The DH

by John Feinstein

  Bailey Warner pitched well in front of a packed house, but Jack Duval, Chester’s pitcher, was just as good. The teams were tied, 1–1, after seven innings, and Coach Birdy decided that Warner had gone far enough. Needless to say, Bailey didn’t want to come out.

  “Coach, I feel fine,” he said. “I just struck out two guys last inning.”

  “Bailey, we agreed when you came back that your pitch count wasn’t going above eighty-five the rest of the season,” Coach Birdy said. “That’s what your doctor and I agreed to, right? Well, you’re at ninety-four. I can’t send you out there again. I’m not going to put your future at risk—no matter how big the game.”

  No one wanted to see Warner come out. Alex had found his comeback inspiring. He wasn’t throwing as hard as he had before his injury, but he was getting guys out. Alex didn’t lack faith in the bullpen; he just had more faith in Warner.

  Sure enough, Don Warren came in and gave up a scratch run in the top of the eighth. A walk, a sacrifice bunt, a stolen base, and a sacrifice fly gave Chester a 2–1 lead.

  Duval came out to pitch the bottom of the eighth. The Lions had the top of the order coming up.

  Cardillo worked a walk on a 3–2 pitch that could have gone either way. Alex, standing in the on-deck circle, had a pretty good view of the pitch and wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been called strike three.

  “About time we caught a break with an umpire,” he said to himself as he walked to the plate. He was expecting a bunt sign, but apparently Coach Birdy didn’t want to give up an out with only three left in the game.

  Alex took two pitches for balls, then lined a single to left. Cardillo held up at second. As Matt walked to the plate, Chester’s coach, who Alex knew was one of their assistant football coaches, walked to the mound. Alex figured that was going to be it for Duval. He was wrong. The coach jogged back to the dugout. Matt stepped in, and at that moment, Alex was convinced the Lions were going to win. Duval had done a good job on Matt—he’d gotten him out twice on fly balls and walked him once—but he was tiring. A three-run home run right now would be a perfect way to end the home season.

  Neither of Duval’s first two pitches came close to the plate. Alex knew Duval didn’t want to pitch around Matt and load the bases. He’d have to throw a strike here. Matt stepped out to see if he had the hit sign. He did. What’s more, Coach Birdy wanted both Jeff and Alex to take off with the pitch. No doubt he was thinking a ball hit in the gap would end the game if both runners were already in motion.

  Alex saw Cardillo repeat the sign to him to make sure he had it. He nodded to let him know he understood. Matt stepped in. Duval took his stretch, paused for a long moment, and threw. Alex put his head down and took off. He glanced back to the plate in time to see Matt uncurling the swing that had become so familiar to him.

  The ball took off in a screaming line, headed in the direction of the left-center field gap, just as Coach Birdy had hoped. But then, suddenly, Alex saw Chester shortstop Mike Jaynes take one step to his left, leap in the air, and somehow stab the rising liner in his glove. His momentum carried him right across the second base bag—doubling off Cardillo, who was halfway to third.

  Too late, Alex realized what was happening. He stopped dead in his tracks and tried to scramble back to first. He had no chance. Jaynes swept across the second base bag and in one motion flicked the ball to first—well ahead of Alex’s desperate attempt to get back. Alex ended up with a faceful of dirt as a result of his wild dive, which came up well short of the base.

  It was a triple play…a stunning, game-ending triple play. While the Chester players mobbed one another, Alex got to his knees and stared in disbelief at the celebration. He noticed Matt, who had gotten two steps out of the batter’s box, standing with his hands on his hips. Coach Bloom came to help Alex up.

  “That was nobody’s fault, Alex,” he said. “One of those crazy plays. Matt hit it right on the nose, but right at somebody.”

  “Not exactly,” Alex said. “The guy made a great play.”

  “Yup, he did,” Coach Bloom said. “But we’ll get ’em tomorrow. You’ll get ’em tomorrow.”

  Alex could only hope that he was right.

  There were plenty of media people on hand, in part because the two games would decide the conference champion but also because of the circumstances that had made the two games important. The players stuck around to talk and then made their way to the locker room. Coach Birdy told them he wanted to talk to them before they hit the showers.

  Alex stopped for a minute to talk to his dad, whom he had spotted climbing into the stands in the third inning, and also to his mom and Coach Archer, who had been sitting several rows away. He figured it would be pretty awkward for the three of them to sit together.

  “Tough one, I know,” his dad said, giving only a handshake since Alex was caked with dirt and sweat and he was still wearing a shirt and tie. “But you’ve still got tomorrow.”

  His dad had already told him at dinner the night before that he had to be in Chicago on Friday. In the past, that sort of excuse had sounded pretty weak to Alex. Now he understood—and said so.

  “How’d it go with the Herman brothers?” Alex asked.

  “They’re nice kids,” his dad replied. “But, boy, did their father make a mess of things. This won’t be easy.”

  He decided to ignore all the dirt and give Alex a hug. “I have to run to the airport. The meeting’s at seven tomorrow morning. Text me as soon as the game’s over. I know you’ll get it done.”

  His mom and Coach Archer said essentially the same thing. “We were in worse situations during basketball, and you came through,” Coach Archer said. “We’ve got faith in you.”

  Coach Birdy’s message in the locker room wasn’t all that different.

  “We’re not in a bad position at all,” he said. “Remember, if we win by more than one run tomorrow, we win the title because the first tiebreaker is score differential. So if we outscore them by two tomorrow, we’re going to be champions.”

  “What if we outscore them by one?” Brendan Chu asked.

  “Then it comes down to runs on the road. So if we win by a run and score at least three at their place, we still win.”

  “What if,” Jonas asked, “we win by two to one? Then we’ve both got three runs total and two on the road.”

  Coach Birdy nodded. “Yeah, we’d like to avoid that because then it comes down to a coin flip.”

  “Coin flip?” they all said almost at once. “Coin flip?”

  “Hey,” Matt said. “It won’t come down to that. They got lucky today. We’ll kick their butts tomorrow. Bailey was great today; Goldie will be great tomorrow too.”

  “Greater!” Warner shouted.

  One other question suddenly occurred to Alex.

  “Coach, even if we win tomorrow, we’re still technically a half game behind because of the Haverford Station game,” he said.

  Coach Birdy nodded. “The league commissioner just filled me in on that a few minutes ago,” he said. “Since it’s now possible that game might mean something, they’ve finally decided that we’ll go over there on Monday to finish it if we win tomorrow and if we win the tiebreaker.”

  “Or the coin flip,” Cardillo said.

  Coach Birdy nodded. “Right. Remember, we were leading that game five–nothing in the sixth before it got suspended.”

  “Anyone got a two-headed coin?” Matt said.

  They all laughed at that and headed for the showers.

  “Coin flip?” Alex repeated to Jonas.

  “No worries, Goldie,” he said. “Like Matt said, we got you pitching. We’re not losing.”

  Alex hadn’t pitched for a week, but he felt great from the minute he went out to warm up. Chester had seating for even fewer people than Chester Heights did, and by the time Alex walked in from the bullpen, there wasn’t a seat to be had or, for that matter, any open space for standing.

  He felt even better after the top of the fir
st. Chester’s coach, Wayne Tribbett, had gone with Duval—his best guy—the day before. Frank Chamblee, their number two starter, wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t Duval.

  Chamblee began the game with a walk to Cardillo. Alex, seeing the infield playing deep, bunted on the first pitch and easily beat it out for a hit. Then, on a 1–1 pitch, Matt hit one of his out-of-sight home runs. As he rounded the bases ahead of Matt, Alex couldn’t help but think that it would’ve been nice to have had that home run the previous day in the eighth inning.

  Matt took a different view. As he crossed home plate and high-fived Alex and Cardillo, he said, “That takes care of one tiebreaker—we’ve already scored more road runs than they have. It’s up to you to do the rest, Goldie.”

  As it turned out, Alex had plenty of help. Matt hit another home run in the third inning, and Oliver Flick and Lucas Mann produced another run with back-to-back doubles in the fourth. The lead was still 5–0 in the sixth, and Coach Birdy told Alex he wasn’t going out to pitch the seventh.

  “But, Coach, I’m fine,” Alex said in protest.

  “I know you are,” Coach Birdy said. “But I’m pretty sure between Patton and Ethan and Don, we can get three outs. And I may need you Monday.” He smiled. “We’re going to have another game to play, remember?”

  Alex hadn’t forgotten. But still…

  “Coach, we’re up five–nothing in that game too—remember?” Alex said.

  Coach Birdy smiled. “How could I forget? But they have runners on first and second in the sixth. We need six outs there. We only need three here. I hope I won’t need you, but just in case, I want to save that inning for then.”

  Alex knew he was right, but he would have liked to have closed the season with a shutout. Any debate ended when the Lions scored three more runs in the top of the seventh. The Clippers were completely lifeless against Patton Gormley in the bottom of the inning, and the final score was 8–0. The Lions celebrated as if they’d won the title—which they believed they had.

  After they’d talked to the media and made the short trip back to Chester Heights, Coach Birdy stood up in the front of the bus before they all got off.

  “You guys did great work today,” he said. “Alex, you were fantastic; Matt, you’re the best DH a team could hope for; and the rest of you were terrific. We’ve now beaten Chester in three sports this year with a championship at stake.”

  He paused and looked at Alex and Jonas, sitting, as usual, together near the back of the bus. “Must be Myers and Ellington, right?”

  They all laughed and cheered for Alex and Jonas.

  Coach Birdy put up a hand.

  “I don’t want any wild celebrating this weekend,” he said. “Have fun tonight, but take it easy tomorrow and Sunday. We still have to wrap up the Haverford Station game to be fifteen-and-one and win the league. If we don’t, we’re fourteen-and-two, and Chester wins it with fifteen-and-one.”

  It sounded strange to hear Coach Birdy talking about going 15–1 when they had started the week with a conference record of 11–2. But thanks to the two forfeits, they had magically become 13–0 going into the first Chester game, and they were now 14–1, with one game to finish. It had been, to put it mildly, a strange season.

  “I know we have a comfortable lead,” Coach Birdy continued. “But I want you to keep two things in mind. First, Billy Twardzik came back to play in their two games this week. The doctors didn’t want him playing the field, but he was their DH.” He glanced at Matt. “Twardzik went four-for-eight in the two games, including a home run. So he can still hit and he’s dangerous. Plus, you can bet we’re going to face a hostile atmosphere over there.

  “We need six outs. Bailey gets the ball first. The rest of you pitchers, be prepared. I don’t care if each of you gets one out apiece as long as we get the six we need. Be rested. Remember, we win and we go to Easton for the sectionals next weekend. Let’s make sure we get there.”

  In truth, even though Alex followed his coach’s orders, he had the best weekend he’d had all spring.

  On Friday night, everyone went to Hope’s for the first party she’d thrown in several weeks. The weather was warm, and the dance floor had been moved to the veranda on the back side of the house. Alex spent a large chunk of the night dancing with Christine, losing her just once when he went to get drinks and found her dancing—naturally—with Matt. Even that didn’t really bother him.

  The next day, he and Christine went for a bike ride before everyone met at Stark’s. Then the two of them went to the movies and for a walk around the mall. Their goodbye kiss, in front of Christine’s house after Alex had insisted on biking her home, was the best and longest of their relationship.

  “That was a fun day,” she said.

  “Yeah, it was,” he said. “I hope we won’t be able to see each other next weekend because I’ll be in Easton….”

  “I’ll be there too,” she said. “Dick Jerardi and Stevie arranged for me to cover the sectionals for the Daily News.”

  “Great! But how will you get there?”

  “I’ll drive with Steve Garland,” she said.

  He gave her a look.

  “Alex, don’t start again,” she said. “For one thing, you know he’s been dating Lisa Feinberg since they were sophomores. For another, Ally will be in the car too. So just stop.” Ally Bachinski was a photographer for the Weekly Roar.

  “Sorry,” he said, feeling sheepish. “Every once in a while, my evil twin jumps out of me before I can stop him.”

  “I know,” she said. “But no backsliding.”

  She stood on tiptoe and kissed him one more time.

  “See you Monday,” she said, pushing her bike in the direction of her back porch. “Rest tomorrow. Don’t screw up on Monday.”

  “We won’t,” Alex said, meaning it.

  Coach Birdy hadn’t been kidding about a hostile crowd at Haverford Station. There were actually hecklers waiting for them when the bus arrived, and Alex could see from the window that there were a number of security guards to escort them to the locker room.

  Matt, sitting two rows in front of Alex and Jonas, shook his head when he saw what was waiting outside.

  “I shouldn’t have come,” he said. “I’m red to a bull to all of these people.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Alex said. “We wouldn’t be playing to clinch a championship if not for you. It wouldn’t feel the same winning without you here.”

  Since Matt had been ejected from the game, he couldn’t be in the dugout. He could sit next to the dugout, but not in it and not in uniform.

  Matt smiled as they all stood up to get off the bus. “You’re a good man, Goldie,” he said. “But the fact is, if I hadn’t acted like an idiot back in April, we would already have won the championship.”

  They filed off, surrounded by the security people. It didn’t appear that anyone wanted to do much more than heckle them.

  “Hey, Gordon, whose head are you going to throw at today?” one heckler yelled, getting just a little too close for comfort.

  “He’s not even playing, and he hasn’t pitched in more than a month, you moron,” Alex said, taking a step in the direction of the man.

  “Easy, Goldie,” Matt said, pulling him back. “Let’s just go get six outs.”

  That proved easier said than done. The game resumed with Haverford Station runners on first and second and no one out in the sixth. Eddie Kenworthy, whose bunt had so infuriated Matt that he had thrown the fateful pitch at Billy Twardzik, was on second, and Twardzik, having been hit by Matt’s pitch six weeks earlier, stood on first, looking just fine.

  Bailey Warner was on the mound. He promptly made things worse by walking the first hitter, Bobby Kotlowitz, to load the bases.

  Coach Birdy came out right away to talk to Warner. Alex remembered what he had said about all the other pitchers needing to be ready because he would have a quick hook if anyone appeared to be struggling.

  Alex looked around the stands and noticed that everyone wa
s on their feet. It occurred to him that for everyone at Haverford Station—friends and families of the players, students, even teachers—this wasn’t just about winning a baseball game. They were still angry because of what Matt had done to Twardzik. Alex understood. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to imagine how he would have felt if an opposing pitcher had done to one of his teammates what Matt had done to Twardzik. What if he’d spent a week wondering if Jonas would live, much less play baseball again?

  He opened his eyes to see Coach Birdy trotting back to the dugout. Bailey had pitched well since his return. Clearly, the coach had faith that he would get his act together.

  Warner settled down and struck out the next two hitters. Alex breathed a sigh of relief. If they got out of this jam with a five-run lead, they were probably home free. The next hitter was another basketball player Alex recognized—Pete Cowen, the catcher. He looked like a catcher, short and stocky, the kind of hitter who didn’t make contact a lot but had plenty of power if and when he did.

  He also hit left-handed. Coach Birdy decided to get his one left-handed pitcher, Don Warren, in to face him. Alex wasn’t sure about the move. Warner had looked good getting the two strikeouts. But it wasn’t his call.

  Warren jogged in, took his warm-up pitches, and promptly sailed his first pitch over Cowen’s head. It went to the backstop, advancing all three runners. Six weeks after his life-changing bunt, Kenworthy scored. Twardzik moved to third, Kotlowitz to second. It was now 5–1. The crowd booed Don Warren’s wild pitch—even though it hadn’t come close to Cowen—and Cardillo went to the mound to settle Warren down. Alex could see Warren nodding his head the way a pitcher did when he wasn’t listening. His body language said, Get off the mound and let me pitch.

  Cardillo did.

  Not surprisingly, Warren tried to throw strike one on the next pitch—a fastball right down the middle. Cowen swung smoothly, and the ball took off in a high arc toward left field. Alex started to sprint back but realized after a few steps he had no chance. The ball sailed well over the fence. He watched it bounce on the other side and roll up against a tree. The crowd was going nuts as Cowen, having shown remarkable opposite field power, circled the bases.