Rivals (2010) (2 page)

“HE CAN’T DO THAT,”
Benji said, slapping his hand on the table so that the silverware jangled and the ice in their water glasses danced.

“Not legally,” Jaden said. “But how do you prove it? It’s up to the umpire’s discretion to call it. If the ump just says it’s a wild pitch, there’s not much you can do. The Nighthawks probably know that if Josh stays on pace and they want to win, they’ll have to get him out of the game.”

“We’ve got to tell your dad,” Benji said to Josh.

Josh shook his head. “And look like I’m scared of some kid’s fastball? I know just what my dad’s going to say to that. ‘Step up to the plate and act like a man.’ That’s my dad.”

“Not if he knew the guy was going to try to hurt
you,” Jaden said. “Your dad’s tough, but he’s not ice-cold.”

Josh held up his hand, signaling them to stop. “I’m
not
saying anything to my dad. Now I know it’s coming, I can just keep an eye out and duck if he throws for my head.”

Benji whistled low and raised his menu again. “I don’t know. Seventy-five miles an hour.”

The waitress arrived. They had breakfast and joined the rest of the team milling toward the bus. Coach Moose, a thick-necked middle school gym teacher who worked as his father’s assistant, stopped Josh before he got on and said, “Josh, will you go tell your dad I got everyone here. I told him nine, but the bus driver says there’s some parade we’ve got to go around, and it’ll take us longer than we thought.”

“Sure,” Josh said. He headed through the lobby and up the elevator to the room where his mom and dad were staying with his baby sister, Laurel.

As he turned the corner, he stopped at the sound of his parents arguing inside the room. A suitcase held the door open. In the background, his little sister babbled to herself. Josh backed against the wall, out of sight, and listened.

“Stop saying ‘It’s only a game,’” Josh’s father said.

“How is it more than that, Gary?” his mother said. “How? You keep talking about Nike, but you’ve got a contract with them and you’re doing fine.”

Josh knew his dad’s feelings about the Nike contract were as delicate as they were special. Coach Valentine lost the U14 Titans’ sponsorship after the steroid scandal. Josh had heard jealous whispers about his father having had something to do with the steroids as well—a complete lie—and even that he orchestrated the old coach’s demise so that he could grab the esteemed and valuable Nike deal.

“Because ‘fine’ doesn’t mean anything,” his father said. “Everyone’s cutting back—Nike, too—and if they do, who knows what happens to the Titans? But if we win today, we qualify for the Hall of Fame National Championship Tournament. It’s the biggest thing in Little League Baseball these days, and whoever wins
that
gets a guaranteed five-year deal.
That’s
security, Laura, something I never had as a player. Something I want. Look at the house we live in. Drafts coming through the walls all winter. Plumbing going bad every other week. A doggone leak in the roof! I’d like to get us into something better before the place falls in on us, so stop saying it’s only a game. It’s not. This is our life we’re talking about here.”

“I just don’t want Josh to feel that kind of pressure,” his mom said, her voice softening.

“And I’d never do that,” his father said, quieter now too. “And he won’t. I’m not saying anything to him about it and I know you won’t, so we’re fine. To him, it
is
only a game.”

Josh listened for a minute, thinking about his father’s words and how he wished he hadn’t heard them at all. Knowing how much was at stake made the sinking feeling of dread even worse. His mother muttered something he couldn’t hear and his father answered in the same quiet tone before Josh heard him moving toward the door.

Josh backed up and then started walking again as though he’d just arrived.

“Hey Dad,” he said, meeting him in the doorway and trying to read his mom’s face from the corner of his eye. “Coach Moose says the bus has to leave now, something about a parade.”

“Okay, grab that suitcase for your mom, will you, Josh?”

Josh did, and they loaded up his mom and sister before he and his dad stepped up onto the bus.

Jaden sat across the aisle from him, and after they were under way she leaned over and asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Josh said. “We have to win this thing, that’s all.”

“I don’t know if you should put that kind of pressure on yourself, Josh,” Jaden said.

“Why not?”

“Well,” Jaden said, tapping her pen against the cover of her notepad, “I just think you play better when you’re relaxed. Just go out there and play.”

“I play the same no matter what,” Josh said, angry because he knew it wasn’t true.

“Okay,” she said, “all I’m saying is that if you don’t win this, it isn’t going to ruin your life or anything.”

Josh looked at her for a moment, then said, “That’s where you’re wrong.”

GRAY COTTON CANDY CLOUDS
hung from the sky, but the forecast didn’t call for any rain and the temperature was in the low seventies. The Titans took the field for warm-ups and Josh studied the Nighthawks players in their dugout, wondering which one was Planczeck. He looked over at Jaden, who sat in the deep corner of their dugout with her notepad out, and gave her a questioning look. She just shrugged and shook her head. When an easy grounder came his way, Josh fumbled it and had to reach between his legs to get a hold before throwing wild to first. The first baseman missed it, and the ball hit the fence beyond the foul line.

“LeBlanc!” his father barked from the fence by the batter’s circle. “Come on now, get your head into it!”

Josh winced and focused on the balls Coach Moose
peppered at them from behind the plate. The stands began to fill with parents, supporters, and just baseball fans who wanted to see what two of the top U12 Little League travel teams in the country looked like.

After “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the Nighthawks took the field. Even after a short, stocky boy built like a fireplug headed for the mound chomping on a fat wad of bubble gum, Josh searched the Nighthawks dugout for the pitcher named Sandy Planczeck.

When the boy stepped up and began throwing warm-up pitches, Josh looked at Coach Moose, thinking about the prospect of a beanball, and asked, “Is
that
Planczeck?”

Moose glanced at him and said, “Yeah, you heard about his fastball?”

Josh swallowed at the sound of the ball smacking the catcher’s mitt like a gunshot. The ball was a blur.

“I heard some things,” Josh said, picking out the batting helmet he liked best and stepping aside for the three batters in front of him. Josh couldn’t take his eyes off Planczeck’s face, unable to decipher the pitcher’s blank expression beneath the thatch of dirty blond hair poking out from under his red cap as his jaw worked steadily at the gum.

Since he batted cleanup, Josh never got the chance to swing. Planczeck put the top of the lineup down with just fourteen pitches, using a short, spring-loaded windup that somehow resulted in a fastball rarely seen
at the U12 level. The Titans took their turn in the field. Their own top pitcher, Kerry Eschelman, gave up two hits but got out of the inning without a run after Josh scooped up a burner and the Titans made a double play.

His first time, Josh felt sweat greasing the bat handle beneath his grip. The first pitch came right down the middle and Josh didn’t even get to swing.

“Strike!”

The second pitch came. Josh read it the instant it left Planczeck’s hand: a ball—high, fast, and way inside. Josh fell back from the plate to avoid being hit but stumbled and went down on his butt. His helmet skittered across the dirt and his face went on fire with embarrassment when someone in the stands laughed out loud. From the dugout, Josh’s father shook his head.

Josh got to his feet and stepped into the box. The third pitch came—nothing but heat down the middle, which confused Josh since he expected another potential beanball.

“Strike two!”

“Come on, Josh! You can hit this guy!” Josh’s father yelled. “Swing! Don’t just watch it!”

Josh stepped out of the box and wedged his helmet down tight. If Planczeck was going to try to bean him, there was nothing Josh could do. He’d have to hope his vision could get him out of the way quickly enough. He
gritted his teeth and stepped in, ignoring Planczeck’s blank stare and focusing instead on his hand and seeing the ball as it left the pitcher’s fingertips. Curve, too far outside to be a strike. He let it go.

“Ball.”

Josh stepped away from the 2–2 count, swung a couple times, then got back into the box, focusing on Planczeck’s release. Another fastball.

Josh saw the line, a little high and a little outside, but still a strike.

He felt the grin infecting his face and swung big.

THE BAT CRACKED AND
the ball took off, clearing the fence by a mile, bouncing off the road beyond the field and rolling down the grassy bank on its way to the Genesee River below. The Titans fans and bench erupted.

Josh jogged around the bases, relieved, but unable to get Jaden’s warning and the inside pitch out of his mind, and unable to keep from meeting Planczeck’s eyes as he crossed the plate under the gaze of the pitcher’s gum-chomping blank stare.

Esch began to wear down, but—led by Josh—the Titans played great defense and kept the score close enough so that by the beginning of the sixth, it was tied at four, with Josh having hit three home runs. While the Titans had to switch to another pitcher, Planczeck never seemed to fade. If Jaden
was
right and Planczeck
really did plan to do what his girlfriend claimed, then now would be the time for a beanball. But, beanball or no beanball, Josh prayed he’d get another chance at bat. Anything to get them to the big Hall of Fame Tournament. But for him to even get the chance, they had to finish out their order with Benji, and then the first three batters before Josh. Somehow, two of the four would have to get on base.

Benji made the sign of the cross and stepped up to the plate. The first pitch came right at him, nailing him in the leg and dropping Benji like a sack of potatoes. Moose ran out and helped Benji to his feet. He limped down the line to first base, waving dramatically to the clapping crowd, his face a mask of agony. The next two batters struck out quick, but each one got an errant pitch that left Josh feeling certain that Planczeck was setting the stage for a beanball, getting the ump used to an occasional wild pitch to make it look unintentional. When Esch stepped up to the plate, everyone, including Esch, was surprised when he actually hit the ball, driving it through the opening between first and second.

Josh clapped and tightened his batting glove down before starting for the plate with two runners on base and two outs.

“Hang on,” Josh’s father said, gripping his shoulder and nodding toward the Nighthawks’ dugout.

The Nighthawks coach had gone out to the mound. The coach talked with Planczeck before glancing over
at Josh, whispering one more thing and then returning to his bench.

“They’re going to walk you intentionally,” Josh’s father said, making a face. “The coach is calling for a ball. Nothing we can do about it.”

“That’s garbage,” Josh said. If Planczeck gave him the opportunity, Josh could put the game out of reach, driving in two runs as well as scoring himself and giving the Titans a lead the Nighthawks couldn’t likely recover from.

“You with three home runs already?” his father said, raising his eyebrows. “I can’t say I wouldn’t do it if I were them.”

“Can I chase it?” Josh asked, imagining himself jumping forward and reaching for a really wide outside pitch.

His dad clamped his lips shut, then said, “You know what? Do that. Make him throw that sucker so far outside the catcher can’t get it. I’ll give the sign for Benji and Esch to steal.”

Josh grinned and stepped up to the plate. He’d never seen anyone jump out at an intentional ball, but he’d heard of it happening, and if it could be done by anyone, he knew it was him. He stepped up and shared his grin with Planczeck, ready to go and concentrating hard on the pitcher’s hand.

In the instant before the release of the ball, Josh sensed something wrong. As it left Planczeck’s hand,
Jaden’s words blasted fresh through his mind, mixing with disbelief. He’d been thinking fastball, high, but the laces told him curve. Josh hesitated for a fraction of a second, and it was too long. The pitch struck him in the face. Josh saw stars and felt his body spin for just a split second before everything went fuzzy.

JOSH SMELLED GRASS AND
hot dogs and he thought about eating one. Someone shook him.

“Josh! Josh! Everyone get back!”

Josh blinked and saw his dad blocking out the sky.

“Are you okay, Son? Do you hear me?”

Josh nodded slowly, the pain in his face and head making him wince. He didn’t want to talk. He heard Jaden’s voice laced with panic, telling people to get out of her way, and then her face appeared beside his father’s. Something tickled Josh’s upper lip and he wiped it and came away with a bright smear of blood.

“Oh my,” Jaden said.

Josh saw the questioning look on his father’s face. It was a look Josh wanted to obliterate. It wasn’t a look of disgust or shame but of wonder, maybe even doubt
about just what kind of a man Josh would become. Josh had heard the story several times from his father’s teammates about him taking a novocaine shot directly into his shoulder joint so he could pitch in a double-A championship game.

Josh struggled upright and tried to stand.

“Whoa,” Coach Moose said, gripping his arm.

Josh pushed him away and said, “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” Jaden said.

“It’s just a bloody nose,” Josh said, even though it felt like a knife was sticking into the back of his eyeball.

He reached for his bat. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” the ump said, “take your base.”

Jaden pointed at Planczeck and shouted, “He did it on purpose! That was a beanball! His girlfriend told me about it yesterday. She’s right over there.”

“Take his base and that guy’s out of the game,” Josh’s father said, pointing at Planczeck.

The umpire was a short, chubby man with a round, red face. He frowned from behind his mask, shrugged, and said, “A wild pitch, Coach.”

“That’s the second man he’s hit in four batters, and it was intentional,” Josh’s dad said. “She said it.”

“She? Who’s
she
?” the ump said, casting Jaden a nasty look. “Pitchers don’t get sat down unless they hit three batters, Coach.”

“That’s if he’s not
trying
to hit them,” his dad said. “That’s your call. Use your judgment.”

“I am using my judgment, Coach,” the ump said. “And if you don’t get out of my face, I’m tossing you out of the park.”

“That’s
terrible
,” Jaden said.

“That’s it,” the ump said, stabbing the air with his thumb. “You’re out of here, young lady.”

“She’s a reporter,” Josh’s dad said.

“I don’t care who she is,” the ump said. “Out of the park. If you don’t leave, I’m stopping the game.”

Jaden’s face went pale and she turned to go.

“What about you, Coach?” the ump asked, adjusting the metal cage of his mask.

Josh’s dad’s face turned purple and he clenched his meaty fists. The ump swallowed and stepped back, but Josh’s dad just turned and stamped away.

“Let’s go,” the ump said with a growl. “Clear the field. Take your base. Play ball. Son, I said, ‘Take your base.’”

Josh stood holding his bat. Blood drizzled down the back of his throat, but he swallowed it so no one would know. “I don’t have to, do I?”

“It’s a free base,” the ump said.

“I can still hit, though, can’t I?”

Josh’s father spun around and came back.

“Coach, you want him to advance, right?” the ump said.

“Josh,” his father said, taking Josh’s shoulders gently in his big hands. “Your eye is almost swollen shut. You’ve got a whopper. You should take the base.”

Josh felt tears welling up in his good eye. His father
was giving him an easy way out. The smaller part of him wanted to take the base. They’d lose, and the toughest tournament in the country would pass them by. No Cooperstown—Josh and the Titans could spend the rest of the summer romping over lesser opponents. No pressure. No lead in his gut, weighing him down. Only sunshine and grand-slam home runs.

It felt like someone had driven a tent stake through his cheek, but he shook his head. “If I don’t hit this, we’re not going to win, Dad. I need to knock it out of here. I don’t, and we don’t get to Cooperstown. The best of the best. I heard you say it.”

Josh’s dad glanced up into the stands in the direction of his mom, then he bit into his lower lip, turned to the ump, and said, “Okay. Let him hit.”

“Coach, it’s—”

“He’s
entitled
to advance to first,” Josh’s father said. “He doesn’t
have
to. I know the rules. Section 6.08 (b). Why don’t you read it?”

Obviously flustered, the umpire pulled the rule book out of his back pocket and began to flip through the pages.

“What’s going on?” the Nighthawks coach asked, emerging from his dugout.

Josh’s dad wheeled on him with clenched fists and a furious look on his face. “Josh isn’t taking the base. He’s entitled to it but not compelled. Even though your pitcher tried to knock him out of the game with your dirty tricks.”

“Hey, easy, Coach, it was a wild pitch,” the other coach said.

“Don’t ‘easy’ me,” Josh’s dad growled, looming over the much smaller man. “I won’t even say what ought to happen to you, but know this: Your pitcher has already hit two batters, and if he hits another, he’s finished. So you just tell him to throw it in there and see if he can strike my kid out.”

“He’s right,” the ump said, showing the other coach the rule book.

“Maybe play some baseball, Coach,” Josh’s father said as he stalked away, “and let’s see who wins.”

The ump shrugged. Josh wiped his good eye and stepped up to the other side of the plate, switching to lefty since he could only see now out of his right eye. Everyone cleared the infield and Planczeck stared at Josh with the same empty look and the same mindless chomping on his gum. This time he nodded, though, then went into his windup and fired a burner right down the middle.

Josh saw it coming, saw the seams, saw their spin, saw the path it would take, and knew just how to swing.

When the bat cracked, Josh gasped in pain.