Grand Slam Read online

  “Jalen,” said his mom through her smile. “This is George Compton. George is my biggest fan and my partner.”

  Did she expect him to be happy? Jalen thought, incredulous. Didn’t she know he not only wanted her back in his life, he wanted her back in his father’s life as well? One happy little family, just the three of them. No one else was part of it.

  Jalen couldn’t hide his disappointment. He couldn’t even try.

  “A pleasure.” George had a smooth British accent and a silver mane of hair with a prominent streak of black. Weird. He shook Jalen’s hand.

  The two adults turned to Cat.

  “This is Cat.” Jalen caught her eye. “She’s my best friend.”

  “And his agent,” Cat declared.

  Jalen’s mom reached out to shake Cat’s hand. “Call me Liz, Cat. I like a girl who knows business!”

  “So, you’re like, my mom’s business partner?” Jalen asked George, finally able to squeeze the words past the bad taste in his mouth.

  George winked at Jalen’s mom. “Well, that and more. Wouldn’t you say, darling?”

  George had slightly crooked but brilliant white teeth. He kept them largely concealed by lips that looked ready to break out into a whistle.

  “Yes, we are also together, outside the business part,” Jalen’s mom said, patting George’s arm.

  Jalen glanced at Cat. She gave a slight shrug.

  They all stared at one another for a minute.

  Turning to his mother, Jalen broke the silence. “So, where do you live?”

  “Our home base is London,” she said, “but we travel a lot to shows.”

  Jalen’s mom turned her shining eyes to George. “Should I tell him, George?” Their closeness made Jalen feel sick, and he fought not to turn away.

  George and his mom looked at each other for a long moment. Then George said, “Yes, Lizzy, I think you should.”

  17

  JALEN IGNORED GEORGE. HIS EYES were locked on his mom.

  “We’re thinking about moving to America.” She paused, staring at him. “Would you like that?”

  “Here?” Jalen asked, his heart thumping.

  “We’d like to be able to see you, Jalen. Be as much of a part of your life as you’d like. George can open an office in the city, and I can get to anywhere from JFK.”

  “Where do you have to go?” Cat asked the question that was on Jalen’s tongue.

  “Wherever clubs want me to sing,” his mom said, “We did Scullers in Boston, and I’m here to be in Tarrytown—at the Jazz Forum!—then, in the future, Philadelphia and DC. At least those gigs are scheduled for now.”

  Jalen felt like his mind had shut down. He saw George leaning toward him.

  “So Jalen, Lizzy tells me you’re a baseball player, and a Yankees fan, like me.”

  “You’re a Yankees fan?” Jalen nearly choked on his words.

  “Absolutely,” said George.

  Jalen and Cat glanced at each other.

  George went on, “Of course, cricket is my preferred game, but when I spent two years at Columbia University as a grad student, of course I discovered that North America had its own bat-and-ball game. And it had a championship-caliber team a short Underground ride away from campus.”

  Jalen looked and felt confused.

  “Oh, Underground. You mean the subway,” Cat said knowledgeably.

  “Just so,” George agreed, smiling.

  Jalen’s mom pounced. “You haven’t told us what you think about us moving someplace close.”

  “I… that sounds… great,” Jalen said. He held back and didn’t say everything on his mind. He’d loved and longed for his mom his whole life. Even though things were so strange, he felt by the way she looked at him that she loved him, too. Then there was his dad. Fabio DeLuca clearly didn’t have the class—or money, judging by the Mercedes—to compete with this guy.

  George put his arm around his mom’s shoulder and whispered, “Don’t rush, Lizzy.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Slow and steady, right?”

  “It’s just that I haven’t told my dad,” Jalen said. “When you disappeared after the game, I didn’t know what was going on.”

  His mom couldn’t hold back her impatience. “Should we sit down with Fabio?”

  “No!” Jalen was so loud, everyone jumped.

  He lowered his chin. “I’m sorry, but I’ll tell him. I just have to figure out how.”

  “I’ll tell you how,” George said. “Would you like to know?”

  Jalen stared into those piercing blue eyes. “Yes.”

  18

  “IF I REMEMBER MY GEOMETRY correctly,” he said, pointing a finger to the side of his head, “the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.”

  Jalen stared hard into George’s eyes.

  “I mean to say,” George said in a theatrical hush, “just tell him straight out.”

  Jalen felt his anger rise, and it felt good. “We’re talking about my dad here! I can’t just walk into the restaurant and say, ‘Guess what, Dad? Mom turned up, and she’s got a guy with her.’ ”

  “Of course you can, darling,” his mom said. “You should just sit down and tell him straightaway.”

  “Could we maybe say that you found me?” Jalen asked.

  “Yeah.” Cat spoke fast when she got excited. “You could say someone retweeted something about him and JY and you saw it when you were in Boston and presto! You came to his game.”

  Jalen caught her fervor. “Yes, you were doing a show in Boston when you saw it, and you took it as a sign.”

  Jalen’s mom looked at them with obvious disappointment. “When you tell one lie, it makes a crack in the ice. It grows and grows and branches out, getting bigger. You step this way and that way, but any way you go, that lie’s already beaten you there, and then you’re in it. You’re sunk.”

  “But I don’t want to hurt him,” Jalen said.

  “How much more hurt would he be if you lied and he found out later?” asked his mom.

  Cat looked at him with surrender in her eyes.

  Jalen didn’t like being scolded by the mom who’d gone off to London to follow her dreams and left him behind. He didn’t like it at all. And most of all, he didn’t like it in front of George.

  “Then how would you do it?” Jalen asked.

  “Be direct. Sit down with him. Say you reached out to me and I surprised you with a visit. Then tell him I’m moving back, and you’d like to be able to see me.” She brushed a long curl behind her ear. “Don’t worry. One of the best things about Fabio was that he always had a hard time saying no. He rarely got angry and never stayed angry for long. Isn’t that still the way he is?”

  “I gotta go practice,” Jalen said, suddenly aware of the relief it would provide. He could barely wait for them to be driving away.

  Cat was by his side. “Mom went to shop in Bronxville. She’s picking me up at three.”

  They headed for the dugout, breaking into an easy run. All too soon they were on the field.

  “Where you been?” Coach Allen grumbled. “This isn’t some game we’re playing here that you can drop in and out of.”

  “I’m sorry, Coach. It won’t happen again.” Jalen meant it too. His MLB dream was still alive, and he wasn’t going to ruin his chances.

  “I’m sorry too, Coach. I won’t let you down on the stats again,” Cat said softly. She was going to get the coach to forgive the fact that she’d been at the Yankees game during the championship game in Boston. Jalen wanted to stick around to see her work her magic on Coach Allen, but Gertzy was calling from the pitcher’s mound.

  “Jalen! I been waiting for you. Let’s throw some baseballs!”

  “Sure,” Jalen said. He stared at Daniel as he jogged toward Gertzy. “I’m just gonna, uh…”

  “Yeah, go on,” Daniel said. “You’re not my babysitter.”

  Daniel wore a grin as he and Jalen bumped fists. Jalen slipped past him, then jogged out onto the field.<
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  While they were doing warm-up stretches, Gertzy whispered, “Bet you a shake I can tell you what the coach says we’re doing today—the exact words!”

  “No way.”

  “Hah! Very much way. Coach Allen is like most people over forty. He never hesitates to repeat a good joke or a smart idea. So every Bandits practice starts with the same speech.”

  Gertzy waved his arms theatrically and cleared his throat.

  “Sheesh, you’re acting like a character in a kids’ film,” Jalen said.

  “Silence! Please!” Gertzy put his hand on his chest. “ ‘Gentlemen,’ ” he began in a very accurate imitation of the coach, “ ‘no baseball team ever lost because they were too good at the fundamentals. Therefore, today’s practice will concentrate on fielding fundamentals.’ From there it varies.”

  Jalen vaguely remembered the words from the only other practice he and Daniel had been to—right before the tournament. He could practically feel the price of a shake flying out of his pocket. Still, he didn’t mind what Coach said if he called them “gentlemen.” His old coach didn’t even know the word.

  As they started with the physical basics—jogging across the outfield with exaggerated knee lifts, shuffling side to side, backpedaling, and more—Jalen felt like part of a unit. Stars and scrubs alike did everything. They were a team learning to get better.

  But when they broke into baseball activity warm-ups, the seams of team unity started to fray.

  “Okay, genius, let’s you and me do long toss,” Daniel said.

  “We do long toss by position,” Gertzy said. “Outfielders together, infielders together, and catchers go off by themselves to practice their magical arts.”

  After striking a pose of deep thought, Fanny said, “I agree, it really is magical the way I can make food disappear.”

  Getzy, Fanny, and Jalen couldn’t help laughing. Daniel was poised to argue but was waylaid by Coach Miller.

  “I’m hearing more excuses than I’m seeing action. Let’s get some work in before the end of practice.”

  “I think Gertzy’s right, Daniel. Hey, Gunner,” Jalen yelled to the first baseman. “It makes sense for us to toss together, right? Second baseman and first baseman.”

  Gertzy gave Jalen a secret thumbs-up as all the team members paired off and began tossing at a thirty-foot distance they would gradually expand to over a hundred feet.

  That was slick of me, Jalen thought as he stretched his arm out. Diplomatic, almost.

  19

  WHEN WARM-UPS WERE FINISHED, COACH Allen called the team in around home plate. He put his hand on his chest and said: “Gentlemen, no baseball team ever lost because they were too good at the fundamentals.”

  Gertzy caught Jalen’s eye and they practically broke out laughing.

  “Therefore, today’s practice will concentrate on fielding fundamentals. Catchers will work on the elements of receiving: framing, blocking pitches, throwing to bases.

  “We’ll do pitcher fielding practice on the right side of the infield. Ground balls, short hops, and infield flies on the left side. Outfielders will work on reads and routes, catching thrown fly balls.

  “Let’s get to it, and try not to be sloppy. Practice is designed to make you better players, not casualties.”

  They did a shout in unison and broke off to their positions. Everyone knew that Coach’s warning wasn’t a hollow threat. A wildly bad throw could bean a teammate working on a different drill.

  Fanny, at catcher, could get as badly dinged by a pitch in the dirt at practice as in a game. And PFP, or pitcher fielding practice, could look like ballet one minute and slapstick comedy the next. There was no denying that getting those game actions right could be the difference between a win and a humiliating loss.

  Jalen, Gunner, and Gertz worked at PFP. On bunts that got past the pitcher and slow ground balls that got the first baseman out of position, the pitcher had to outrun the batter to first and field a throw while moving at high speed. The first or second baseman had to lead with his throw to a moving target. The toss had to be fast enough to beat the batter to the bag, but not so fast that it was impossible to catch. After a couple of clumsy efforts, Gertzy and Jalen got a feel for each other’s movements and timing. They developed a rhythm, and it actually looked like ballet.

  Eventually Coach Allen said that they’d done enough fielding for the day. “It’s time for some offense.”

  “No problem, Coach,” Fanny yelled. “My parents say I offend everybody.”

  “Coach, I think that man is too unhinged to have a bat in his hands,” Gunner joked.

  “Sometimes I have the same thought,” the coach said, playing along. “Still, it’s the way we operate.”

  Coach Miller reeled off groups of names: some to hit in the batting cage, some to shag balls hit to the outfield, the rest to get five swings at live pitching and rotate out. By turn, everyone would do the same work. The coach had put Jalen, Gertzy, and Gunner in the same group with a couple of less accomplished hitters.

  Coach Miller stood on the pitcher’s mound behind a life-size L-shaped screen, for protection.

  “After you,” Gertzy said, and made a flourish with his arm.

  “Oh, no, after you,” Gunner responded.

  “No, after you,” Gertzy replied.

  “Jalen, get in the batter’s box and let them work it out,” Coach Miller said. “Today we’re going to hit to the big part of the field. Everybody hits balls gap-to-gap. Use the big part of the field.”

  Jalen cringed. He wasn’t used to thinking of line drives. He wanted to say, I mash dingers, not singles. I want to crush grand slams, not hustle doubles.

  The coach’s first toss, a typically medium-speed fastball, was irresistible. Jalen hit a rope over the third-base bag. Not what the drill called for.

  “Way to make the coaches love you,” Gunner called, loud enough to disturb the customers back at the Silver Liner.

  Jalen ignored the taunt and dug an unnecessarily deep hole for his back foot.

  He thwacked the next pitch foul, getting far out in front.

  “Think middle of the field,” yelled the coach, “right back at me.”

  But it only got worse after that. Jalen reached his boiling point quickly. Try as he might, he couldn’t get near the middle of the field. He couldn’t even keep a ball fair. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he was trying to hit them into the dugout near third base. He wondered what the coach was thinking, what his teammates were thinking.

  “Okay, Jalen. Rotate out.” It was Coach Allen.

  Jalen hadn’t even realized that the head coach had been watching. His mind raced, and he saw himself asking—begging—to get back on Chris Gamble’s team. He sullenly walked away from home plate and stood silently behind the protective screen when a hand landed on his shoulder.

  “Drop the bat and take a walk with me,” Coach Allen said.

  Jalen’s mind flooded with fear as he thought, Oh, no, it’s really happening. He’s kicking me off the team for… for pulling the ball?

  When they got farther from the field the coach said quietly, “Jalen, I don’t know how much coaching you had before you joined the Bandits, but trust me, you’re going to have a lot more here.”

  “Really, Coach?” Jalen felt relieved. “That’s what you wanted to say?”

  “Oh, that’s just the opener. It’s a long game.… The thing is, you have great athletic ability, no doubt. And you have great bat-to-ball skills. What you have to work on is technique. Technique developed through endless repetition is the only thing that will get you through the failure you’re always going to have.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Jalen. Listen. The best players in the pro game make outs seventy percent of the time. But if you have a .300 batting average, you’re a star. If you got thirty percent on a math test, you’d be pretty humbled, right?”

  Jalen just nodded yes. It was true.

  “You can’t hit the bal
l up the middle at will, and I don’t think that’s caused by hardheadedness or anything but lack of technique. If you want to play here, you’re going to learn how to keep your hands inside the ball. You need to start your load earlier. Get your weight back and then drive forward with your front shoulder in. Keep your hands for last.… Do you see?” Coach asked as he executed the motion he described.

  “I think I do, but it’s a lot to take in,” Jalen admitted honestly.

  “Hmm. You know, one of the best examples I could give is James Yager. You’ve seen him play a million times. You could do worse than imitate his approach. You’ve seen him load his weight, fire the lower half of his body, and bring his hands through last.”

  “Well… honestly… I don’t really watch JY when he’s playing. I don’t really watch the technique of any hitter. I’m always watching the opposing pitcher, trying to predict his pitches,” Jalen explained.

  Coach Allen laughed heartily. “That is what you do, isn’t it. Well, not here. Here you work on your game. Agreed?”

  “Absolutely. Here I work on my game.”

  “Let’s shake on it!”

  20

  OF COURSE, WHEN PRACTICE WOUND down, Fanny and Gertzy and Daniel razzed him about being the “teacher’s pet” and “trying to be buddy-buddy” with the coach and a dozen other half-joking/half-jealous taunts.

  Jalen stayed in control. Coach was making an extra effort because he thought Jalen was worth teaching. And that made Jalen feel like his game was going to soar. He was going to make it.

  All he was willing to say to his friends was “hot sauce.” And it drove them wild.

  21

  BEFORE THEY HIT THE LOCKER rooms, Gertzy pulled him aside and lowered his voice. “You heard of Lakeland?”

  “Heard of them? Sure,” Jalen bluffed.

  “Yeah, only the biggest sports academy in the country. Top players from all over go to school and train for baseball, year-round. They start in sixth grade. Imagine that? And their tournaments are almost impossible to get into.”

  “Yeah? So?” Jalen swatted at a bee with his glove.