Prime Time Pitcher (8 page)

With that, he took off his glove and returned to the house. Koby started after him, then saw that the camera was still on.
So instead, he picked up the ball that had rolled out of Chuck’s glove and tossed it up in the air a few times. He cracked
a weak smile and said, “Just practicing fielding pop flies.”

But after a few more tosses, Buck clicked the camera off and signaled to Dan that they were done for the day.

Monticello Middle School

June 3

by Sara Wilson

You’ve probably all heard by now that our flying-high Cardinals took a bit of a nosedive in their rematch against the Greenview
Green Jackets. Pitcher Koby Caplin slipped, allowing four hits and an unusual number of balls. The Green Jackets walked away
from Cain Park Field with a solid 3-1 victory.

This defeat doesn’t hurt the Cardinals, as they maintain their one game lead over the Danville Mudcats, but it does bruise
the team ego.

But here’s an alarming bit of information a
secret source passed on to me. According to my informant, at least one error—an error that eventually led to a run being scored,
mind you — might have been avoided. It seems our own TV celebrity, Koby Caplin, refused to throw the pitches his battery mate,
Tug McCue, signaled for. In fact, he started choosing his own pitches. Would Tug have been able to nab the strike that got
by him if he’d known what to look for? No one will ever know … but in the meantime, the Cardinals chalked up their first loss.

Ah, well. We can only hope that Koby will remember what teamwork is before the game against Runkle. (But maybe he’s lost himself
to stardom completely?)

Miguel Sanchez will be on the mound for Monticello versus the Erieview Jethawks, so be there if you can to cheer him on!

Koby’s heart sank as he read Sara’s article. He was glad Dan and Buck weren’t around with the camera. He wasn’t sure he could
control the panicked look on his face.

How could she have written that about me? he wondered. And how did she learn about the signals? There’s only one person who
could have told her, he figured: Tug.

Koby recalled seeing the two of them with their heads together right after the Greenview game. He flushed — but whether from
a sense of betrayal or guilt at having been found out, he didn’t ask himself. All he knew was that he had to find Sara and
hear for himself that Tug had been the source.

But when he tracked Sara down just before lunch, she was tight-lipped.

“My source asked not to be identified” was all she would say. “But I will tell you this. It wasn’t who you think. It wasn’t
Tug.”

Koby snorted. “Oh, come off it, Sara. Stop trying to make the Cardinals into some kind of mystery, with villains and heroes
and intrigue, just so people will keep reading the
Megaphone.
I thought you were a better reporter than that.”

Sara’s eyes blazed. “Seems to me you didn’t question my reporting abilities when I had nice things to say about you,” she
retorted. “Funny how I don’t hear you denying that your actions led to Tug’s error and a run for the opposite team. Tell me,
Koby, would you be confronting me if, instead of fingering you as the problem, I’d said it was Tug? Would you have come here
and defended him by admitting that it might have been your fault?”

Koby was silent.

“I thought so. And as for revealing my source, forget it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to lunch. Although my appetite
isn’t what it was a few minutes ago.” She pushed by him and stalked into the cafeteria.

Koby had no choice but to follow her. He picked up a tray and loaded it down with food, then headed for his usual table, where
Tug, K.O., Scoop, and Prez were already sitting. On the table in front of them was a copy of the
Megaphone.

Nobody moved when he tried to squeeze in.

“Hey, you guys, can you make some room?” Koby asked.

Scoop, K.O., and Prez gave him hostile glares in
response. Tug didn’t even look up. Then Prez said, “This table’s reserved for
team
players. No room for hotshots who gamble with the team’s record for personal glory.”

Koby flushed. “Fine, I’ll go somewhere else. But before I do — Tug, can I ask you something?”

Tug stared at his tray and said, “Yeah, what is it?”

“Sara said you weren’t the one who told her about my calling my own pitches. Is that right?”

Tug’s head snapped up. “If that’s what she told you, why would you think she was lying? Jeez, Koby, you’re really turning
into a jerk, you know that?”

Now it was Koby’s turn to stare at his tray. He knew Tug was right, that he was accusing Sara of being deceitful. But Tug
still hadn’t answered his question. And despite what Sara had said, Koby needed to hear it from Tug himself.

Tug seemed to realize this, too. He blew out his breath and said, “We’ve always had great teamwork, but now, just because
of that stupid TV show, you decide you don’t need me.” Tug shook his head. “The difference between you and me, Koby, is that
I still believe our pitcher-catcher relationship can
work. I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up. And that includes going to the
Megaphone
behind your back! So I guess you’ll just have to keep looking for the ‘secret source,’ ‘cuz you ain’t lookin’ at him right
now.”

With that, Tug picked up his tray and left the table. Scoop, Prez, and K.O. followed, leaving Koby to sit alone and eat his
cold lunch.

Practice was awful for Koby. No one talked to him except to warn him when a ball was coming his way. When it was over, he
walked home by himself, miserable.

After his shower, he got a piece of news that brightened him up a bit. His mother told him that Dan had called from the station.
“He said if you want to come down to look at the film footage Buck’s taken already, you’re welcome to. Sounds like that could
be interesting.”

Chuck looked up from the table where he’d been reading the newspaper. “It does sound interesting,” he said. “In fact, I’d
like to tag along if that’s OK with you.”

Koby nodded happily. He called Dan back to say they were on their way.

Fifteen minutes later, Koby, Buck, Dan, and Chuck were gathered around a TV monitor. Buck loaded in a cassette and started
the machine running.

Clip after clip of Koby danced by on the screen. But after the first minute, Koby barely even looked at himself. He was too
busy listening to what he had said. And what he heard caused him to shrink into his seat.

“ ‘Thanks to pitches like that, Monticello should win the Meadowbrook Conference.…’ ”

“ ‘But what about me? I didn’t finish what I had to say about Chuck’s influence on me….’ ”

“ ‘The team just needed a superstar like me to light a fire under them….’ ”

When the video ended, Koby couldn’t look at any of the others. Chuck broke the silence.

“Well, that sure is something.”

Koby finally looked up. His voice was thick. “I didn’t know I’d been such a jerk. No wonder Tug and Sara hate me. And now
the team does, too.”

Chuck put his arm around Koby’s shoulder and gave him a squeeze. “Koby, I know you feel lousy
right now. And you should. But it’s not too late to make things right. Is it, Dan?”

Koby looked at Dan hopefully.

Dan nodded. “I think we can work on it.” Koby’s face brightened. “No promises, though,” Dan added. “We’re under a tight schedule.
Anything we do will have to be done quickly. We’ll have to use some of this footage. Otherwise, we won’t have enough to fill
the whole documentary.”

“But what if we made some new footage?” Koby asked.

Dan drummed his fingers on the table. “We’ll be shooting the game against Runkle, but that’s cutting it pretty close. We’ll
try, though, but like I said: No promises.”

T
he atmosphere in the locker room was charged up before the game against Runkle.

Koby sat alone on the bench in front of his locker. He pounded the pocket in his mitt as he looked down at the floor.

I’ll just show these guys on the field what I’m made of, he said to himself.

“OK, men, listen up!” Coach Tomashiro said as he gathered his troops.

Koby found a space at the edge of the circle.

“Win or lose, we can all hold our heads up high when the season ends this afternoon. A win over the Firebirds, as you know,
will clinch the Meadowbrook Conference title, something we haven’t accomplished in many years. Yeah, a conference
championship award would look mighty fine in our trophy case. But you know what I think will look — and feel — even better
is if you play your hearts out! That’s something you can always carry with you. So come on, everyone put your hands in the
middle….”

Each member of the team put a hand on top of the next guy’s. “GO, CARDINALS!”

“EEEEOOOOO!” the team yelled and jumped as they ran behind the coach.

“Cardinals! Cardinals!” The full house exploded with chants as they spotted the team trotting onto the field. “We’re number
one! We’re number one!”

It was an SRO crowd again.

Koby caught up with Tug. “Hey, Tug, want to warm up?”

Tug didn’t say anything at first. He looked around the field and saw that Coach Tomashiro was staring right at him.

“Yeah, sure, Koby. Um, uh, I’ve got to get the Hummer first. I’ll meet you over at the backstop.”

As Tug walked off, Koby approached Coach Tomashiro. “Coach? Uh, I want you to know that
I’m sorry about the way I’ve been acting lately. I’ve been a real loser. I’m kind of surprised you even kept me on the mound.
I know how strongly you feel about ‘prized bears.’ ”

Coach Tomashiro regarded Koby silently for a moment, then laid a hand on his shoulder. “Koby, I was against doing this TV
show from the beginning, even though I knew it could help bring fans to the stands. But I wanted to put a stop to the whole
thing when I saw what it was turning you into. I kept my mouth shut, though, because I needed to know you could find your
way back by yourself. I’m very glad you did.”

“Thanks, Coach,” Koby said with a small smile. Coach T. returned the smile, then sent Koby over to the backstop, where Tug
was waiting.

“Ready to catch some pitches, Tug?”

“We’ve got to get ready for the game, don’t we?” Tug said matter-of-factly.

Koby threw his routine of warm-up pitches.

And Tug caught them.

In dead silence.

When the umpire called for the game to begin,
Koby couldn’t let the silence continue. He had to say at least one thing to Tug.

“You signal; I’ll throw,” he said simply.

Tug glanced at him and, after a beat, nodded slowly.

“OK, team, everyone on the bench!” Coach Tomashiro yelled. “Everyone’s hands in the middle for the last time this season!”
he said as he looked every player in the eye. “Together: GO, CARDINALS!”

“GO, CARDINALS!” the team yelled.

“Now, get to your positions! The game is going to start.”

“PLAY BALL!” the umpire roared.

Koby trotted to the pitcher’s mound and stooped to pick up the rosin. He scanned the crowd and saw Sara, his parents, and
his teachers sitting nearby. He spotted Dan and Buck, too. Buck’s camera was at his shoulder, ready to capture the action.

OK, this is your chance to make things right, Koby reminded himself.

Koby had to battle not only the Runkle School artillery but ninety-degree heat as well. He went
into his trademark high-kick windup and unleashed a sizzling fastball high and outside to the first Firebird at the plate.
The crowd rallied behind the first pitch.

“Ball one!” shouted the umpire.

Koby’s teammates were silent behind him. “Hey, this isn’t a funeral, you guys! Talk it up!” yelled Coach Tomashiro.

The defense perked up. But knowing they were cheering for him only because the coach had ordered them to made Koby feel awful.
He suddenly realized how much he depended on their support.

He walked the batter on four straight pitches.

The next batter sliced Koby’s fastball up the middle. Sandy dove to his right, but the ball beat his outstretched hand.

The Firebird fans went wild.

Runners at first and second. Sweat poured from Koby’s forehead as he rubbed his face on his sleeve.

He threw his next pitch into the dirt. Tug managed to recover it, then asked for time and walked the ball to the mound.

Tug handed the ball to Koby and said,
“Remember, this is for the team championship of the conference.”

Koby said in a soft voice, “I know. Believe me, Tug, I know.” He caught Tug’s eyes for an instant. He wasn’t sure, but he
thought he saw a spark of their former friendship light up in them. Then Tug turned his back and headed for home plate.

With renewed intensity, Koby buckled down, but he couldn’t find the strike zone. Working to a 3 and 1 count, the batter took
his chances and watched the next pitch go by for ball four.

The Cardinals fans were silenced, and Koby’s teammates were stunned.

Suddenly a voice called out. “C’mon, Kobe! You can do it!” It was Tug.

Scoop’s big voice followed moments later. “Come on, Kobe! You got what it takes!”

“You got it, man!” Billy added. “This is Cardinals ball we’re playing!”

The rest of the team joined in the chatter.

With bases loaded, the Firebird batter was looking at a chance to score some runs.

Koby dug his cleat into the dirt and kicked at the
pitcher’s mound. Taking a deep breath, he bore down and threw a smoker.

Phwap!

The Hummer hugged the ball as the batter got nothing but air.