by Derek Jeter
Derek was just about to say “Yesss!” when he realized that the shortstop, the catcher, and the third baseman were all yelling, “I got it!”
They must have heard one another shouting too, because they all backed off, and the ball fell in between them for a single—scoring the Tigers’ fifth run of the game!
Derek sank to his knees and groaned in frustration. He knew these things happened sometimes, that it was just bad luck, really. But his team couldn’t afford bad luck, not when they were already down!
Derek struck out the next man on three straight changeups. But was it already too late?
The Red Sox were down to their last licks, with the bottom of the order coming up to bat. Buster, their number seven hitter, led off with a single, but could the Red Sox’s subs keep the rally going?
Rocco was next. He’d been put in for Vijay in the fifth. Rocco hadn’t shown much hitting ability in practice. But now, in the clutch, he managed to sock a double down the left field line, sending Buster to third base!
Suddenly the Sox had a rally going. Rocco was followed by Reggie, who’d come in for Miles at the same time that Rocco had come in for Vijay. Reggie seemed not to want to swing, but it turned out fine for the Sox, because the pitcher wound up walking him, loading the bases with nobody out!
Now Cubby came up to bat. Derek watched and cheered, knowing that a bases-clearing double here would tie the game.
Cubby hit a hard line drive, and Derek started to yell with triumph, but it was right at the third baseman, who caught it for the first out. The runner at third had to hurry back to the bag to avoid a double play!
Jason followed with a weak grounder to the pitcher, who made sure the runner at third wasn’t trying to come home, then threw to first base for out number two.
Incredibly, it all came down to Derek! He was the team’s last hope.
Everyone was screaming, whether for the Sox or the Tigers. Get a hit, Derek told himself. Stay calm and controlled. Just . . . get . . . a hit!
The first pitch came in, looking very fat, very slow, and very, very hittable. Derek forgot all about staying under control. He swung so hard that he threw himself off balance and fell to the ground!
The result of his mighty swing? A pathetic dribbler to second base. Derek was out by a mile, and so were the Red Sox, by a final score of 5–2.
Derek felt like sinking into the ground. His team had put all those men on base but had scored only two stupid runs!
And it had been mostly his own fault—or at least his as much as anyone else’s.
So much for a good start to the new season. Crushed, Derek lined up with his disappointed teammates to shake hands with the victorious Tigers.
Afterward the Red Sox clapped one another on the back and said “We’ll get ’em next time” and stuff like that. But none of it made Derek feel any better.
He looked into the stands for his folks, and was surprised to see his mom and dad talking to none other than Chase!
“Hey, look,” Dave said, noticing the same thing at the same time.
Derek hoped his parents weren’t giving Chase a lecture about driving their son anywhere without their permission. But as Derek and Dave got closer, he saw that the three of them were smiling and laughing like old friends. Derek’s dad was patting Chase on the back and nodding, like they were sharing some old memory or something!
“Derek!” His mom called him over. “C’mere!”
Derek gave Sharlee a hug first. He always did, before greeting anyone else. She was only five, but she knew well enough whether Derek’s team had won or lost, and even whether Derek had done well or not. Still, Sharlee adored him either way and always thought he was the hero of the game, no matter what had actually happened.
“Derek, we’ve just been talking with Mr. Bradway,” his dad said. “It seems we have a lot in common.”
“Did you know he was in the armed forces?” Derek’s mom asked, and then turned to Dave and introduced herself. “Hello, young man. I’m Derek’s mom.”
“Good to meet you, ma’am,” Dave said, and introduced himself to Derek’s family.
“As a matter of fact,” said Mr. Jeter, “Chase was in Germany at the same time we both were.”
“Really? Wow!” Derek’s parents had met there when they were both in the Army, way back in the day.
“Derek,” his mom said, “you can go over to Dave’s from now on anytime. Just as long as you let us know first.”
“Yes, now that we know Mr. Bradway, and we know he’s like a parent to Dave, we’re fine with it,” his dad agreed.
“Great!” Dave said, grinning broadly. “So, Derek, want to come over after school tomorrow?”
“Um . . . I . . .”
Derek felt a surge of panic rising inside him. He knew if he went to Dave’s, they’d be swinging golf clubs again, and Derek didn’t want to do any more damage to his swing than he’d already done. He suspected that the reason he’d failed to get a hit today was that he’d thrown off his swing by hitting so many golf balls the day before.
“Um . . . actually, I’ve gotta do a bunch of homework tomorrow afternoon . . . and studying.”
Derek saw Dave’s face fall into a sad expression. He hated disappointing Dave, and he knew what Dave must be thinking—that Derek didn’t want to be friends with him anymore.
But that wasn’t it at all!
If only he could have explained right then and there! But he didn’t want to say something bad about playing golf that would hurt Dave’s feelings. If he could just talk to his parents first, they’d know what to do.
But there was no time for that. Chase and Dave said good-bye to the Jeters, and they went their separate ways.
Back in the car Derek finally spoke up. “Dad?”
“Yes, Son?”
“Is it possible to ruin your baseball swing by playing golf?”
“Why? Is that what you think happened today?”
“Kind of.”
Mr. Jeter glanced at Derek in the rearview mirror. “How many golf balls have you been hitting?”
“I must have hit a couple hundred yesterday. Dave’s got his own driving cage.”
“Hmm. Couple hundred, huh? That’s a whole lot.”
“Yeah, my arms were really sore.”
“Well, that’s probably it, then,” said his dad. “Your arms were so tired, you had to put too much of your body into your swing today. No wonder you were swinging too hard.”
“So you don’t think I screwed up my swing by playing golf? I mean, it’s two different kinds of swings . . .”
“I don’t think so,” said Mr. Jeter. “You don’t have to worry about that. Not at this point in your career. You just make sure you don’t wear yourself out before a game. That way you can get into your rhythm and let it flow.”
Derek nodded. “Thanks, Dad.” Now he felt better. His dad’s baseball advice was always right, and it felt right this time too. His arms had been tired. It was true. And now he felt bad about hurting Dave’s feelings.
As soon as they got back home, Derek ran to the phone and dialed Dave’s number.
“Hello?”
“Hi. It’s me, Derek.”
“Oh . . . hi.”
Derek could hear it in his voice. The hurt. The sadness. “Hey, man, you want to come over here tomorrow afternoon instead? We can play some ball on the Hill.”
“Huh? I thought you had so much work.”
“Yeah. Well, I’m gonna do it tonight.”
“Great!”
He could hear the relief in Dave’s voice. He must have known Derek was fudging the truth—after all, they were in the same class, with the same work and upcoming tests—but he seemed willing not to press the issue.
“So why don’t you come over here, then?” Dave asked.
Derek winced. “Listen, man, you said yourself you want to learn the rules of baseball, right?”
“Yeah, but you could teach me here, too.”
“Not the same as doi
ng it during a game, with a bunch of other guys!”
“Yeah, that’s the thing . . . .”
“Don’t worry about them,” Derek said. “You’re with me, and you’re my friend now. They dis you, they’re dissing me, too.”
“Okay, then . . . I guess,” Dave said, giving in. “You sure they’ll be okay with me being there?”
“Are you kidding?” Derek said, laughing. “There’s always room for one more on the Hill!”
Chapter Eight
PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT?
Derek sat in class, staring at the second hand as it wound slowly around the clock. As soon as the final bell rang, Gary Parnell was all over him.
“So? How’d you do, my friend?” He held up his own science test, with the big red 98 circled in red twice, and waited for Derek’s answer.
Derek scowled and held up his own paper. It was nothing to be ashamed of—a 92—but not close to Gary’s grade. Once again the king of the hill had kept his throne.
It was like this all the time, or at least it had been for the past two years. At the end of the previous school year, Derek had actually outdone Gary on one single, solitary test, but that had only made Gary study harder. Derek hadn’t beaten him since.
Still, the whole competition wasn’t such a bad thing. Derek hadn’t scored less than 90 on any of his tests all spring. Remembering his contract, he felt satisfied that he wasn’t going to break the rule about working hard and getting good grades.
“I’ve gotta go,” Derek said, gathering his papers and stuffing them into his book bag.
“Gotta go do what? Play baseball?” Gary snorted. His contempt for sports knew no bounds.
“I think you should try it sometime,” Derek told him. “It might help you stay sharp. You might even get a ninety-nine or a hundred next time.”
Gary rolled his eyes and looked like he wanted to say something clever, but before he could think what to say, Derek was gone, leaving him there with his mouth open.
Derek jogged down the hall and out the front doors, looking for Dave, who’d already left the classroom. But Dave was gone.
Derek hoped he would show up at the Hill and not chicken out. But Derek didn’t have to worry for long. When Derek arrived, Dave was there, waiting patiently for everyone to arrive. Across the parking lot sat the Mercedes. Chase stood next to it, polishing the shiny chrome wheels with a towel.
“Hey,” Dave said, holding up his mitt. “Glad you made it so quick.”
“How’d you do on the test?” Derek asked.
“Eighty-nine. You?”
“Somewhere like that,” Derek said. He didn’t want to get into a grades competition with Dave. He wanted to teach him to play better baseball, and to make sure the other kids accepted him as part of the group.
They started tossing the ball back and forth. Vijay showed up after a few minutes, and while he was surprised to see Dave there, he didn’t seem at all upset about it.
Derek put Vijay at first and Dave at third. He sent some grounders and line drives Dave’s way and called out situations, to teach Dave what to do with the ball when it came his way.
If there were a runner on third, for instance, Dave would need to check the runner back to the base on a grounder before throwing to first. If he caught a liner with the runner on third, he didn’t need to throw to first. Instead he had to get to third before the runner got back to the base, but he didn’t need to tag him.
“Wow, there sure are a lot of rules in baseball,” Dave said, shaking his head.
“It’s a lot to learn all in one session,” Derek admitted. “But it’s gonna help. You’ll see.”
Things were going well for a while—until Jeff and Jason showed up with Isaiah. When they saw Dave there, they stopped where they were and started murmuring to one another.
Dave saw them too, and Derek could tell he was worried. “Hey,” Derek told him, “chill for a minute. I’ll be right back.” He went over to Jeff and the others and said, “What’s up, guys?”
“Do we have to let that kid play with us?” Jason asked. “He thinks he’s all that.”
“And he stinks at baseball too,” Jeff added.
“That’s why I invited him here,” Derek explained. “And his name is Dave. Dave Hennum. By the way, he’s not a snob either. Not even close.”
“Are you telling me he’s not rich?” Isaiah asked.
“No . . . but he’s not a snob. You guys are the ones being snobs, if you ask me,” said Derek.
“Yeah, you say that because he lets you ride in the Mercedes,” Jeff said with a smirk. The others laughed, and Derek was dismayed to see Vijay there, laughing along with the rest.
That really surprised Derek. Vijay of all people should have known how Dave would feel about being left out. Derek turned and saw Dave standing there, shifting from one foot to the other, waiting for someone to include him.
“Come on, guys—at least give him a chance,” Derek pleaded. “Vij?”
Vijay shrugged and looked away from Derek and to Jeff.
Jeff and Jason looked at each other and shrugged also. “Okay, I guess,” Jeff said. “But only for your sake, Derek. I just hope you remember who your real friends are.”
Derek glanced back at Dave, who was pretending not to notice that they were all in a huddle talking and pointing to him.
“Dave’s my real friend too,” Derek told him, and watched as their eyes all widened. “He’s a great kid.”
“If you say so,” said Jason. “Okay, then. Let’s play ball.”
And the huddle mercifully broke up. They started playing, taking positions on the slope, where the bases were marked off by landmarks such as a shrub or a bare patch on the grass.
Derek started announcing the game as usual, and Dave started to get into the swing of things, at least in the beginning. He even threw to the right base, twice—and got mock cheers from Jeff, Jason, and Isaiah.
But when Dave came to the plate and threw the ball up into the air to hit it, he kept missing—over and over again. Derek and Vijay both tried to get him to swing level, but Dave couldn’t seem to get it into his head that a baseball swing was not a golf swing.
And now the snarky comments started to come, fast and furious.
“Air ball.”
“Going, going . . . missed.”
“Whew, felt the wind from that one!”
Finally Dave had had enough. He picked up his mitt and walked off toward where Chase was waiting by the car.
“Hey, where you going?” Derek called after him.
“Home,” Dave said without turning around. “See you.”
Derek jogged after him for a few paces, but Dave just walked faster, until Derek could see that there was no point. Then Derek turned back to the others.
“You guys happy now?” he asked. “I hope you’re all real proud of yourselves for driving him away.”
“Aw, poor baby,” Jeff mocked, waving as the Mercedes pulled away. “I guess we made the baby cry.”
“He didn’t cry,” Derek said. “And if he did, so what? How do you think those comments made him feel?”
“You can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen,” said Jason, and the others laughed, including Vijay, who still wasn’t looking at Derek.
“Hey,” Derek said. “So what if he’s not great at baseball? Lots of kids aren’t that great at it, but you don’t goof on them. Besides, maybe he’s good at other things—things you guys can’t even do.”
“Like what?” Isaiah asked.
“Like . . . like golf!” Derek immediately wished he hadn’t said that.
“Oooh. Golf. Of course. The rich kids’ game!” All the kids laughed at Jeff’s joke, missing Derek’s point completely.
“Hey, you know what? I’m going home,” Derek said.
“Why? What’d we do?” Jeff asked, holding his hands out. “Come on, Jeter. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.”
“You want to hang with me? You’ve got to be all right with my fr
iends,” Derek said, staring at each of them in turn. “Besides, Dave’s on our team, and we need him to play better ball.”
There. At least none of them could argue with that point.
“I’m going to invite him back here again soon, and I hope he comes,” Derek went on. “And if he does, we’re going to make him feel welcome. All right?” He waited for their answer, but none came. “All right?”
“I guess,” Jeff said, shrugging. “Sure, okay.”
“Me too,” said Isaiah.
“Yeah, all right,” said Jason.
“Vijay?”
Vijay stared at the ground and nodded. Derek guessed that there was something else eating at him, but he couldn’t figure out what that might be.
Oh well, he thought. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
• • •
For each game, one of the players was assigned to bring snacks and drinks, and today was Derek’s turn. He and his mom had brought carrots, orange slices, bananas, and juice boxes.
“That should hold ’em,” said Mrs. Jeter. “Power food. You guys are going to score a lot of runs today!”
“If only it were that easy,” said Derek sadly.
“Hey, old man, what’s the matter?” His mom could always tell when something was on his mind. “Where’s your fighting spirit today?”
Derek sighed. “Aw, Mom, the guys are ganging up against Dave, and I’m caught right in the middle.”
“Well, that’s the place to be, if you want to solve the problem. You just tell the guys to ease up. Dave’s their teammate, for goodness’ sake.”
“I told them,” Derek said. “But it doesn’t seem to help.”
“Hmm . . . . Well, my advice is, concentrate on your own game right now. Maybe the others will pick up on your focus and you guys can win the game. That’ll put everybody in a more friendly mood.”
Derek smiled and nodded. His mom was always full of good advice.
The kids started arriving, and soon Derek was fully involved in warm-ups. Dave showed up for the game, much to Derek’s relief. He’d been afraid that after what had happened on the Hill yesterday afternoon, Dave might just drop out of Little League altogether!
