by Joe Jackson
They drew the Asian Pacific regional winners from Beizhou, China called the Qiaohui (pronounced chow we) for the final game. The name Qiaohui, which means “skillful and wise,” was apparently the perfect name for this group of girls. The Beizhou Qiaohui team was red-hot, having beaten their opponents by an average score of 14 to 2 to reach the championship game. They were reputed to be the heaviest hitting girls’ team in the tournament, and after watching them take batting practice, Emilee was convinced that it was so. The balls seemed to jump off their bats, with every batter in their line-up able to hit the ball hard for distance. They were a confident team, knowing the Purple Panthers had been badly hurt with the injuries to two of their star players, Hannah Miller and Jasmine Brown.
Coach Wilson had to make hurried substitutions, putting Maria Rodriguez on first base and Samantha Smith in the outfield. Madelyn Taylor was the starting pitcher.
Jasmine Brown sat on the bench. She pleaded that she be able, at least, to put on her uniform and sit with the team during the game. Hannah Miller, also, sat on the bench, watching glumly, and when she got up, she gingerly limped around.
Coach Wilson had a conference with the players before they took the field. The Purple Panther coach said quietly,
“We have our work cut out for us this afternoon, no doubt about it. We have lost two of our best players and we are facing an outstanding team, one of the best Little League Softball teams in the world. Many people are counting us out already, but I know this team. You do not quit. That is why we are here. You have come a long way and you do not know how proud of you I am. Those girls put their pants on the same way you did this morning, one leg at a time. Now, go out there and play Purple Panther softball!”
Madelyn walked out to the pitchers circle, picked up the ball and looked at Isabella.
“Let’s go,” Isabella shouted.
The first Qiaohui batter lined a single to right field on the first pitch. The second batter doubled to left center, and the third bounced her hit off the center field fence, scoring both runners.
Coach Wilson waved her hands and came out to the circle, her face drawn. Madelyn seemed to be in a daze with the Qiaohui players hitting her as if they owned her. She stood there with the ball in her hands, the Qiaohui players whooping it up in the dugout.
“How is it, Madelyn?” Coach asked.
“I don’t know,” Madelyn muttered. “I just can’t seem to get anybody out.”
“It’s a bad start, that is all,” coach told her consolingly. “You’ll settle down now. Just take a couple of deep breaths and relax before every pitch.”
Madelyn looked at Emilee then at Madison Moore, who had trotted in from third base. Madison said tersely,
“Just keep firing that rock, Madelyn. We will get ‘em.”
Emilee looked at Madelyn, “We always have.”
“You’re arm alright?” Coach asked her.
“Feels good,” Madelyn nodded. She had no excuses. The Qiaohui players had just hit her best pitches. It was just one of those things about this game of softball.
“A team gets like that once in a while,” coach told her. “They’ll hit everything you throw up and then, without telling you a thing, they’ll stop hitting.”
“I sure hope so,” Madelyn murmured.
She was ready to pitch again and the next Qiaohui batter lifted a fly ball to right field. Samantha Smith, taking Hannah’s place, danced around underneath it, looking very nervous, and somehow lost the ball. Another run scored and the batter went to second.
Emilee walked the ball to Madelyn whose face was gray now. This was the biggest game of their lives, and they looked as if they were falling apart when they should be playing their best softball.
The Little League Softball World Series Championship jitters were taking possession of them. After all these long weeks of tournament play, each game harder than the previous one, they were beginning to feel them.
Sarah let a ground ball go through her legs for another error and the fourth Qiaohui runner crossed the plate, still no one out. Emilee saw Coach Wilson in the dugout, her gaunt face very serious.
“We’ll settle down, Madelyn. Do not let it get to you. This is just a bad start.”
She knew deep down in her heart, though, that in a six-inning ball game you could not let a team get a big lead if you wanted to be in it at the finish. Right now, the Beizhou Qiaohui had a good lead.
The Purple Panthers were not particularly looking for a bunt now and the next Qiaohui bunter laid a beauty down the third base line, catching Madison Moore dozing.
The redhead lunged in very late, kicking the ball away and both runners were safe on first and second with no one out. The disappointed Lake Forbing crowd stared in amazement. This was not the team, which had clawed its way through all opposition, through the district and sectional titles, on to the regional, and through the Little League Softball World Series tournament to get here.
Even Emilee started to feel it now. A kind of panic swept through her, something she had not ever felt before in a game. She had been nervous at times, butterflies some would call it, but this was different. This was fear. She found herself hoping that a Qiaohui batter would not hit the ball in her direction.
They were playing back for the double play with Madelyn trying to keep the ball low so that the next Qiaohui batter would hit it into the dirt. Then she did just that and straight at Emilee Davis.
Emilee watched the ball bouncing and spinning towards her, a sharply hit ground ball, ideal for the double play. No problem, it was just a routine play for her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sarah moving towards second to cover. The runner from first was streaking down towards second.
The ball bounced off the turf and onto the hard dirt of the infield. Emilee put her hands down the way she had done a thousand times before. She remembered to keep her glove relaxed on the ground, the way coach had taught her when handling ground balls, but something happened. Somehow, the ball went through her legs. She felt it brush her glove lightly and then horrified, she whirled to watch it roll rapidly out toward right center field with Sofia Hernandez sprinting in to recover it.
There was another big roar from the crowd as the fifth Qiaohui runner crossed the plate in this blowout. Coach Wilson called for time, her second of the inning.
She walked out onto the field, calling the whole infield to the circle. Emilee walked in, sick to her stomach, wishing she were back in Lake Forbing, wishing the Purple Panthers had not come this far in the tournament. It would have been better if eliminated in the first round of the district play off championship game than to come down here to Libby Dell, Oregon to play with such disgrace as they were doing here. This game, televised all over the world, was rapidly becoming a farce with no Qiaohui player out yet, five runs in, and two Qiaohui runners on base.
Coach Wilson looked at the infield when they came to her. Madison Moore, Sarah Anderson, Emilee Davis, and the first base substitute for Jasmine Brown, Maria Rodriguez.
“This is a bad one,” coach said slowly. “This is a bad start. Right now is when the losers quit. You girls want to quit and go home now or do you want to finish this ball game?”
No one said anything. Coach Wilson went on softly, “This team has never quit on me before, and I don’t expect it to quit now. I do not care if they score a thousand runs on you this inning. Stay in there. Give it everything you’ve got.” She looked at every player in the circle, her eyes to their eyes, with a light grin.
Madelyn blurted out, “You still want me to pitch, coach?”
“I am going all the way with you this game, girl,” coach told her. “Just keep throwing strikes and we will build some character.”
Coach’s eyes twinkled as she turned to go. Then she turned back around and said, “You girls remember the old story about the softball game with two teams playing and a girl asks them the score? Well, one kid says 24 to 0 and the girl says to the other team, ‘aren’t you girls worried?’ ‘No,’ another kid replied, �
�we haven’t come up to bat, yet.’”
Madison Moore grinned a little, a slight, feeble grin. She turned and she said to Sarah,
“You miss another one, Sarah, and I will rub your face in the dirt. You hear me?”
Sarah managed to smile. There was no malice in the redhead’s voice. These two girls had played side by side through many tough, grueling games. Moore had seen Sarah break up a ball game with a base hit to keep them in the tournament. Sarah had seen Moore’s long home run clear the fence and win another game a few days before.
They went back to their positions now and Madelyn prepared to pitch. She worked the next Qiaohui batter to a 3-2 count and then the batter lifted a fluke single behind third, the ball barely cleared Madison Moore’s outstretched glove.
Ashley Jones came in fast to field the ball, holding the runner at third, but the bases were loaded with no outs. Coach Wilson shook her head in exasperation. It seemed as if everything was working against the Purple Panthers this afternoon.
Madelyn took a deep breath, looked toward the bench, and prepared to pitch. The Qiaohui batter was rangy, long, and lithe, with a quick bat. She was one of their power hitters.
Madelyn quickly got two strikes on her. Emilee could see that she was beginning to settle down and she felt hopeful. Then the Qiaohui batter swung at the next pitch that was on the outside corner. A loud “tunk” sound told everyone in the park that her long bat had connected with it solidly. The ball flew out over Emilee’s head toward center field. It was hit very hard, a line drive.
Emilee whirled to watch Sofia play the ball. Sofia was coming in very fast, running like a gazelle, but the ball was carrying further than Sofia realized. Emilee stared at her, seeing Sofia’s mistake. That ball was still climbing yet Sofia thought it was falling!
Madison yelled from left field frantically at her friend Sofia, who pulled up sharply and began scrambling back. However, Sofia had already come in too far, too fast and the well-hit line drive sailed right over her head all the way to the fence. Sick at heart again, Emilee raced toward the outfield to take the cut-off throw. Madison ran over from her position like a deer to the ball as the Qiaohui players rounded the bases, the Qiaohui fans going crazy.
By the time Emilee caught the cut-off throw and whirled to fire to home plate, she saw the Qiaohui batter stepping on it, having made an inside the park home run with the bases loaded.
The score was now 9 to 0 for the Qiaohui and there were no outs. Emilee walked to the pitching circle with the ball. She handed it to the stricken Madelyn and she mumbled,
“All right, Madelyn, this is not your fault.”
Madelyn did not say anything. She took the ball from Emilee’s hand and Emilee walked back to her position. The excitement had died down and the crowd noise was mild. Breathless, laughing Qiaohui players sat in their dugout, confident the game was over.
Sofia Hernandez stood on the turf, deep in center field, looking very small, very still. Emilee did not know it, but Sofia was crying already, crying so badly that if another softball sailed in her direction she would not see it.
Isabella stood behind home plate, her mask under her arm. Isabella had done no wrong as of yet. Isabella was still the rock, her tanned face grim, unbeaten, talking it up.
“Let’s go,” Isabella roared. “Let’s go. Let’s go!”
Emilee considered there was no place to go. They were done, beaten by a better team, an infinitely better team. They had at last broken to pieces, this Purple Panther team of diverse backgrounds, this team that should not have even won the Lake Forbing league title with all of their troubles, jealousies, and anger, which had beset it. They should have cracked wide open a long time ago, but it had to happen now, before this huge crowd in the championship game and on live broadcast television for the world to see!
“Let’s go,” Isabella screamed, unfazed, this time from out in front of the plate. “Everybody, let’s go.”
Coach Wilson sat on the bench as stunned as any of the rest of them. She had not taken Madelyn from the game because she knew that if this team could hit Madelyn, they would destroy Maria Rodriguez or Samantha Smith. The bases were now empty and it was like the beginning of a new game. Emilee would have given her right arm if it could be that way again. That would be nice, to re-start the first inning and have the first Qiaohui batter come back up, with no outs, no hits, no errors, and no runs.
“Let’s go,” Isabella screeched. “Throw it to me, Madelyn. Throw it to me, you rich princess.”
Madelyn looked at Isabella, the girl from across the railroad tracks, her battery mate. Isabella Lopez was not ridiculing her now. Isabella did not care about Madelyn’s family money, her yacht, or summer home. Isabella only cared about one thing. She wanted Madelyn to pitch the ball, to bear down on these Qiaohui batters, because Isabella still had faith in her.
Madelyn got her first strikeout on three straight fastballs and her heater began to sing. Emilee watched her on the pitching rubber, the rich girl who had always had everything she wanted, but she could not buy this ball game, not with a billion dollars. She looked soundly whipped already, but Madelyn was not quitting because the poor girl from across the tracks, her battery mate, would not let her.
“Right here, moneybags,” Isabella screamed. “Right here in this mitt. Make it pop.”
Madelyn struck out the next batter with two beautifully breaking curve balls.
She got the third batter out on an easy roller back to her and then she walked slowly to the dugout, sat down on the bench, put her head down and the tears started flowing.
Emilee came in slowly. She saw Jasmine crying. Sarah sat down, looked at Madelyn and at Jasmine, and she started to shake a little. Sofia came in from center field, face tear-stained. She broke down completely when she came into the dugout and Coach Wilson had to grab her and hold her.
“My fault,” Sofia wailed. “It’s my entire fault. I lost the game. I cannot believe it. I lost the game.”
“Shut up,” Madison Moore quavered. “Shut up and take it like a champ.”
It was contagious and it was moving through the Purple Panther dugout. Emilee felt the tears coming to her own eyes and she fought them back. The Purple Panthers had been in an iron band of tension for weeks that finally drew too tight and crushed them. They were like bundles of nerves, unable to control themselves. They felt licked too. Emilee could see that. Even if there had only been one run scored by the Qiaohui, instead of nine, that would not have mattered. They were licked. The Purple Panther’s just did not have it anymore.
WHY WE PLAY THE GAME
