Grand Slam Read online

  Jalen shrugged and shook his head. “No idea.”

  JY also knew what a new pitcher meant. He turned to make eye contact with Jalen as he left the dugout at the tops of the eighth and ninth innings. By the bottom of the ninth, the Yankees were still down 7–5, and a late rally against Connor seemed unlikely.

  The bottom of the ninth prompted another Baltimore pitching change. The O’s were working with a “closer by committee” approach, so Jalen discovered who was pitching the bottom of the ninth when the bull-pen gate opened and Jonathan Harris trotted toward the mound.

  “I hope you’re up for a challenge again,” Cat said with a chirpy brightness.

  “What’s he got?” Gertzy asked.

  Accessing his mental data banks, Jalen said, “Three out of four pitches are ninety-five-plus fastballs, and the rest are an even split between sliders and changeups. With smart sequencing, he can tie batters in knots.”

  An admiring “Wow” was all Gertzy had to say.

  After eight warm-up pitches that Jalen watched trancelike, Harris punched out Aaron Hicks on three balls and three strikes.

  “Harris has a feel for it now,” Jalen said.

  “Yeah, but do you?” Cat asked.

  Tollis approached the plate. He passed on a high fastball, and then Harris fell apart. The next pitch hit the dirt, got by the catcher, and allowed Hutt to steal second. The fans began a low murmur. After Tollis walked on four pitches, Baltimore’s pitching coach jogged to the mound. He gave Harris a confidence-boosting talk, probably suggesting pitches too.

  Jalen groaned. “How can I know what Harris is going to throw if he doesn’t know?”

  “But we could win this,” Cat said.

  “No thanks to me if we do, I’m afraid. Plus, I’ve got just one batter to figure him out.”

  “But you’ve got to try,” Cat said.

  “I will, Cat. I’ll try. I don’t want to leave JY hanging.”

  Cat smiled and patted his arm. “Just relax and do your best.”

  “Gonzalez can load the bases,” said Gertzy. “Then JY will walk the game off with a double, or better… a grand slam. This is so dope.”

  Jalen’s heart pounded against the inside of his chest. He breathed deeply and tried to empty his mind.

  Gonzalez dug into the box and whiffed on the first heater, high and inside.

  “That was some fastball,” Gertzy said.

  Jalen watched JY in the circle, calmly swinging his bat.

  “Crazy.” Gertzy stuffed some popcorn into his face like he was watching a horror movie.

  Jalen shook his head, trying to clear his mind. At least Daniel knew enough not to make distractions when he was trying to read a pitcher.

  The next pitch was another fastball, low and away. Gonzalez let it by for a 1–1 count. Harris then shook off his catcher twice before nodding and throwing an outrageous dipping changeup that Gonzalez chased and missed by two feet. Harris pumped a fist and turned around. When he topped the mound, Jalen said, “Another fastball.”

  “What did you say?” Cat’s eyes widened.

  Jalen glanced at her, his legs jiggling, as Harris wound up. The ball came in knee-high on a rope. Gonzalez swung down at the fastball and connected. He topped the ball into the dirt in front of home plate, and it bounced over the mound. Gonzalez took off, but topspin brought the ball down. He’d never make it safe to first base.

  The second baseman, wearing a huge grin, got under it and snapped it up like a pop fly.

  Time froze for an almost unbelievable moment.

  Then all the Orioles’ infielders screamed at once, “Throw it!”

  The second baseman recovered his senses, but it was too late, and all he could do was grit his teeth and check the runner at third.

  Gertzy whooped, “Talk about a brain fart!”

  They all laughed, Jalen nervously. JY marched out to the plate and caught Jalen’s eye. Jalen gave him a thumbs-up, even though he wasn’t entirely confident.

  Cat gripped Jalen’s arm. “This would be a lock for JY to get that new contract. It would be two game-winning moon shots in a row for him. Can you imagine? A grand slam?”

  Jalen had the jitters. He twisted free from Cat’s hold and croaked, “I know.”

  36

  THE GHOST OF A SMILE crept onto Harris’s face before he checked it with a frown.

  “Slider.” Jalen signaled JY with an imaginary throat-cutting motion.

  JY blinked, took one more swing, and stepped up to the plate. Harris wound up and let it fly. It started thigh-high toward the middle of the plate. Harris intended that his slider break sharply to the right. JY was ready. He swung and connected.

  The ball sailed out of sight, but in the wrong direction, going foul into the stands along the third base line.

  Jalen watched the pitcher only for an instant. “Changeup.”

  He signaled JY, both thumbs up.

  The pitch came in low and dropped even lower. JY let it past, and the count was 1–1.

  Gertzy slapped Jalen on the back. “Way to go.”

  Jalen was too intent on Harris to reply. “Oh boy,” he said. “This could be it. JY could actually do this. It’s gonna be a fastball and he can rip it.”

  He held up four fingers.

  JY saw the signal, and his face relaxed. He was clearly in the zone.

  Harris wound up and fired a fastball, chest-high.

  JY swung.

  The contact of ball and bat made a wonderfully loud, solid sound. The ball soared, high and long. The runners bolted and the crowd sprang to its feet. The center fielder made a mad dash for the wall and took a desperate leap.

  37

  JALEN WINCED, SHOOK HIS HEAD, and looked again.

  The center fielder lay like a pile of bones in front of Monument Park in dead center field, 410 feet from home plate. But he held his glove high.

  In it was JY’s almost grand slam.

  Cat gave Jalen’s shoulder a squeeze. “You did everything you could do.”

  “Except help with his first two at bats.” Jalen couldn’t help feeling glum.

  “Yeah, but you told him the pitch, and he almost had it,” Gertzy said. “It was awesome.”

  Even Cat’s mom spoke up. “And you know, you can’t win them all.”

  Jalen wanted to let his friends’ words sink in and make him feel better, but one look at JY’s face ended that.

  His nerves were at a high pitch as they waited for JY in the tunnel outside the locker room. Searching for a way to avoid the look he feared was coming, he checked the time on his phone. “Maybe we should get going. We can’t be late for practice.”

  “It’s only four twelve,” Gertzy said. “We got plenty of time.”

  “Yeah, but traffic,” said Jalen.

  “Ha.” Gertzy seemed to think Jalen was joking. “You said we were gonna meet JY.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be right out,” Cat said.

  “Yeah, okay.” Jalen was trapped.

  They didn’t have to wait long. JY came from the locker room in a huff, with his hair soaking wet and a patch of shampoo suds behind one ear. He fumbled to straighten his collar as he stopped to talk. “Foxx wants to see me in his office.”

  JY gave Cat’s mom a worried look.

  “It could be good news, James.” She gave JY an enthusiastic smile.

  “JY, I just have to introduce you to my friend and teammate, Grady Gertz.” Jalen pushed Gertzy forward. “Everyone calls him Gertzy.”

  “Can we take a quick picture, Mr. Yager?” Gertzy’s cheeks burned as he handed Jalen his phone.

  “Sure, Gertzy.” JY posed for the picture and headed for the elevator. He said good-bye over his shoulder and that he’d catch up with them later.

  The only one of them who wasn’t worried was Gertzy.

  * * *

  In the car, they chatted eagerly, rehashing the game, inning by inning. But the traffic crawled along like thousands of rowboats pushing against some unseen, powerful cu
rrent, and conversation slowed.

  Gertzy looked out his window up at the sky. “If this opens up, we won’t even have practice.”

  “Rain after midnight,” Cat said.

  “Why are there so many people?” Jalen couldn’t help his grumbling. It seemed like the day was as dark as the sky.

  “Let’s play Clash,” said Gertzy.

  Cat didn’t have the game on her phone, but she downloaded it quickly from the app store.

  When the traffic cleared and Mrs. H finally sped up, Jalen saw that they were closing in on Bronxville. The middle school where they practiced wasn’t far, and they arrived before anyone else was even there.

  “It’s going to rain cats and dogs,” Cat predicted, turning around to give Jalen a quick wink. It was an old joke between them.

  Gertzy assured Cat’s mom that they’d be fine. “Even if it does rain, my house is just a five-minute walk, and my mom can take Jalen home.”

  After good-byes, Jalen and Gertzy hit the locker room, then dumped their gear in the dugout. Jalen took the speed hitter from his bag and stepped outside the dugout to use it. He knew he had to dig deep to make the scouts notice him at the weekend Lakeland tournament. He took a couple of breaths and imagined himself in JY’s shoes that afternoon. What made the almost grand slam fall short?

  38

  INSIDE THE DUGOUT, GERTZY RAISED his phone. “You wanna play some more Clash?”

  Jalen swung and heard the sweet sound of success, like the crack of a bat knocking one out of the park. “Nope. I heard someone say that to master something, you have to do it ten thousand hours.”

  “Malcolm Gladwell.” Gertzy tucked his phone away and took his own speed hitter from his equipment bag.

  “What?”

  “Not what, who.” Gertzy swung nice and easy and the stick popped like a firecracker. “Malcolm Gladwell said that in his book Outliers.”

  “Oh.” Jalen swung, but flubbed it. “Shoot.”

  They both kept swinging, maybe thirty times, most of them good ones. The popping sounds of their sticks echoed off the houses surrounding the school until Fanny arrived and tossed his gear down in the dugout.

  After Gunner and Damon arrived, Jalen saw Daniel’s dad’s big white truck pull into the lot along with a couple of other parents’ SUVs.

  Gunner and Damon began tossing the ball back and forth, but they were just inside the first base line. Jalen glanced over his shoulder and saw Daniel fast approaching.

  “Hey! Ho!” Daniel announced himself as he burst onto the field. “What’s the word, my peeps?”

  “All right.” Coach Allen straightened and blew his whistle. “Everyone in the dugout! Let’s go! On me!”

  Everyone piled into the dugout. Coach gave his technique speech. Wind whipped up grit from the baselines, stinging their faces, and the dark clouds rolled by overhead. Still, the rain held off.

  “Getting ready to squash Lakeland?” Fanny said, clapping his hands, then rubbing them together as if warming them by a fire. “I can’t wait to show them our stuff.”

  Taking a deep breath, Coach said, “We need more to ‘squash’ Lakeland than ‘stuff.’ ” He looked right at Fanny. “We good? Good. Now, let’s get to work.”

  Gertzy and Jalen tossed the ball back and forth, mixing in grounders and pop flies as they increased the space between them. Jalen was relieved to see, from the corner of his eye, Daniel warming up with Gunner Petty.

  “I’m good. You good?” Gertzy fired a grounder at Jalen.

  “We just started.” Jalen scooped it up and rifled it back.

  “Okay, okay.”

  Coach blew his whistle to get things going again and the players scrambled. Because rain seemed inevitable, he modified the practice routine and went straight to hitting after warm-ups.

  The whistle sounded and they moved on to the directional drill. Gertzy went first. As his partner, Jalen set the balls on the tee. Gertzy tried to hit each of the targets on the backstop: high, low, and middle, and left, right, and center. They each got twenty tries to hit all nine targets in sequential order.

  Jalen knew from small talk with other guys on the team that Gertzy typically ripped right through the drill, occasionally going through the whole series twice. After hitting the left-field fly with his first swing, though, Gertzy seemed to lose his composure on the third base line drive. It took him four tries.

  Gertzy pounded the grass with his bat and stared at Jalen. “I gotta do better than this if we’re gonna beat Lakeland.”

  To emphasize his point, he jacked his next ball into the middle line drive target.

  Gertzy finished the drill with seven of the nine targets under his belt. Jalen struggled. He had been picturing the grand slam with the hitter, like Coach Allen told him. But it didn’t make sense to practice making line drives and grounders. He knew he’d heard some MLB superstar say, I mean, aren’t ground balls just another word for outs? Still, he thought that Coach Allen was a pretty smart guy and Jalen wouldn’t waste his time doing something useless. By the time he finished, he’d gotten only five total targets.

  The whistle sounded, and they went next to the cage, where Coach Miller pitched to them from behind the L screen. His pitches were perfectly directed.

  “Hey! Let’s go! You two need a written invitation?” Coach Miller’s round face burned red beneath the brim of his Bronxville Bandits cap.

  Gertzy held the thick net aside so Jalen could go first. Jalen stepped up to the plate and began bashing hittable, medium-speed pitches.

  “Good work.” Coach Miller’s low growl was high praise, and Jalen bit back a smile as he and Gertzy traded places.

  39

  “HOW’D IT GO?” DANIEL’S FATHER asked after practice.

  Daniel chuckled. “Piece of cake. I finally got some extra attention from Coach. Obviously, he sees me as his next star. Lakeland won’t know what hit them when me and Jalen get to Tampa.”

  “Sounds good,” Daniel’s father said with pleasure in his voice.

  In the backseat, Jalen checked his phone.

  From Gertzy: Thx for the tix!

  Cat wrote: Call 4 news about JY.

  Back in Rockton, Jalen hopped out in front of his house and said good-bye. The sun was nearly down, and the shadows were deep. He dialed up Cat before Daniel’s dad was out of sight.

  “Why didn’t you just text me what’s going on?” Jalen complained as soon as Cat answered.

  “Some things you just don’t put into writing,” said Cat.

  “Why?”

  Cat paused before saying, “I don’t know why. They always say that in action films.”

  “Okay.… So what’s the big deal?”

  “JY is getting traded to Atlanta.”

  Jalen dropped his gear and paced up and down in the driveway as he spoke. “But Foxx said he’d sign JY to a new contract if he batted a thousand! He said it to everyone! It’s online! It’s in the news!”

  Cat huffed. “I know. We both know. We said that. Now Foxx says the direction of the team is changing. They need to, quote, get younger to stay competitive. Blah, blah. They brought up a utility infielder from AAA so Reuben Hall can get more reps at second. And Reuben Hall is just as good as JY, only with more upside. He had all the numbers.”

  “What numbers?” Jalen yelled.

  “You? The baseball genius?” Cat teased. “ ‘What numbers?’ ”

  “I wasn’t thinking straight,” Jalen said.

  Cat continued, “Foxx already said on the news that if it were up to him he’d keep JY, but times are changing, and he has to think about the good of the team. Can you believe that garbage? The advanced stats say dump JY and get younger, so that’s what they do, follow the analytics. Don’t think about what you see JY do on the field.… Of course, Foxx thinks JY stinks without you.”

  Cat waited for Jalen to respond, but he didn’t.

  “You have nothing to say,” she taunted.

  Jalen exploded. “That rat. That skunk! I
can’t stand when someone like Foxx wins.” He removed his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. “What’s going to happen to my dad… and the Silver Liner franchise?”

  “But your dad already signed the deal, right?” Cat’s voice brightened.

  “Yeah, but what if it all falls apart? If JY stops tweeting—if he stops playing—do people stop going? Does it all disappear, like a dream?”

  “No,” Cat said. “No.”

  “Then why’d you say it twice?” Jalen asked.

  “What?”

  “No. You said no twice.”

  Cat hesitated. “Did I? Well, I didn’t mean anything by it. Or I meant, ‘No, the Silver Liner restaurant chain won’t go away,’ and ‘No, nothing bad is going to happen to your dad.’ ”

  Jalen realized he’d been shouting when the porch lights popped on. The door opened and his dad peered into the gloom. “Jalen? Is that you?”

  “Gotta go, Cat.” Jalen disconnected and grabbed his bag. “Yeah, Dad, it’s me. What are you doing home?”

  40

  JALEN’S DAD STEPPED OUT ONTO the porch and opened his arms wide. “I surprise you, no?”

  “Yes.” Jalen’s mind spun with possibilities as he climbed the steps. “Is everything okay?”

  “Why you ask me that? ’Cause I not cooking tonight at the restaurant, right?” His dad reached for Jalen’s equipment bag. “Let me help you.”

  Jalen let go of the bag and followed his dad inside. The smell of sauce cooking tickled his nose. “Well, yeah. You’re never home this early. Is the Silver Liner okay? Is the franchise deal still on?”

  His dad hung the bag and motioned Jalen toward the kitchen. “Oh, you talking about Mr. JY getting the trade? That’s not gonna hurt the franchise. They already telling me Atlanta is just another moneymaking place for the Silver Liner. That man you met at the diner—I call him the chief. He says Atlanta is gonna love my cooking.”

  “Dad, that’s great.”

  “Yes, yes. You sit. I got nonna’s chicken cacciatore over homemade linguini. You like, no?”