by Derek Jeter
So instead of saying something to Dave about changing his swing, Derek just told him, “Make the pitcher get the ball down. Don’t swing at anything above the belt.”
Dave looked puzzled, but he’d known Derek long enough, and trusted his baseball smarts enough, to nod his head and say, “Okay.” Derek just hoped Dave would get a low pitch to hit with that golf swing of his.
Dave let two high strikes go by. He looked doubtfully at Derek, but Derek just nodded slowly, to show that he still thought Dave should stick to the plan.
The next pitch was a ball outside. The one after that was over Dave’s head, and now the count was even at 2–2.
Finally the pitcher threw a fastball down at the knees—right where Dave’s swing could get at it. Dave practically jumped out of his shoes, swinging so hard that he nearly fell down. But he made solid contact, and the ball got between the outfielders for a leadoff double! Dave clapped his hands together as he reached second, and pointed in to Derek as if to say, Thanks.
The next hitter dribbled one in front of home plate, and the catcher faked a throw to second, forcing Dave back to the bag, before throwing to first for the out.
Now Derek came up to bat. He knew he had to make contact and get the ball out of the infield. Seeing that there was a big hole between the first and second basemen, he slapped the first pitch that way. It skidded between them and into the outfield!
Dave barreled into third, and seeing his teammates windmilling their arms, he kept on going, steaming toward home. The throw came in, but the tag was too late. Tie game! Dave popped up and pounded his hands together, shouting, “YEAH!”
Derek had taken advantage of the throw home to make it to second base. Standing there now he noticed, though Dave seemed to have no idea, that Dave had ripped a hole in the knee of his pants. Oh, well, Derek thought with a grin. They died a hero’s death.
He could only watch now, and hope that one of the next two hitters would drive him in with the winning run. The first man up, though, struck out on three straight blazing fastballs. The next man walked.
Next up was Tiny himself, and Derek was glad it was him. If anybody could deliver a clutch hit off a tough pitcher, it was the captain.
Tiny worked the count to 3–2, then fouled off three straight pitches, two of which would have been ball four.
He doesn’t want to walk, Derek realized. He doesn’t want to leave it for the next guy. He wants to be the one to drive in the winning run.
The next pitch wasn’t over the plate, but it was close enough for Tiny to get a good swing on it and send it out into right field, just over the first baseman’s head.
Derek was off and running, and he never slowed down till he went into his slide. The ball came in to the plate ahead of Derek. The catcher grabbed it and stuck his mitt out to make the tag. But Derek’s foot came in so hard, and so fast, that it knocked the ball right out of the catcher’s mitt for the winning run.
Game over! 9–8!
Derek popped up and joined his teammates in celebrating, jumping up and down and high-fiving one another.
“Man, that was amazing!” Dave said, with a silly grin spread all over his face. “That was so awesome!”
“You played great!” Derek told him. “You ripped your good pants, though.”
Dave looked down, saw the hole in his jeans, and laughed. “Yeah? Well, yours are ripped too, smart guy.”
Derek looked down to see that he, too, had a hole in his pants! He must have ripped them sliding into the plate just now.
Not that he cared. They’d played, and won, one of the greatest games of their lives!
What a feeling!
“Hey. Jersey.”
Derek’s heart sank in a split second.
“Jumbo! Hey.”
“It’s time. Come on, let’s go.”
Derek turned to Dave, not knowing exactly how to explain to his friend what was going on. But Dave had disappeared.
Through the crowd of kids chest-bumping and high-fiving, Derek saw Dave talking to Grandma by the benches on the other side of the fence.
Derek turned back to Jumbo. “Uh . . .”
“You coming? Or not?”
“I . . . uh . . .”
“Hey! Hey!”
Startled, Derek turned to see Tiny advancing on them, an angry look on his face. “What’s going on, Jumbo? What’re you trying to pull now?”
“Man, you know,” Jumbo said. “He’s part of our thing now, so I was—”
“Don’t even think about it.” Tiny jabbed a finger at Jumbo. “Don’t go draggin’ him into any of that stupid stuff you guys do.”
“What, you think he’s better than us?” Jumbo shot back angrily.
“I don’t see him acting like a big shot, messing up walls with spray paint. Do you?”
“Come on, man! Lots of kids do like that,” Jumbo insisted.
“This place belongs to everybody, not just you. You should show some respect.”
Derek was stunned. Hadn’t Jumbo suggested that all the kids had put their initials on the wall? He’d taken Jumbo’s word for it that they had. But now it was clear that Tiny, at least, would never do something like that, and that Jumbo had been lying to Derek.
Tiny turned his attention to Derek. “You know, you don’t have to do something just because some clown tells you to. You just do what you think is right. Stick with that.”
Derek nodded. “Thanks, Tiny. I mean it. I don’t do stuff like that. But anyway, thank you, guys, for letting me and Dave play here with you. It’s been amazing.”
“What? You’re not coming back next week?” Tiny asked, surprised. “I thought you said you were here for the whole summer.”
“Next time you come,” Jumbo said, “I’ve got a new nickname for you. You want to hear it?”
“Don’t listen to this clown,” Tiny told Derek. “He’s always getting himself and everybody else in trouble. You do what you’ve got to do—whatever you think is right—and never mind what he calls you.”
Derek nodded.
“I hope we see you next week, Jersey,” Tiny added, seeming to read Derek’s mind. “But either way, it’s been good knowing you. Go on now. You’ve got a Yankees game to catch, right?”
“Right,” said Derek, only now remembering that it was almost game time. “Well . . . I hope I do see you guys again sometime.”
“Yeah,” said Jumbo, hanging his head a little in embarrassment.
“Hey, me too,” Tiny said, shaking Derek’s hand. “Maybe one day we’ll see each other over there, huh?” He nodded toward the big ballpark across the street, and smiled. “You never know. You’ve got some skills, man. Keep working at it.”
“Thanks, Tiny!” Derek said. “You guys too. All of you. You guys deserve a real league of your own. And I hope you get to have one again soon.” With that, he jogged over to where Dave and his grandma were waiting.
“What happened back there?” Dave asked. “What took you so long?”
Derek looked at him, at Sharlee and Grandma, and said, “I’ll tell you later.”
He would too. Not Sharlee, of course. He wouldn’t want to upset her with it. And not right now. Not when they were about to go see the Yankees, Dave’s first big-league game ever!
They crossed the street and got in the ticket holders line, and Derek felt his anxieties melting away. He and Dave had just played in—and won—an amazing game, with an incredible bunch of ballplayers.
And now, to top it all off, they were going to see the real Yankees play!
Chapter Fifteen
BASEBALL HEAVEN
From the time they entered the stadium, to the moment when they walked through the passageway and into the upper deck seating area, all Dave kept saying was “Whoa.” His eyes were as wide as they could stretch, and his mouth hung open too.
Sharlee was hopping up and down with excitement. “This is my second time this summer!” she told the people they passed on their way to their seats.
“I
s that really Dave Winfield down there?” Dave finally said, pointing down at number 31 in right field, who was tossing a ball around with the center fielder, warming up.
“That’s him, all right!” Derek said. “And there’s Rickey Henderson over there, and Don Mattingly.”
“I just can’t believe how many people are here!” Dave enthused. “I’ve never seen so many people in one place before.”
“There might be forty thousand or so,” Grandma told him.
“Wow. It looks more like forty million!” said Dave.
“That’s silly,” said Sharlee. “Forty million is, like, twice as many as this.”
Derek laughed. “Sharlee, did you count that out on your fingers?”
“No, but I did count out that cotton candy is three dollars! Are you going to buy me one?”
Everyone laughed. “As a matter of fact,” said Derek, “I did bring some ‘moolah’ along with me, just in the unlikely case you wanted something to eat.”
“Sandwiches first, sweets second,” Grandma said, laying down the law, in spite of the big frown Sharlee put on.
Derek knew his little sister would eat whatever it took to get to the cotton candy. When she wanted something badly enough, she was sure to get it sooner or later. Just like him, with his dream of playing for the Yankees.
Sharlee never quit, and neither would he, until he was down there on that infield—and not just in his dreams!
They ate their sandwiches and settled in to watch the game. The Yankees were playing the Kansas City Royals today, and they all watched as the two teams dueled it out, trading runs, and leads, back and forth.
By the sixth inning, when Sharlee had finished her cotton candy and was working on a chocolate ice cream in a little blue plastic Yankees cap, the score on the field was 8–7, Kansas City.
Dave Winfield was at the plate with two on and two out, two balls and two strikes. “Come on! Hit one out here!” Dave stood up and yelled at the top of his lungs.
Derek grinned. Dave was so into the game that he’d forgotten his usual shyness. It didn’t matter here, anyway. Everyone else was screaming their head off too. It was so loud that the stands were literally vibrating!
On the very next pitch Winfield launched a high, arcing fly ball way into the sky. “It’s coming this way!” Dave shouted.
It was coming their way. Even though they were sitting in the upper deck, Winfield had so much power that he could reach that far. To Derek’s utter amazement, it seemed to be coming straight for them!
Derek was already standing, and now he reached up to try to grab the ball. But it was coming so fast and so hard that he felt a little tinge of fear at that instant. Everybody was reaching out for the same home run ball.
At the last moment a big guy in the row behind them lunged forward and managed to flick the ball away from Derek’s outstretched hands. The ball fell to the floor—where who should pick it up, being closest to the ground, but Sharlee!
“I got it! I got it!” she shrieked, holding it up. “I got it!”
Derek could not believe it. Of all the people reaching for it, it had been Sharlee who’d ended up with the ball. Why, she hadn’t even been watching when Winfield had hit it—and had only looked up when everyone around her had stood up and started yelling.
“Wow, Sharlee! Good for you!” said Grandma. “Great catch!”
“Yaaaaay!” Sharlee said, holding the ball up again for everyone to see. The people in the stands nearby gave her a big round of applause as Winfield rounded the bases, putting the Yankees in the lead, 10–8.
Derek winced and suppressed a groan. He would have had it! If only that guy behind him hadn’t reached for a ball he had no chance of catching, it would have been Derek who’d made the catch!
“Do you think we could wait around after the game to get Dave Winfield to sign it?” he asked Grandma.
“I don’t think so, Derek. It’s been a long game. We’re not going to be able to stay after.”
“Aww.” Derek was disappointed—doubly so because it had been Sharlee, not him, who’d wound up with the ball. After all, Winfield was his hero, not hers.
“I’m sorry, hon. Next time you go see the Yanks, bring it with you, and maybe he’ll sign it then.”
They settled back down, and the game went on. The Royals tied it back up in the top of the ninth, but in the bottom of the inning, Don Mattingly hit a walk-off solo shot to win the game for the Yanks!
“I can’t believe how it ended!” Dave was raving as they left the building and headed for the parking lot. “Man, that was unbelievable!”
They kept on reliving the game, and the one they’d played in themselves beforehand, all the way back to Greenwood Lake, where they pulled into the driveway right behind Grandpa’s pickup truck as he was returning from work. Then, over a very late dinner, they told Grandpa all about their day in the Bronx. Sharlee showed him the home run ball, which particularly seemed to impress him.
“You caught this, huh?” he asked her as she squirmed in his lap. “Your hands must have been pretty sticky from all that cotton candy. I don’t know how else you managed to get it, with all those greedy big people grabbing for it.”
“I don’t know. I just did!” she exulted.
“Watch out for this one,” he told Grandma, nodding toward Sharlee. “Nobody’s going to get in her way!”
• • •
That night as they lay in their beds, Derek finally told Dave what had happened after the game back at the sandlot. He’d already told Grandma while they’d been washing dishes before going up to bed. And as Derek had expected, she’d suggested that maybe he’d gone to the city enough for one summer.
Sharlee was sleeping in the guest bedroom for the week, so Derek didn’t have to worry about her waking up and overhearing him and Dave talking.
“Wow,” Dave said after Derek had told him about Jumbo trying to get Derek to deface the wall of the equipment shed. “I can’t believe kids do that stuff.”
“They don’t all do it,” Derek corrected him. He told Dave about Tiny telling Jumbo off.
“Gee,” Dave said, still shaken. “Things sure are different here in New York.”
“Not really,” said Derek. “I’ve heard of this kind of thing happening in Kalamazoo, too.”
He remembered that when he’d first seen Jumbo, he’d wanted to be just like him—carry himself in that cool way, and casually make great plays in the field like they were nothing. But when he’d seen Jumbo spitting on the ground, and taking advantage of an injured player, it had changed Derek’s view of him. And the graffiti incident had made it obvious that Jumbo was not someone to take after off the field.
Derek had learned a lot about role models lately. He’d always looked to his parents, of course, and his grandma. Vijay, too, in many ways was someone Derek looked up to.
But this summer he’d found some new role models. Starting with his grandpa, whom he’d come to appreciate in a new, deeper way.
Then there was Jordy Johnson. Who would have thought that he’d have anything important to teach Derek about life? But he had.
Finally there was Tiny. Although he didn’t have Jumbo’s cool factor, and he seemed kind of mean at first glance, he really had turned out to be someone to admire—both on the field, with his toughness, and off the field, with his kindness and his firmness in protecting Derek from being led into a big, big mistake.
“You know what?” Derek said. “When I get older, I want to be a leader—like a team captain or something.”
“Like Jumbo and Tiny?” Dave asked.
“Well, not like Jumbo, but yeah. You know, guiding the other kids on the team to be their best all the time, not just on the field.”
He thought of his cousins at the lake, especially all the younger ones. He was going to be sure to be a role model for them for the rest of the summer too.
The two friends fell silent. Outside they could hear the tree frogs making a racket. Dave had been a little nervous th
e first night he’d heard them croaking away in the darkness. But Derek had found one and shown it to him, and after that, Dave had been fascinated by them, not creeped out.
“I wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow,” Dave said finally. “This has been an amazing week.”
“I know. I told you it would be.”
“Maybe next year we can do it again?”
“Yeah, and get Vijay to come too!”
After another brief silence Dave said, “Hey, Derek? Do you remember the first time we met, and you tried to become friends with me?”
“Yeah, I remember. You wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
“I know. Sorry. I didn’t know anybody in town, and here was this kid who wanted to be my friend. . . . Anyway, I just wanted to say you’ve been my best friend, ever—not just a good one.”
“Aw, be quiet, now. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Okay, okay.” After another silence Dave said, “Hey, are you going to try out for basketball this fall?”
“I was thinking about it,” Derek said. “I’d been thinking maybe I should just concentrate on baseball, but then I remembered that Dave Winfield was drafted in three sports. He could have been a star in any one of them. So maybe, yeah, I might.”
“I will if you will,” said Dave.
That made Derek sit up in bed. “That would be kind of cool,” he had to admit.
Dave was really tall for his age, and they had played enough one-on-one games for Derek to know that Dave could play some defense. His jumper needed work, but it would be a blast for both of them to play on Saint Augustine’s team this fall.
For Derek, competition was as natural as breathing. It made him feel totally alive and excited. Besides, no matter how hard he concentrated on baseball, a kid had to have fun during the offseason too, didn’t he?
Derek knew he had a long road ahead of him if he wanted to go from playing in Yankee Stadium’s shadow to playing in the stadium itself.
But he was sure that if he stayed on the right path, worked hard, and didn’t let himself go astray, he had a chance to make it there someday, especially if he kept collecting the best role models he could find—from custodians, like Jordy; to friends, like Dave and Vijay; to family, like his parents and grandparents; to kids he would meet along the way, like Tiny.
