by Derek Jeter
Real friends with sore arms. At least Derek’s were.
• • •
On the way home Chase asked Derek lots of questions about his family, his grades, and his friends. They were exactly the same questions Derek’s own parents would have asked Dave’s mom and dad—if Derek had gone about setting this visit up the right way in the first place.
Then again, he hadn’t known he was going to be ambushed and taken to Dave’s house as a surprise. And he hadn’t known Dave’s parents wouldn’t be home either—or even in the country! So Derek figured his mom and dad could scarcely blame him for anything, right?
Derek tried not to think about it. He would just have to deal with the flak when he got home. Meanwhile, he couldn’t stop thinking how funny life was. Here he’d been thinking how different Dave was from everybody else he knew.
And what he’d come to find out instead was how much alike they both were—especially where it counted the most. They had shared their most cherished dreams with each other—and, before putting the golf clubs away, they’d sworn to support each other’s dreams.
Wasn’t that what good friends did?
Derek smiled, feeling glad he’d allowed Dave to “kidnap” him. He couldn’t wait to introduce his new good friend to the rest of the guys at the Hill.
As the car pulled up in front of the Jeter family’s townhouse, Derek saw Sharlee playing outside, bouncing a rubber ball off the stoop and catching it. When she saw Derek getting out of the Mercedes, her eyes widened in shock.
“Mom! Dad!” she screamed, so loud that his parents came to the window within seconds. “There’s a movie star’s car out here—and Derek was riding in it!”
Mr. and Mrs. Jeter were outside in seconds, but by the time they got there, the Mercedes was already disappearing down the street.
Derek could see the disappointment in their faces as soon as they turned to look at him, though Sharlee was still excited and happy. “Wow,” she said. “My big brother knows a movie star!”
“Inside,” said his dad, glaring at Derek.
“Now,” added his mom. “We need to have a discussion.”
They marched him inside and sat him down on the living room couch. “Sharlee, please go play outside for a little longer while we speak with Derek,” Mr. Jeter said.
Looking disappointed, she left the house.
“I can explain,” Derek said.
“Okay,” Mrs. Jeter said. “Let’s start at the beginning.”
They listened as Derek told them what had happened and pleaded for them to understand.
“Oh, we understand,” said his father. “We understand that you’ve broken your contract—big-time.”
“What?” He’d never stopped to think whether he’d been breaking a rule in the contract, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of which one he’d broken.
“Dot?”
“I’ll go get it, Jeter.” His mom went upstairs.
Derek and his dad sat there silently until Mrs. Jeter returned. “Okay,” she said. “I see here that it says ‘Respect Others.’ Do you think it was respectful to your family not to tell us you were going off someplace, goodness knows where, and we have no way of reaching you, or knowing where you are? No phone call even?”
“But—” Derek thought he’d already explained that one to them, but he guessed they weren’t buying his excuse. “Even though Dave’s parents weren’t there,” he said, “it wasn’t like I went somewhere without a responsible adult.”
“That doesn’t change anything,” said his mom. “You should know we need to speak with any parents before you’re able to go over to someone’s house.”
“Plus, you should never get into a car without us knowing the person driving,” his dad added. “And you need to always check with us before changing your plans.”
“What would have happened if we’d needed to reach you in an emergency? We would have had absolutely no idea how to find you.”
“We need to know where you are,” his dad chimed in, “and you need to be where you say you’re going to be. That was a rule long before you even had a contract.”
“Here’s another one you’ve broken, old man,” said Derek’s mom, looking over the contract. “ ‘Be a Role Model for Sharlee.’ ”
“That’s right,” Mr. Jeter said. “We don’t want her taking after you and running off without telling us where she’s going.”
Suddenly Derek could see just how wrong he’d been. He should have told Dave right away that his family rules didn’t permit surprise visits to new people’s houses—not without his parents scoping out the lay of the land first. He should have thought about his contract before he went and broke it.
“I guess I didn’t think about it that way,” he admitted. “I thought I was making a really good new friend. I guess I just didn’t see that I was also breaking my contract. I’m so sorry.”
“There you go,” his dad said, putting a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “That’s my boy.”
“And we’re glad you made a new friend,” said his mom, “just not happy with the way you did it.”
“So . . . what do I do now?” Derek asked them. “I know it was wrong, but I can’t exactly take it back.”
“Derek,” said his mom, “I know you’ve kept faithfully to your contract up to now, and it’s been almost a year—”
“More than a year,” Derek corrected her.
“But there are consequences for bad behavior,” his dad finished. “I know you were planning on spending the night at Vijay’s this weekend, but you’ve just lost that privilege.”
Derek looked down and nodded.
“And if you break your contract again,” his mom cautioned, “we’ll have to cancel those Yankees-Tigers tickets.”
“No! Not that!” Derek begged.
“Maybe you’d better study this some more,” his dad said, handing him the contract to look at. “You can give it back to me after you’ve memorized it.”
“And after you’ve finished your homework,” his mom said.
Derek nodded. He did have a lot of homework and studying to do. And he was going to go over his contract, too. No way he wanted to lose those Yankees-Tigers tickets!
Even more important, he never wanted to disappoint his mom and dad again.
Chapter Seven
PLAY BALL!
Derek had never felt this excited to start a new season. His Red Sox were on the field, tossing the ball around before their first game. Across the diamond Derek could see the Tigers, the team he’d been on last year—and also today’s opponent.
Derek had been waiting forever since last season had ended. Since then he’d had a total of two team practices, a couple of visits to the batting cages, and a few days of pickup games at the Hill.
Today was a perfect day to start the new season. The sun was shining, the weather was warm, and the field wasn’t too wet. Derek put his hands together with the rest of the Red Sox for a team cheer, then went to grab a bat. His team was up first, and he was batting third.
“Go, Derek!” he heard his mom shout, echoed a second later by Sharlee and his dad. He waved to them in the bleachers, and they waved back, clapping and whooping it up.
Cubby Katz came to the plate as all the Red Sox cheered. He stared calmly as the first pitch sailed high over his head. He stood there like a statue as the next pitch bounced at his feet. Then he stared at two more over his head.
“Take your base!” the umpire said.
Derek smiled and shook his head. Cubby was so short, it was hard to throw strikes to him. That was a huge advantage for the Sox—because Cubby was also fast.
On the next pitch Cubby stole second base. “Yeah!” Derek shouted from the on-deck circle.
Jason, batting second, hit a slow ground ball to the third baseman, who was playing off the bag. Jason was fast too, though not as speedy as Cubby. Jason beat the third baseman’s throw to first for an infield single, and Cubby wound up on third.
Derek
could barely contain his excitement. He’d been red-hot at the plate in practice. Now with two runners on, it was his big chance to start the season off right.
He took a mighty swing at the first pitch, but the ball was high, and Derek barely made contact. The result was a weak fly ball to shortstop, and the first out of the inning.
“Aaargh!” Derek groaned as he headed back to the bench. How had he missed that pitch? It had been right there in his eyes!
“That’s okay, man,” Dave told him as he sat back down. “You’ll get ’em next time for sure.”
“For sure!” Vijay agreed. “Don’t worry. We’re going to score now anyway. You’ll see.”
Derek sighed and nodded. Vijay was right. It was about what the team did, not about himself. He sat, watched, and cheered as Jeff, their cleanup hitter, flied to center field. Cubby tagged up and ran home after the catch, scoring the Red Sox’s first run.
Isaiah came to bat next. He hit a shot down the first-base line for a double, and Jason scored to make it 2–0!
Dave came to the plate next. “Go, Dave!” Derek yelled, standing up and clapping. “Hit it out of here!”
Dave was clearly trying to do exactly that. He swung his long, loopy golf swing one, two, three times—without making any contact at all.
“Strike three!” yelled the umpire, and that was the end of the top of the inning.
Derek grabbed his mitt and trotted out onto the field, followed by the rest of the Sox. Jeff took the mound and started his warm-up throws. Jeff was usually pretty accurate. Today, though, he was all over the place. Derek guessed he was nervous.
Well, they all were. It was the first game of the season!
But that meant the Tigers would be nervous too, Derek thought, especially now that they were down by two runs.
But after the first hitter made it all the way to third on a sizzling ground ball up the first-base line, and the second hitter reached on a dropped fly ball in left by Miles, the Tigers had a lot fewer reasons to be nervous.
The number three hitter dug into the batter’s box. Derek pounded his mitt twice with his fist. “Hit it here,” he muttered. “Come on, right here . . .”
Sure enough—as if the hitter had heard him—the line drive came screaming right at Derek’s head! He ducked and stuck his glove up, and the ball smacked right into the pocket!
It all happened in a moment. Derek saw the runner going from third base to home, thinking that the ball, hit so hard, would surely have gotten past the shortstop.
But it hadn’t. And Derek’s throw to third would have had him out easily—if Dave had been at third to catch it.
But, no. Dave (who had already admitted he didn’t know all the rules of baseball) had no idea where he was supposed to be. He was standing well away from the base, cheering Derek instead of covering!
Derek winced at the missed opportunity for a double play. He told himself he’d better give Dave a crash course in baseball rules if he wanted the Sox to be a winner this year.
“Come on!” Jason yelled from second base. “Cover that bag!”
“Wake up!” Buster called from first. “Gotta look alive!”
Dave looked bewildered. “Don’t worry about them,” Derek told him. “Let’s get these next two outs, huh?”
Dave nodded and got his head back into the game. Lucky thing too, because the next batter hit a sharp ground ball to him. Dave caught it cleanly and threw to second to get the runner for the second out.
Meanwhile, the man who’d been on third base scored the Tigers’ first run, to cut the Red Sox’s lead in half.
The next hitter watched three pitches go by for balls. Then, knowing the pitch would be right down the middle, he smacked it into the outfield, where it fell between Miles and Cubby for a double and the Tigers’ second run.
The Tigers weren’t through yet either. The next hitter managed a clean single, and the runner scored from second base to make it 3–2.
The batter after him grounded to second, ending the inning, finally, but the Red Sox had lost their lead, and Derek wasn’t feeling so confident anymore.
After a scoreless second, Derek led off the third inning. This time he promised himself he wouldn’t swing at the first pitch, no matter what. His first at bat had been over before it had even begun, and he wasn’t about to let that happen again.
Sure enough, he let the first pitch go by, and groaned when he saw how easy it would have been to hit! The next pitch wasn’t nearly as good, but Derek took a swing at it anyway—and missed.
Now the count was 0–2, and he had to swing at any pitch that was close to a strike, or risk being called out. The pitch came in outside, but close enough that Derek had to swing.
He made contact, but it wasn’t solid contact. His weak pop-up was caught by the first baseman for the out, and Derek shook his head in frustration as he headed back to the bench again.
On the way he glanced up into the bleachers and saw his family trying to cheer him up. Derek raised both arms toward his dad, as if to say, What am I doing wrong?
His dad made a motion with both his hands palm down, as if to say, Calm down.
Derek nodded. It was good advice. The game was far from over, and this was no time to get down on himself.
In the bottom of the fourth, with the score still 3–2, Jeff gave up a leadoff triple. He struck out the next two batters, keeping the runner at third. But the next batter singled the run in, to make it 4–2, Tigers.
Jeff struck out the next guy to end the inning, but now the Red Sox’s job was twice as hard. They had to come back from two runs down instead of one, with only two innings left to play.
Jason led off the top of the fifth. Derek and the rest of the team were all standing now, clapping and yelling encouragement—and Jason gave them something to cheer about with a line drive double to right field.
Derek came to the plate, trying to calm himself down. His heart was racing, and he could feel the cold sweat on his neck.
It was hard to be calm, because he knew he could drive in a run with a single. In fact, he couldn’t help thinking, a homer would tie the game.
He’d studied the Tigers’ pitcher his first two times at bat, and even though Derek had made outs, he felt like he could get to the pitcher this time.
But before the guy even threw a pitch to Derek, the Tigers coach came out and made a pitching change!
As the new pitcher warmed up, Derek studied him from the on-deck circle. The new guy didn’t throw too fast, at least.
Derek came to the plate ready to swing, but the first pitch was low. He tried to stop himself, but it was too late.
“Strike one!” the umpire called.
Next, Derek swung at a pitch over the plate, but the ball had a little break on it, and he fouled it off for strike two.
The third pitch was a changeup. It came in high and slow. Derek wound up, his eyes widening, and he swung so hard, he nearly came right out of his shoes!
“Strike three!” yelled the ump.
“Nooo!” Derek moaned. He’d seen the ball perfectly—it had been right down the middle! He just hadn’t been ready for a pitch that was so slow.
So far he’d gone 0 for 3 in this new season, and he hadn’t even come close to a hit. Worse, he’d let down his teammates and coach, and he knew they’d been counting on him to lead the team in hitting.
Jeff came up next, and drew a walk. Derek clapped and said, “Attaway, Jeff!” His mood began to lift, seeing that his Red Sox were trying to mount a rally even though he’d struck out.
Then Isaiah came to the plate. Obviously thinking home run, he swung too soon and too hard at a soft, slow pitch—and struck out just like Derek had.
Now it was all up to Dave, who had already struck out twice. He let the first two pitches go by for high strikes.
If he was waiting for a low pitch, he wasn’t going to get one. The Tigers’ coach had obviously noticed that Dave’s swing was long and looping, and the coach must have told his pitcher to
keep the ball high in the zone so Dave couldn’t hit it.
Dave swung at the third pitch, and actually made contact, but he just managed to foul it straight up. The catcher caught it easily for the third out, and the Red Sox failed to score in the fifth, even though they’d gotten two men on base.
As Derek was about to head out to short, Coach Kaufman came up to him and said, “You’re pitching.”
“Me?” Derek was surprised.
“You’re my number two pitcher, kid. Go get ’em.”
Derek remembered that in practice the other day, Coach had told him and Buster to be ready to pitch if necessary. Derek had just never thought it would actually happen. He’d taken so many swings in the cages yesterday that his arms were sore. If he’d thought he might be pitching, he probably would have quit sooner.
But it was too late to think about that now—he had to do his job, and do it the best he could.
He tried to concentrate on throwing the ball for strikes. He could hear the crowd cheering, his mom’s voice rising over some of the others, yelling, “Go, Derek!” He got the ball over for two quick strikes, then served up a pitch right down the middle that the hitter crushed for a long triple.
Derek hung his head in frustration.
“Hang in there, Derek!” Coach Kaufman urged, clapping.
Derek knew he couldn’t afford to mope about the triple he’d already given up. He stared in at Isaiah’s mitt and bore down, throwing his best fastball right past the next hitter, once, twice, and three times!
The third hitter couldn’t seem to catch up to Derek’s fastball either, fouling off two pitches before swinging through a third strike.
One more hitter, Derek told himself, and I’ll be out of this mess. His arm was really tired now, and he wondered if he had enough strength left to get one more hitter out. He didn’t think he could throw another fastball past anyone. But, of course, the hitter didn’t know that—and that was Derek’s best hope for success.
He was facing the Tigers’ cleanup man—their best power hitter—and Derek fooled him on the first pitch by throwing a slow one right over the middle. The hitter’s eyes got as big as saucers. He swung for all he was worth, and just barely made contact, popping it up to the infield.
