Two-Minute Drill

by Mike Lupica

  A few good surprises.

  Mostly bad.

  “I don’t understand,” he said to Coach Williams.

  “Bobby Mazzilli broke a bone in his wrist today on a play at the plate. His mom just called from the hospital,” he said.

  “How?” Nick said.

  “He was being a catcher, even in preseason,” Coach Williams said. “Blocked the plate like a champ, Les Roy flattened him, and both of them fell on his right wrist. He’s gonna be fine, but he’s gonna miss a chunk of the season. How much depends on how fast or slow he heals. For now, all we know is that he’s in a soft cast.”

  Nick could actually hear himself breathing, even though he didn’t feel as if he’d heard a lot from Coach Williams since he’d said “varsity catcher.”

  “Anyway,” the coach said, “I just wanted to come over and tell you myself that you’re going to have to play up for now.”

  Nick noticed for the first time that the coach was small for a grown-up, taller than Nick but not by a lot, with blond hair and a young face.

  Nick said, “You still want me after seeing a throw like that?”

  Coach Williams put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Anybody can teach you control, son,” he said. “God has to give you an arm like that.”

  “But I thought there was a rule at Hayworth that says you can’t play varsity sports until eighth grade,” Nick said. Almost sounding like he was trying to talk the coach out of it.

  He saw that Coach Williams was smiling again.

  “Not anymore,” he said.