“Costas?” he said, looking around. I waved.
“Is Julio Costas your father?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m Dr. Williams. The EMT said your father was hit by a baseball, right?”
I nodded.
“He’s still unconscious, but his vital signs are good. We x-rayed his skull, and he doesn’t seem to have any fractures. So right now he’s up in radiology getting a CT scan, so we’ll know what’s happening with his brain. I’ll check back as soon as I have something more to tell you. Okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks. Is he going to live?”
“So far I don’t see why not. What we’d be worried about is any bleeding or swelling in his brain. The CT will give us a lot more information.”
After another hour I finally said, “Guys, Lisa, this could be a long time. You don’t have to. . .”
They just looked at me and shook their heads. “Forget it,” Lisa said.
. . .
Around hour four Dr. Williams reappeared. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “This place is crazy tonight. The CT scan on your father was negative. He probably has a concussion, but with rest he’ll be better in a while as long as he takes it easy.”
“So he’s conscious?”
“Getting there. He’s coming to very slowly.”
“Can I see him?”
The doctor looked at his watch. “Give him about two more hours. He’s in a private room and resting comfortably, but we want to keep an eye on him a little bit longer.”
Exactly two hours later I was at Dad’s bedside. He reached his arms up as far as he could without straining the IV tube, and we hugged. He had a bandage on his forehead where he’d been hit and the beginnings of a black eye. But he was smiling.
“How are you feeling, Dad?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” he said. “No one should know better than you what a hard head I have. You know, the last thing I remember was standing by the dugout talking to Wash. What really happened?”
I told him that someone at batting practice had pulled the ball and it had hit him.
“Do you know who hit it?” he asked.
“It was me, Dad.”
He looked at me for a moment, and then suddenly laughed so hard I was afraid he’d hurt himself.
“Isn’t that something?” he said. “After all we’ve been through lately?” Then he got serious. “Look, son, I need to tell you I’m sorry.”
“Why? I was the one who—”
He held up a hand. “When I started to get my senses back, I don’t know, instead of being in a fog it was like I was seeing more clearly than ever. And I saw an old man who was trying to turn his son into himself.”
“What do you mean, Dad?”
“Trip, you told me over and over that you were tired of baseball. And I just wouldn’t hear it. It was my way or the highway, right?”
“It’s okay, I . . .”
“I was not respecting you, Trip. You are old enough now to make some decisions about your life, your future. I’m proud of you, Trip, baseball or not.”
I didn’t know what to say. But he went on.
“So I’ll keep supporting the Runners. Coach Harris knows what he’s doing. Between the two of you, you can decide whether you play.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’m proud of you too, you know.” We hugged again.
“You know,” he said with a smile, “you’re a pretty good singer.”
CHAPTER 19
Dad wasn’t going to make the trip to San Diego. He would be two more days in the hospital and had strict orders to rest at home for at least a week after that. No shows. No strenuous exercise. I felt sort of guilty leaving Dad behind, but Lisa promised to keep an eye on him. Turns out the two of them got along pretty well.
On Wednesday the Runners got on a bus and headed to the coast for the Beach Blowout. We were about halfway there when Coach Harris came back to where I was sitting.
“What do you think, Trip? Do you want me to start Dave Teller at short?”
“I know you probably think I’m nuts, Coach,” I said. “But I want to play.” Lisa had been right. I didn’t hate baseball. I just hated the expectation that baseball was my one and only future. As long as I was playing for the fun of it, and for the team, it was great.
Coach raised his eyebrows a little. “You’re sure?”
I was.
As usual, the Runners had the classiest accommodations available. We were staying at a resort on the ocean in La Jolla, on San Diego’s north side. We opened Wednesday night against the Phoenix Desert Eagles, an old rival. We were the designated home team in that first game.
Standing at shortstop, with the weight of Dad’s dreams off my shoulders, I felt my focus return. My mind was sharp, my body felt fit, and I was excited to play.
. . .
We cleaned out the Eagles. There are times, for all teams, when everything seems to be working. You hope those times will happen when they matter most. This was the biggest tournament we’d played all year. There would be only one bigger contest, the Elite Series at the end of August, and a good showing at the Blowout would probably get us invited to that one. And that first night, we were stellar. Every one of us. Nellie homered twice; Nick threw out three runners at second; Danny was so spectacular in center that he didn’t look like a show-off; Sammy doubled twice and stole a base; Carson struck out ten; and I was three for four and made one stab that had people standing up to cheer.
The Force was with us as the week went on. By Saturday we had only one game to win in order to reach the championship on Sunday. We played Los Lobos de Guadalajara, a Mexican team that boasted four alumni of a Little League World Series Champion team.
A big variable at our level, where guys are still teenagers, is physical development. We’ve all got skills, but we’re still growing, so the guys who’ve developed more have an advantage. Los Lobos—that’s The Wolves—looked, most of them, like adults. Not tall, necessarily, but bearded and muscular. Nick joked that half of them were probably married with children. And they played like they were earning their living at baseball.
Coach was resting Carson for the finals, if we made them, so he started Travis Melko. Travis pitched relief sometimes and started sometimes. He had three good pitches, none of them overpowering, but he had mad control and was a smart pitcher.
Travis’s strength was also his weakness, though. The control that made him so effective sometimes deserted him. But I shouldn’t have worried. That semifinal night, Travis pitched like a champ. The Runners homered three times—one was mine—and Travis shut out the Wolves on five hits.
CHAPTER 20
The final on Sunday night was carried by local TV stations on the West Coast, including Vegas. Great! I thought, because I hoped Dad would be able to watch. But Sunday morning he called me to say he was on his way to San Diego.
“Dad, you’re supposed to rest!”
“I am resting, Trip. I’m using the chauffeur, and Pop Mancini’s granddaughter is riding down with me. We’re on the road right now.”
“Lisa? Can she talk?”
“Yo, Trip! Can’t wait to see you!”
“You amaze me, Lisa. Is Dad okay?”
“Now there’s a question with a complicated answer,” she laughed. “But healthwise, he’s doing great.”
“All right. See you tonight. Thanks!”
The final pitted the Roadrunners of Las Vegas against the Seattle Tide. Not a team we knew, and they didn’t know us.
In the bus on the way to the ballpark, Coach gave us his usual scouting report: “These guys have power, and they have speed. It doesn’t always show up. But when it does, look out. We have the same stuff, but you know I talk all the time about consistency. I’m almost a little worried about how easy we’ve had it this week.
“If it’s tough tonight, don’t be surprised. Don’t panic. Dig deeper. Their pitcher has probably the best—no, not the best, but the fastest—fastball round. I’m talking ninety
-five on a good day. His change is almost impossible to identify. But he has a tendency to lean on that pitch when he’s behind in the count. So on the first pitch think fastball, then watch the count. Once in a while he’ll try a curve. He shouldn’t, though. If you are fortunate enough to see that pitch, chances are it’s a hanger and killable.”
There was a capacity crowd for the final. I looked around for Dad and Lisa and finally spotted them a few rows back behind the Runners’ dugout. I waved, and they waved back. For just a few seconds I thought about how lucky I was to have a friend like Lisa.
We were the visiting team tonight, decided by a flip of the coin. So we batted first. The six-foot-six Tide pitcher, Brandon Becker, was as fast as advertised. Tonight was going to be a guessing game. With two out, Nellie guessed right and sent a change over the fence in left. So we were up 1–0.
Carson was the star he always thought he was. All of us on the team joked about Carson’s ego. He was confident, which was good. You just didn’t want to be the captive audience when he started talking about himself. But that night would fuel Carson’s self-love for a long time. He was, for five innings, unhittable.
Scouting reports are helpful, but not so much for single, important games. The Tide were used to rolling behind Becker, and when Carson frustrated them they started to get nervous.
In the sixth we brought in our second run on a fielding error and led 2–0. With two outs in the eighth, Carson struck out the batter. At least we thought so, but the ump called a ball and kept him alive. Coach almost got thrown out for arguing. Umps get really defensive when they know they’ve blown a call.
On the next pitch the Tide batter homered. It was 2–1.
In the top of the eighth Becker was still burning them in. It would have been a fun batting exercise, trying to hit ninety-five, if we knew ninety-five was coming. But Becker’s well-disguised change was around eighty. He struck out all three of our batters.
In the bottom of the eighth Carson walked the leadoff guy, who then stole second. He got the next batter on a grounder and the guy after that on an infield fly. But the next Tide batter wouldn’t go gently. He took Carson to 3–2.
Carson has a good fastball—around eighty-five, with a sink on it. But the problem is that Carson thinks it’s even better than it is. If you guess it’s coming, you’ve got a good shot at golfing the ball into the wild blue yonder. When Carson started shaking off Nick’s signals, we all knew what was coming, and so, apparently, did the Tide batter. One swing later, it was the Tide leading 3–2.
I was coming up fourth in the ninth, if it got to me. But then Nellie and Sammy went out and it was down to one—Gus. I think he was at the plate for five minutes, fouling off pitches, taking random time-outs, and doing everything he could to rattle the pitcher. Finally he walked. It was up to me to keep us alive.
I caught some motion among the spectators and looked up. It was Dad, next to Lisa, and he was sending signals. I hadn’t seen Dad do this since I was maybe nine, but I remembered all of them. The signal he was giving me from the seats was “Take!”
I don’t know why, but I did. And the first pitch was a ball. The next pitch was obviously inside for ball two. I looked back at the stands to see Dad signaling “fastball.” What the heck. I dug in and prepared for the heater.
I connected, and from the way it felt off the bat I wasn’t surprised to see the ball clear the fence. The cheering was making me deaf as I crossed the plate. I pointed to where Dad was sitting and took in his grin. I’m not sure I’d ever felt so good about anything before.
The Tide led off the bottom of the ninth with a double. Carson struck out the next guy, but he walked the batter after him. We really needed a double play. But Carson was again shaking off Nick’s signals. Finally Nick called a conference on the mound. Coach came out and all the infielders gathered around.
“What’s going on?” Coach said.
I spoke up. “Carson, everyone knows you lean on your fastball. Shaking off Nick is a tell.”
“Okay,” Carson said to Coach. “What do you want?”
“Do what Nick asks you to do,” Coach said.
The next batter was way ahead of Carson’s curve and wound up striking out. The third guy, a pinch hitter, nailed it, but it went right to Darius in left. We were the champions.
When you win something big, you know there’s a party in your future. And the Runners knew how to party. But instead of celebrating with the team, I ran up into the seats to Dad and Lisa.
Lisa just held me very tight for a minute. Dad had a comical shiner, but otherwise he was a happy man and, he told me, a proud father. I felt years older, and so much happier, than I had just a few weeks before.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rick Jasper is a former middle school teacher and a long-time magazine editor and writer. A native of Kansas City, Missouri, he currently lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, with his daughter.
THE CATCH
When Danny makes “the catch,” everyone seems interested in him. Girls text him, kids ask for autographs, and his highlight play even makes it on SportsCenter’s Top Plays. A sportsgear executive tempts Danny with a big-money offer, and he decides to take advantage of his newfound fame. Danny agrees to wear the company’s gear when he plays. But as his bank account gets bigger, so does his ego. Will Danny be able to keep his head in the game?
POWER HITTER
Sammy Perez has to make it to the big leagues. After his teammate’s career-ending injury, the Roadrunners decided to play in a wood bat tournament to protect their pitchers. And while Sammy used to be a hotheaded, hard-hitting, home-run machine, he’s now stuck in the slump of his life. Sammy thinks the wood bats are causing the problem, but his dad suggests that maybe he’s not strong enough. Is Sammy willing to break the law and sacrifice his health to get an edge by taking performance-enhancing drugs? Can Sammy break out of his slump in time to get noticed by major-league scouts?
FORCED OUT
Zack Waddell’s baseball IQ makes him one of the Roadrunners’ most important players. When a new kid, Dustin, immediately takes their starting catcher’s spot, Zack is puzzled. Dustin doesn’t have the skills to be a starter. So Zack offers to help him with his swing in Dustin’s swanky personal batting cages.
Zack accidentally overhears a conversation and figures out why Dustin is starting—and why the team is suddenly able to afford an expensive trip to a New York tournament. Will Zack’s baseball instincts transfer off the field? Will the Roadrunners be able to stay focused when their team chemistry faces its greatest challenge yet?
THE PROSPECT
Nick Cosimo eats, breathes, and lives baseball. He’s a placehitting catcher, with a cannon for an arm and a calculator for a brain. Thanks to his keen eye, Nick is able to pick apart his opponents, taking advantage of their weaknesses. His teammates and coaches rely on his good instincts between the white lines. But when Nick spots a scout in the stands, everything changes. Will Nick alter his game plan to impress the scout enough to get drafted? Or will Nick put the team before himself?
OUT OF CONTROL
Carlos “Trip” Costas is a fiery shortstop with many talents and passions. His father is Julio Costas—yes, the Julio Costas, the famous singer. Unfortunately, Julio is also famous for being loud, controlling, and sometimes violent with Trip. Julio dreams of seeing his son play in the majors, but that’s not what Trip wants.
When Trip decides to take a break from baseball to focus on his own music, his father loses his temper. He threatens to stop donating money to the team. Will the Roadrunners survive losing their biggest financial backer and their star shortstop? Will Trip have the courage to follow his dreams and not his father’s?
HIGH HEAT
Pitcher Seth Carter had Tommy John surgery on his elbow in hopes of being able to throw harder. Now his fastball cuts through batters like a 90 mph knife through butter. But one day, Seth’s pitch gets away from him. The clunk of the ball on the batter’s skull still haunts Seth in
his sleep and on the field. His arm doesn’t feel like part of his body anymore, and he goes from being the ace everybody wanted to the pitcher nobody trusts. With the biggest game of the year on the line, can Seth come through for the team?
BAD DEAL
Fish hates having to take ADHD meds. They help him concentrate but also make him feel weird. So when a cute girl needs a boost to study for tests, Fish offers her one of his pills. Soon more kids want pills, and Fish likes the profits. To keep from running out, Fish finds a doctor who sells phony prescriptions. But suddenly the doctor is arrested. Fish realizes he needs to tell the truth. But will that cost him his friends?
RECRUITED
Kadeem is a star quarterback for Southside High. He is thrilled when college scouts seek him out. One recruiter even introduces him to a college cheerleader and gives him money to have a good time. But then officials start to investigate illegal recruiting. Will Kadeem decide to help their investigation, even though it means the end of the good times? What will it do to his chances of playing in college?
BENITO RUNS
Benito’s father had been in Iraq for over a year. When he returns, Benito’s family life is not the same. Dad suffers from PTSD—post-traumatic stress disorder—and yells constantly. Benito can’t handle seeing his dad so crazy, so he decides to run away. Will Benny find a new life? Or will he learn how to deal with his dad—through good times and bad?
PLAN B
Lucy has her life planned: She’ll graduate and join her boyfriend at college in Austin. She’ll become a Spanish teacher, and of course they’ll get married. So there’s no reason to wait, right? They try to be careful, but Lucy gets pregnant. Lucy’s plan is gone. How will she make the most difficult decision of her life?
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