Soar

by Joan Bauer

  I just stare at El Grande.

  What’s he talking about? I didn’t play!

  Walt slaps my shoulder.

  I’m not sure what to do.

  El Grande chuckles and points at me. “And I know that mind of yours is going full tilt, saying, ‘What are you doing, old man? I didn’t play!’ Isn’t that right, Jeremiah?”

  I nod and look down.

  “Well, I found this definition: a player is a person who takes part in a sport or a game. And, son, you took your part, and because you did, we’re all here. You coached everyone on this team, including me. So come on up and get this beast of a trophy.”

  Franny walks over in a pretty blue dress holding the trophy with the blue eagle.

  Honestly, I don’t know if I can go up there, because I don’t want to cry.

  But I can’t say I don’t want it.

  I absolutely do!

  So I walk up, tough, with eagle focus. No way do eagles cry.

  El Grande slaps me on the back. “We’ll have your name put on later.”

  Everybody stands up to clap for me, which has never happened, and when you’re trying not to cry, it’s best to look at the weirdest thing in the room. So I focus on the Oxen doing the wave, standing on their chairs, carrot curls sticking out of their nostrils.

  I look at Benny, who is sitting in his chair by the wall, hugging himself, but smiling big at me.

  Franny hands me the trophy. It’s heavy, but not so heavy that I can’t lift it high. She’s not mad at me anymore.

  “Congratulations. You totally deserve this.”

  “I’m not sure I do, but I’m not giving it back.”

  The people who work in the cafeteria are shouting, “Yeah, man! Yeah!” I wave.

  Doctors in white coats are clapping. I nod to them, because doctors kept me alive for this moment.

  I walk back to my table and sit down. Walt’s eyes are red—if he starts crying, I’m finished. Sarah is cheering. I will probably hug the trophy when I get home, but not now. People are still applauding even though it’s time to stop. El Grande says something else, but honestly I don’t hear it.

  I should be listening, but I feel something new and strong breaking through me. And I just know that in years to come, when they ask me, What was the thing that turned your heart around? What healed it? . . .

  I’ll say, It was baseball that did it.

  Every hit.

  Every miss.

  Every person.

  Isn’t that right, Alice?

  Epilogue

  ◆ Coach Perkins will stand trial for second-degree murder in Cincinnati.

  ◆ Hillcrest Middle School is now the “Home of the Eagles: Changing for the better, learning how to soar.”

  ◆ Sarah said I gave the Eagles wings!

  ◆ Walt dropped the ring at the wedding. It went rolling under a pew, but Franny, a great fielder, scooped it up and tossed it to me. I handed it to Walt. Double play.

  The End . . .

  Or maybe it’s The Beginning.

  Acknowledgments

  With thanks to the team of good people who generously shared their wisdom and experience:

  ◆ Dr. Jean Brown, Rhode Island College

  ◆ Dr. Sarita Dhuper, pediatric cardiologist

  ◆ Natima Harry, amazing heart transplant patient

  ◆ Dr. Laura Bruno, pediatrician

  ◆ Dr. Bruce Yaffe, internist

  ◆ Dr. Jeffrey Thompson, family medicine

  ◆ Phil Kluger

  ◆ Teresa LaMaster

  ◆ Mary Lester

  ◆ Twylah King, teacher of “special kids” at Nuttal Middle School

  ◆ Cindy Edwards

  ◆ Rabbi Toba Spitzer of Congregation Dorshei Tzedek, and author of the baseball prayer in Chapter 36

  ◆ Regina Hayes, my superb editor

  ◆ Janet Pascal and her copyediting team: Kate Hurley and Ryan Sullivan

  ◆ Gerard Mancini, associate publisher

  ◆ Nancy Brennan, designer

  ◆ Danielle Calotta, jacket designer

  ◆ Plus JoAnn, Laura, Rita, Karen, Tim, Mickey, Kally, Dorothea, and Chris

  And special thanks to Hope Taft, who years ago gave this story wings when she took me to the Crane Creek Wildlife Research Center in Oak Harbor, Ohio, to see the eagles nesting.

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