by Derek Jeter
Jimmy nodded quickly.
“Then shake hands, boys. And let this be the end of any kind of bullying from here on in.” They shook hands, and that was the end of it.
• • •
Back out in the hall Derek walked Sharlee to her classroom before going to his own.
“Well?” he asked her. “What did you think?”
Sharlee made a face. “It was okay,” she said. “But I think Jimmy should have had to apologize to me.”
“Hmm,” Derek said thoughtfully. “Well, you never know. Maybe he will.”
“I don’t think so,” Sharlee said. “He’s not nice, like you.”
“You never know,” Derek said. “People can change.” He hugged her and sent her into her classroom. “See you after school,” he said.
He closed the door behind her and let out a sigh. Thinking about what had happened over the past twenty-four hours, he felt lighter, freer than before. He hoped he was right about Jimmy changing his behavior. But he knew he couldn’t control that.
He could only control his own.
• • •
If Derek had thought the incident was over with his apology to Jimmy, he had another thing coming. That day after school everyone on Jeter’s Hill wanted to know where he’d been that morning, and why he’d been so late for class.
Derek tried to worm his way out of telling them, but then Isaiah arrived and said he’d seen Derek going into the principal’s office. Derek wound up having to tell them the whole story, leaving out a lot of the more painful details, of course.
“Parnell was letting me have it all day about how sports leads to bad behavior,” Derek told them. “That was the worst part.”
“Well,” Jeff joked, “look at the bright side. At least now you have your own personal driver, just like Dave Hennum.”
“Yeah, and I have to listen to bad jokes like that about it, just like Dave,” Derek said with a crooked smile. “Why don’t you guys lay off him—seriously?”
The smiles on their faces faded. “Yeah, I guess we’ve given him a pretty hard time,” Jason admitted.
“And he’s not a snob, either,” Derek informed them. “Right, Vijay?”
Ever since the day at the batting cages, Derek had wanted to ask Vijay about why he was afraid to be friendly to Dave when other kids besides Derek were around. Now, seeing his moment, he had put Vijay on the spot.
“Um . . . no, actually,” said Vijay, clearly embarrassed. “I can confirm he is normal, like the rest of us. Maybe richer, but not a snob.”
“What are you, friends with him?” Jeff asked.
Vijay shrugged, feeling Derek’s eyes on him. “Yes. We are friends,” he admitted. “Hey, why not? He’s cool.”
“He never played baseball in his life before this year,” Jason said. “Never. You’ve got to admit that’s weird.”
“No, it isn’t,” Vijay said. “Where he comes from they all play golf. Where I come from they all play cricket. So what? It’s all sports.”
“I don’t know if I would call golf and cricket sports,” Jeff said. “I mean, what kid plays them?”
“People in different places do different things,” Vijay explained. “If you go traveling, you will see. It doesn’t mean they’re weird. Maybe they would think we’re weird, right?”
That got everybody laughing, and the serious mood was broken. They went back to playing ball. But later, after the others had gone, Vijay said, “Derek, I want to say that I’m sorry I let you and Dave down before.”
“Huh?”
“You know,” Vijay said. “I was afraid the other kids would stay away from me if I made friends with Dave. But I shouldn’t have been afraid. After all, you weren’t afraid to be his friend. Or my friend, when I first came here. So thank you.”
“For what?” Derek asked.
“For giving me the chance to say so,” said Vijay. “Thank you, my friend.”
Chapter Fourteen
STREAK ON THE LINE
From that day on, everything seemed to fall into place. Sharlee seemed like her old self again. Derek lived through the two-week ban on riding the school bus. His grades were good, and he didn’t get into any further trouble.
As for Dave, he had become a regular member of the gang on Jeter’s Hill. Once Vijay declared to everyone that he was friends with Dave, everyone else kind of fell in line.
It helped that most of them were on the same Little League team. It helped even more that the Red Sox hadn’t lost a game in three weeks!
Dave’s hitting had improved, and so had his understanding of the game. He now knew which base to throw to, when to cover the bag at third, and how to adjust to different game situations.
He wasn’t the only one either. Vijay had become a decent hitter too, thanks to the tips Derek’s dad had given him. And as for Derek, he’d made only one out at the plate in the past three weeks, and that one out had ended a 9 for 9 hitting streak.
As his mom the accountant pointed out to him, “By the way, old man, did you know that in spite of your tough start, you’re now hitting above .300 for the season?”
It was no wonder, then, with all that hitting, that the Red Sox now had a four-game winning streak, bringing their record to 10–3!
With one game left in the regular season, they were now in third place, one game behind the Indians for second, and two games behind the first-place Yankees. The Yankees had won it all last year and were undefeated this year. They had already beaten both the Red Sox and the Indians, so they were a lock for first place.
The Mets, in fourth place, had already won their final game this morning, but they still trailed the Red Sox by half a game. And since the Sox had beaten the Mets this season, with a win in their game today, they would finish ahead of the Mets and make the playoffs!
Today their opponent was the Royals, a team with a losing record. But those same Royals were the only team so far this year that had beaten the Indians, so they were dangerous for sure.
Derek was confident the Sox could handle them, though. The way the team was playing, winning had become infectious.
Things started well, with Jeff mowing down the first Royals hitter. But then he gave up a sharp single followed by a walk, to put runners on first and second.
As usual in these pressure situations, Derek wanted the ball hit to him. He felt best when he was in control of things. And sure enough, a hard grounder came sizzling his way.
Derek knew this was a chance for a double play. He dove to his right and speared the ball, then sprang to his feet to make the throw—only to find that the ball was still on the ground!
Blood rushed to his head as he reached down to grab it. There was still a chance to make the play at first base, at least. But he rushed his throw, and it was wide, getting by Murph and going into foul territory!
By the time Vijay retrieved the ball and threw it back in, two runs had scored, and the hitter was standing on third base. Derek looked up at the sky, shaking his head. How could he have messed that play up so badly?
Glancing over at the stands, he saw his mom, dad, and Sharlee all yelling encouragement. “Hang in there, Derek!” he heard his mom say over the crowd noise.
He blew out a breath and settled back in at short. The game had just started, after all. There was plenty of time for the Sox to come back. Plenty of time for him to redeem himself.
That was the great thing about baseball, his dad had often told him. If you just hang around and stay ready, you always get another chance to do better.
The Royals were up 3–0 before the Red Sox came to bat in the first. They nearly got one back in the bottom of the inning on Derek’s double, but Cubby was nailed sliding into home plate on the play, and the rally fizzled with no runs scored.
But as the game went on, the Red Sox started chipping away. They scored in the second when Dave homered with the bases empty. They added another run in the fifth when Derek drove Cubby in from first with another double. And finally, still behind 3–2
in the sixth with only one out left, Isaiah came lumbering home from second on a single by Vijay to tie the score and send the game into extra innings!
Across Westwood Fields, on one of the other diamonds, Derek saw the Indians erupt into cheers as they sealed their victory over the Tigers. That meant the Red Sox had to win this game to have any hope of a playoff spot. A loss or a tie, and they’d be eliminated.
The rule was, no inning could start after seven o’clock. After two extra innings the score remained the same. The sun had gotten low in the sky, and it was hard to see from the infield staring in at the plate, because the sun was in the fielders’ eyes.
The ninth inning began at precisely five minutes to seven. This was the last inning, Derek realized. Their last shot. They had to have a win, and they had only one inning to do it!
He was now back at shortstop, after having pitched the previous four innings. His arm was dead tired. Coach Kaufman had taken him out as pitcher only because Derek had reached his pitch limit.
Now the pitcher was Buster. Luckily, the bottom of the Royals’ order was up, and Murph was able to get pop fly outs against the first two hitters. The third, however, smacked a double to left.
After that, Buster seemed to get rattled. He walked the next two hitters he faced. Then he threw a fat strike to the next batter, who looped it over Derek’s head.
Derek turned and ran, trying to keep the ball in sight over his shoulder. He dove for it—and somehow he came up with the ball!
A huge cheer erupted from the rest of the team, and from their supporters in the stands. As he ran back to the bench, both arms thrust high above his head in triumph, Derek heard people screaming his name—and knew it was his family cheering the loudest.
Now it was the Red Sox’s turn. One last chance for a victory. One last turn at bat. One last shot at staying in the playoff hunt.
Derek hoped and prayed he would come up to bat. But for that to happen, two players would have to reach base first. Vijay led off with a strikeout, and Miles popped to second base. But Cubby, up next, smacked a clean single past the shortstop, who lost it in the sun and ducked for cover. Then Jason walked.
And that brought Derek to the plate.
He let two pitches go by that he thought were outside, but the umpire called them both strikes, and Derek found himself in an 0–2 hole, with only one strike standing between the Red Sox and defeat . . . .
The next pitch came in high, but not high enough for Derek to risk being called out on strikes. He swung, trying to stay in balance, but he got under the ball and popped it up behind second base!
Derek groaned in frustration—but then he saw that the second baseman was having trouble finding the ball in the glare of the sun. To Derek’s surprise and delight, the ball glanced off his glove and hit the turf—just as Cubby crossed the plate with the winning run!
After the celebration and the usual handshakes, Vijay threw his arms around Derek and hugged him. “Wow!” he shouted. “That was incredible! Unbelievable! We’re in the playoffs, man!”
“I know,” Derek said, unable to stop smiling. “I can’t believe it! I thought for sure they had that ball.”
“And just think,” said Vijay. “Remember all those line drives you hit that turned into outs during those other games?”
“Boy, do I.”
“And here you go, winning the game on a cheap, dinky fly ball that happened to find the perfect spot!”
“Hey,” said Derek, still grinning like a fool. “That hit wasn’t cheap. I hit it there on purpose!”
Chapter Fifteen
ON THE EDGE
“How did you do?”
Gary and Derek were at their lockers, which happened to be right next to each other.
“I got a ninety-three!” Derek said, holding out his math final for Gary to see. Derek was proud of his grade—he’d worked hard for it—but he wasn’t sure it would be enough.
Gary smirked and slowly pulled the test booklet out of his binder. There it was. “Ninety-nine.”
“Oh well,” Derek said, managing a smile. “I’m not going to go cry about it. You win. Again. But I’ll get you next time.”
“Yeah right,” said Gary, tucking the test back into his binder, probably saving it for future framing. “You always say that.”
“Hey, I did it . . . once.”
“Right. A total fluke. But what do you expect, Derek? When you waste a good mind on sports, that’s what happens. I keep telling you—”
“Hey!” it was Dave who interrupted him.
Derek had seen him approach, but Gary hadn’t been facing that way. Gary jumped at the harsh tone in Dave’s voice, and at the hand Dave laid on his shoulder.
“I heard that,” Dave told him. “And let me tell you, you’re dead wrong.”
“What do you know about it?” Gary said, snorting.
“If it weren’t for sports, I wouldn’t have made a single friend around here.”
Gary’s mouth hung open. He obviously had no idea what to say. Neither did Derek.
“And oh, by the way,” Dave said, pulling a finals booklet out of his book bag, “I got a one hundred, okay?” He showed it to Gary, whose jaw hung even lower.
Derek couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Take that, Parnell! he thought.
“I had no idea you were that smart,” Derek told Dave after Gary had wandered off, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I’m not that smart,” Dave said modestly. “Chase makes me put in long hours studying, so . . .”
“Yeah,” said Derek. “I think your one hundred has more to do with hard work than whether or not you play sports, huh?”
“Guess so.”
“Speaking of which, we’ve got a game to play today.”
“Like I need reminding!” Dave said. “I’ll be there, ready to go. This is the playoffs!”
“Right.” They high-fived and went their separate ways, both knowing that in less than two hours they’d be battling for a spot in the championship game!
• • •
Derek could feel the goose bumps on his arms and all up and down his back. He knew that it was possible his team might lose today, but he didn’t let himself think about that. He knew it was no use letting negative thoughts into your mind. No, you needed to stay positive at moments like these, when everything was on the line.
It was hard to stay positive, though, after the Indians’ pitcher set the Red Sox down one, two, three for five innings in a row—only one inning short of a perfect game.
Luckily, he had reached his pitch limit by league rules and would have to be replaced in the sixth. That was the only thing keeping the Red Sox in the game—that, and some great pitching by Jeff, matching the Indians’ pitcher zero for zero.
Buster took the mound for the top of the sixth, replacing Jeff, as he, too, had hit his limit. Buster looked scared up there, and that made Derek nervous.
“You got him, Murph!” he shouted encouragingly.
On the first pitch the hitter proved him wrong, lacing a triple to deep left-center. Derek swallowed hard. It looked as if the Indians would surely score now, with a man on third and nobody out.
Derek made a trip to the mound and put an arm on Buster’s shoulder. “Don’t be scared, man,” he said. “These guys should be scared of you.”
“But that guy just—”
“He’s their cleanup hitter,” Derek told him. “Best they’ve got. Don’t worry about these other guys. They’ve got nothing. Just throw it right over and trust the rest of us to make the plays behind you.” He clapped Buster on the back and returned to shortstop.
Buster let out a big breath, and threw the next pitch right by the hitter. That seemed to give him more confidence, and he wound up striking the batter out. “There you go!” Derek said. “Just like that!”
On the next pitch the hitter smacked a line drive to Derek’s right. Lunging and diving, Derek made the stab for the out, saving a run!
Then, seeing the runner at thi
rd trying to scramble back, Derek threw to Dave—who was alertly covering third base, just like Derek had taught him.
Double play! Inning over!
The Red Sox whooped and hollered, but Derek and Coach Kaufman both had to remind them that the game was not over. It was still 0–0, and Buster had already reached his weekly pitch limit.
With Derek and Jeff also over their weekly limit, someone else would have to pitch for the Red Sox if the game continued into extra innings—someone who’d never pitched for them, even in practice!
It was now or never, they all realized. This had to be their inning.
It didn’t start well, with Buster striking out. And then Vijay got overexcited and hit an infield pop-up for the second out. Just as Derek was starting to feel they were headed to extra innings after all, Miles got a clean single—his first hit in the last four games!
“Attaboy!” Derek yelled as Miles thrust both fists high over his head. Derek could relate. He’d had a horrific slump himself, and now he knew how it felt to break out of one.
Cubby followed with a slap single to left that he turned into a double, while Miles wound up on third.
Jason was next. He swung through two pitches, but then the Indians’ pitcher threw one wild and inside. It hit Jason on the backside, sending him to first base, loading the bases—and bringing Derek to the plate, with everything on the line!
All his life he’d lain in bed at night dreaming of moments like this. Now he imagined himself hitting the ball hard. Solid contact. That was all he wanted . . . .
The first pitch was on the inside corner, and Derek let it go by for a strike. That was okay with him. He hadn’t seen this pitcher before, and he wasn’t going to swing at a pitch unless he knew he could hit it. Not with fewer than two strikes.
“Strike two!” yelled the ump, to Derek’s shock and dismay. The second pitch had been down below his knees. Only Dave could have hit it.
Part of him wanted to argue with the umpire, but Derek knew that would only ruin his concentration. He needed to stay cool . . . stay positive . . . and now that he had two strikes on him, he needed to protect the plate.
