by Mike Lupica
He sat down next to her.
“Mom,” he said, “before you say anything else, you have to know that if I hadn’t gone over there, none of this would have happened.”
Neither one of them had taken off their baseball shoes. She was still wearing her Astros cap—not the one she’d bought, but the one that Sarge had given her.
“You told me to leave well enough alone and I didn’t listen,” Matt said. “And now I might have cost Ben his season.”
“No,” she said, “the only one who can do that is his father.”
“So we need to talk to him,” Matt said, “and make things right.”
“He’s the boy’s father,” she said.
“He’s still wrong,” Matt said. “You could make him see that. You’re good at stuff like that.”
“I’ve probably said more to Ben than I should have already,” she said. “And that probably hasn’t helped him out much with his father, either.”
“He has to let him play,” Matt said.
“And I’m still hopeful he will,” she said.
“When?”
“When he gets over himself,” his mom said.
Matt went up to his room then, closed the door, opened his laptop, went to MLB Network, found a game between the Yankees and the Nationals. Gleyber Torres had become another young second baseman Matt loved to watch. But Matt couldn’t focus on Torres, or on the game. His mind kept wandering to the same place: Ben’s house.
Ben’s dad was angry at his mom and now he was taking that out on Ben, and not letting him play ball. Great, Matt thought. It was grown-ups who acted like children sometimes, especially when the grown-ups were the ones who couldn’t get their way.
What would Mr. Roberson do if the Astros won the league championship and made it to the state tournament? Would he make Ben miss that, too?
But Matt didn’t want Ben to miss even one game.
He had to do something. He had to do something, or his mom did, or both of them. Ben’s dad was wrong. They did have to do something to make things right. He closed his laptop, leaned back, rested his head against the pillows he’d propped up behind him, underneath his José Altuve poster.
Altuve was his baseball hero, an undersize guy with all that power.
Right now, Matt didn’t feel as if he had any.
He tried telling himself that they were just baseball games. That it was just baseball. But in his heart, he knew it was about a lot more than that.
THIRTY-SEVEN
The Astros won their game against the Phillies without Ben.
He had texted Matt a couple of hours before the game started to tell him that he definitely wouldn’t be there, that his dad hadn’t changed his mind.
Ben: Still baseball grounded.
Matt: U ok?
Ben: Just bummed.
Matt: Can u come over?
Ben: No
Matt: U off team for good?
Ben: TBD
Matt: ???
Ben: To be determined.
Matt: Call whenever.
Ben: Dad doesn’t want me talking to you right now.
Matt: U gotta play playoffs.
Ben: Right now gotta bounce.
The Cubs, the only team to have beaten the Astros, ended up in fourth place, so the Astros would play them in one semifinal game. The other semi would be between the Glenallen Giants, Joey the big-mouth catcher’s team, and the Mariners.
The Astros had beaten the Cubs in the teams’ second meeting of the season, but Andrew Welles, their star, hadn’t pitched that game. They would be facing him on Tuesday night.
“That guy Andrew is a beast,” José said to Matt on practice Monday night.
“So are we,” Matt said. “What’s the Spanish word for beast?”
“Bestia.”
“Perfect way to describe us,” Matt said. “The word even has ‘best’ in it.”
“We need to be the best bestia in the league for two more games,” José said.
His face turned serious, and so did his tone.
“Can we do that without Ben being dangerous in the middle of our order?” he said.
“I keep telling myself there’s no way his dad won’t let him play the playoffs,” Matt said.
“It’s like you said,” José told Matt. “His dad is hurting and now Ben is the one getting hurt.”
By now Matt had filled José in on what was going on at Ben’s house. He knew José well enough to know he wouldn’t tell anybody else, after Matt made him promise not to. And Matt just wanted to talk about Ben’s situation with somebody other than his mom. It’s what friends did. They tried to help each other figure things out, even though Matt wasn’t doing much good in that area for Big Ben.
It was their normal practice that night, just without the occasional long ball from Ben. Matt’s mom worked with the infielders, as always, and was as enthusiastic with them as if this was the first day of practice for All-Stars after the team had been set. The only difference between tonight and that night was that Chris Conte was at first base, not Ben Roberson.
After Sarge finished pitching batting practice tonight, the guys started to pack up. But then Sarge told them there was one more hitter.
“Sarge,” Matt said, “we all hit.”
Sarge grinned.
“Yeah,” he said. “But she hasn’t hit yet.”
He was pointing at Matt’s mom.
“We saw what you had when you pitched against one of my guys,” Sarge said. “You want to show what you got against me?”
Matt’s mom didn’t hesitate. She walked calmly over to the bench, grabbed Matt’s batting helmet and his bat, and started walking toward the plate, taking quick cuts with Matt’s bat as she did.
When she got into the batter’s box she said, “Not afraid to get shown up by a girl?”
“I’m man enough to risk it,” Sarge said.
She pointed the bat at him, and tried to look menacing, which Matt knew was pretty much impossible for his mom.
“Don’t you go easy on me,” she said.
“Didn’t even cross my mind,” Sarge said.
Matt watched his mom step out and take a few more practice swings, as Stone Russell, who’d quickly put his chest protector and mask back on, got behind the plate. Then she took her stance. Matt smiled. It looked exactly like his stance.
Sarge threw a pitch away. She let it go. The ball hadn’t missed being a strike by much. Just enough.
“You trying to get me to chase,” she called out to Sarge as Stone threw the ball back to him.
“Just establishing what you think is a strike,” he said.
“When it’s a strike,” she said, “I’ll let you know.”
She did on the very next pitch. The ball was at her knees. Matt thought it would have definitely caught the outside corner, which is where Stone had set up. The ball never got to his mitt. Matt’s mom went with the pitch, and got herself a clear, solid knock to right field.
Matt’s mom couldn’t help herself. She started running to first base as soon as she dropped the bat.
Halfway down the line, she stopped.
“Old habits,” she said.
“Oldies but goodies,” Sarge said.
“Like us,” Matt’s mom said.
When everyone else was gone, Matt and his mom and Sarge sat on the Astros bench and talked about Ben.
“I love that kid,” Sarge said, “which is just one more reason why I hate to see what he’s going through.”
“I still can’t believe he won’t let him come back and play,” Matt’s mom said.
“He’s pretty stubborn,” Sarge said.
He was rolling a baseball around in his hands. Once practice started, Sarge always seemed to have a ball in his hand.
“Not as stubborn as I am,” Matt’s mom said.
“Now that you told me what happened,” Sarge said, “I can’t believe he’s going to ruin the boy’s summer over that. And I can’t just sit by and let him ruin the boy’
s summer over that.”
He stood up.
“I’m gonna head over and have a talk with him, whether he wants to or not,” Sarge said.
Matt’s mom stood too. She reached over, took the ball out of Sarge’s hand, rubbed it up, handed it back to him.
“I’ll go,” she said.
“Not your job,” Sarge said.
“Maybe it is,” she said. “Maybe it’s time Bob and I had a man-to-man talk.”
She smiled.
“Or mom-to-man,” Matt said.
“Either way,” she said.
THIRTY-EIGHT
They didn’t even stop home to change out of their baseball gear. They went straight to the Robersons’ house. Matt’s mom said this couldn’t wait.
“You told me to wait,” Matt said.
“I was wrong,” she said, then smiled and shrugged. “Happens from time to time. I should have gone over there as soon as Ben missed his first practice.”
“I’m glad you’re letting me come, too,” Matt said.
“We’re a team, remember?”
Matt said, “Now we have to get Ben back on it.”
They made the turn on Lenox Avenue, and pulled up in front of the house.
“You know,” she said, “this all kind of started when I benched Ben that night. All I’m trying to do now is un-bench him.”
They saw Mr. Roberson’s car in the driveway. So he was home. As they walked up the front walk, Matt felt a little bit like he was walking up to home plate.
His mom rang the bell. Mr. Roberson must have either heard them pull up, or seen them walking toward the door, because he opened it right away.
It was open just enough that Matt could see Ben standing halfway down the stairs behind his dad.
“I have to tell you,” Mr. Roberson said, “that I don’t appreciate you coming over here without calling first. Apparently it’s a thing in your family.”
“We need to talk, Bob,” Matt’s mom said.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Dad,” Ben said.
Mr. Roberson didn’t even turn around.
“Go back to your room, Ben,” he said. “This doesn’t involve you.”
“Yes,” Matt’s mom said, “it does.”
They all stood there, like they were frozen in place. Ben was still halfway down the stairs. His dad was in the doorway, hand on the knob. Matt and his mom were on the front porch.
No one said anything until Matt’s mom spoke again.
“You’re acting like an idiot, Bob,” she said. “Now please let us come inside so we can talk about this.”
To Matt’s amazement, that is exactly what Mr. Roberson did.
THIRTY-NINE
Mr. Roberson didn’t offer them anything to drink. Matt and his mom, and Ben, just followed him into the living room. From a television in another room, Matt could hear the sound of a baseball game.
Ben and his dad sat on the couch. Matt and his mom sat in chairs across from them, with an old wood coffee table in between them. And maybe about a thousand miles.
“I have to say again,” Ben’s dad said, “I still don’t appreciate you just showing up this way. How would you feel if I came to your house unannounced?”
“If it was important, and it was about my son,” she said, “I’d thank you.”
“I’m raising my son,” he said. “You raise yours. I believe that’s the way it still works.”
“Oh, please!” Rachel Baker said. “I wish it were that easy. Maybe you haven’t heard, but these days it takes a village.”
“What does that even mean?” Ben’s dad said.
“It means,” she said, “that we’re all in this together where our children are concerned.”
She smiled at him, the best one she had.
“Why exactly did you ground Ben?” she said. “I’m curious.”
“That really is between Ben and me.”
“Oh come on, Dad!” Ben said. “You grounded me because I rode off on my bike with Matt that day.”
“It was just a part of it,” Mr. Roberson said.
“B-b-b . . .”
“But.” Matt wanted to start with that.
Come on, loser!
He knew Ms. Francis hated it when he called himself a loser. But he felt like one now.
Don’t stop there.
“B-but that makes me a part of it,” Matt said.
“Matt’s right,” his mom said. “We’re all a part of this. And why all of us need to find a way to get past this.”
“I told my son to stay,” Ben’s dad said. “He chose to leave. I’m his father. I can’t have him disobeying me that way.” He leaned forward and looked at Matt’s mom then and said, “You can at least understand that, right?”
“What I understand, Bob,” she said, still smiling at him, “is that you need to lighten up.”
“I’m his father!”
Matt’s mom leaned forward now, and her voice was as soft as his had been loud.
“Then start acting like one,” she said.
Mr. Roberson started to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. He took a deep breath instead, and slowly let it out.
Like one of my exercises, Matt thought.
It was Ben who spoke next.
“Dad,” he said, “please listen to her.”
“Whose side are you on?” his dad said.
“We’re all on Ben’s side,” Matt’s mom said.
“Oh, I get it,” Mr. Roberson said. “You’re going to teach me about parenting the way you think you can teach my son how to hit a baseball.”
“No,” she said. “I know how hard it is to be a parent. And I know how hard it is to be a single parent, because I learned that myself. The hard way. It’s what you’re experiencing right now. But I’ve learned something along the way, and it’s something I tell my own son all the time.”
“What’s that?” Mr. Roberson said.
“That there’s no shame in asking for help,” she said.
“But I didn’t ask for your help,” he said.
“It doesn’t mean I can’t offer it,” she said.
Matt saw Mr. Roberson’s face getting red. He could see how tightly he was gripping his knees with his big hands.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” he said.
“But that’s the thing,” she said. “I do.”
Mr. Roberson turned and nodded at Ben. “If I don’t let him know that actions have consequences,” he said, “then I’m not doing my job.”
“But what about your actions, Dad?” Ben said.
“I-I-I . . .”
Suddenly it was Mr. Roberson who was stammering. He either didn’t know what words to say—or couldn’t say them.
Know the feeling, Matt thought.
“I can help,” Matt’s mom said. “We all can.”
“It’s not the way I was raised,” Ben’s dad said. “To ask for help.”
“I know,” Matt’s mom said.
She stood. So did Matt.
“Please think about what was said here tonight,” she said. “And think about what’s best for your boy.”
Before Mr. Roberson could answer, she said, “We’ll show ourselves out.”
Matt looked at Ben, who looked as if he wanted to leave with them, the way he’d left with Matt a few days ago.
At the doorway to the living room, Matt’s mom turned around and said something Matt had heard her say plenty of times before.
“The games aren’t about us, Bob,” she said. “Let the boy play.”
Then they left.
FORTY
The game with the Cubs was scheduled for six-thirty at Healy Park.
Waiting for a night game was always hard, especially when it was the biggest game of the year. It was just much worse today, because there had been what his mom called “radio silence” from Ben since last night.
His mom was working from home today. She was at her desk, in the small den off the kitchen she
’d converted into an office. José was on his way over, and he and Matt were going into town to have lunch, just as a way of killing time before their game against the Cubs.
“I’ll tell you again what I’ve been telling you since we got home last night,” she said. “As often as the world disappoints me, I still expect that people will choose to do the right thing.”
“But you said yourself that Ben’s dad has put himself in a bad place,” Matt said.
“Correct,” she said. “But if he’s being honest with himself, he knows that whatever crime he thinks Ben committed by showing him up, this punishment doesn’t fit that crime. But all parents put themselves into that bad place from time to time, when they overreact.”
Matt grinned.
“When I was little,” he said, “it would start with a time-out and end up with me losing my television privileges.”
She laughed. “And all other privileges!” she said. “You’re right. I think that’s what’s happening here. What should have been a simple time-out turned into this. The problem is, we’re now about to run out of time.”
They heard the doorbell.
“Go have lunch,” she said.
Matt and José rode their bikes into town, had sandwiches at the Candy Kitchen, and then walked around, trying to kill more of the time running out for Ben Roberson.
There was a moment, at the corner of Elm and Main, when Matt thought he saw Ben coming, but it wasn’t him.
Around four o’clock, José rode his bike home. Matt did the same. They agreed to meet at Healey no later than five, because Matt knew he wouldn’t be able to stay at home any longer than that, not just waiting for the game, but worrying about Ben.
There was no longer any doubt about the friendship he and Ben had formed. It was the strangest part of this, Matt thought: He’d worked so hard to gain a friend, and now he’d lost a teammate.
“He’ll either be here or he won’t,” Matt’s mom said when they got to the field. “We did everything we could.”
Before too long, Sarge and the rest of his teammates were there. By five-thirty, the Cubs players were over on their side of the field. Matt told himself it was time to start focusing on their opponents, and not Ben, even though he couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like if someone had taken baseball away from him.
