so this would be his first at bat. He looked nervous, but Carter knew that Coach Harrison could calm him down. Sure enough, by the time the umpire called for the first batter, Peter looked ready.
DC’s pitcher was just as ready. He’d subbed in during the bottom of the third, after the starter had given up two hits and a walk to load the bases with no outs. Raj, the first batter the reliever had faced, had popped a high fly ball to right field. The ball was caught for out number one, but Charlie M. had tagged up and raced home, scoring Pennsylvania’s second run. Both boys were all smiles when they returned to the dugout. Unfortunately, Allen, up after Raj, had grounded into a double play, ending Pennsylvania’s chances of adding more to its side of the scoreboard that inning.
“Here you go, Peter, here you go!” Carter cried as the bottom of the fourth began. The other players were just as encouraging.
Peter looked the first pitch into the catcher’s mitt, swung and missed the second, and ticked three foul balls before dribbling a grounder back to the mound. The pitcher fielded it cleanly and threw to first. Peter was out.
“Nice effort, good try,” his teammates said when he returned, head down, to the dugout.
Stephen Kline, in for Freddie at second base, was up next. Before he stepped into the box, he tapped the fat end of the bat on the ground three times.
“Never seen him do that before,” Charlie S. commented.
Stephen took a huge cut at the first pitch and—pow!—blasted it to deep left field!
“Never seen him do that before, either!” Charlie S. bellowed. “But I hope I see it again soon!”
The hit, good for a double, seemed to derail DC’s defense. Luke Armstrong, in for Keith, reached first on an error. Craig was struck in the arm by an inside pitch that drew gasps from the fans, who applauded when he trotted, unfazed and unhurt, to first.
Bases loaded, one out, and now Charlie M. was at bat. The fastest boy on the team, he could usually be depended upon to reach base if he made contact. Unfortunately, he didn’t get a chance to run because he went down swinging.
“Well, that smelled,” he muttered, clearly disgusted with himself.
“Coulda been worse,” said Allen.
“How?” Charlie demanded to know.
“Coulda hit into a double play like I did last inning.”
Charlie stared at Allen’s slumped shoulders and sat down next to him. “Hey, we’ve all been there,” he said, patting him awkwardly on the back. Allen looked up, gave a half smile, and knocked Charlie in the ribs with his elbow.
At the plate, Ash held the bat high o
ver his right shoulder, twirling it in tight circles as he waited for the pitch. Carter leaned forward and started a slow clap.
“Ash. Ash. Ash. Ash,” he murmured each time his palms met. His teammates joined the chant, pulsing out a steady beat with hands and voices. Then a new sound cut through their cries like a rifle shot.
Pow!
The boys leaped to their feet. “Go-go-go-go-go!” they screamed.
Jumping up and down and grabbing his nearest teammate for support, Carter willed the runners to fly over the base paths. They had nothing to lose after all. If the outfielder caught the ball, the inning was over. But if he missed it, Pennsylvania could score one, maybe even two runs!
The DC center fielder raced back, waving his teammates away. He stopped near the fence and raised his glove.
Carter held his breath. He tracked the ball as it hurtled toward earth. The outfielder took a little side step, adjusted his glove, and waited.
It’s going to land right in the pocket, Carter thought, his spirits sinking.
Instead, the ball struck the glove’s edge and fell to the ground!
Stephen, already partway home, covered the rest of the distance in a flash to cross the plate standing up. While the outfielder scrambled to pick up the ball, Luke charged toward third.
“Keep going!” the third-base coach cried, windmilling his arm.
Luke touched the bag and motored for home. Behind him, Craig churned up the dirt between first and second and headed for third. And Ash hadn’t slowed after tagging first.
The DC center fielder hurled the ball to his cutoff man. The throw was just short, and the ball landed in the grass. The cutoff man recovered it quickly, but by then Luke had thundered across the plate. Craig hit the dirt at the same time, riding the final few feet to third on his buttocks.
So the cutoff man threw to second. The second baseman caught the ball and whipped his glove around and down to tag Ash out.
Baseball World Series Page 2
