Curveball (3 page)

E
ddie walked toward home plate Wednesday afternoon before the game, ready to take some batting practice. He noticed David Choi sitting in the dugout, intently reading the school paper.

David was reading the back page—the sports section. Eddie stopped for a moment to see David's reaction.

“Wow,” David said with an amused look as he set down the paper. “How much did you pay Calvin to write that one, Ventura?”

Eddie gave a sly smile and shrugged. “Calvin's in my math class.” That was true, of course, but it had nothing to do with the situation.

“I throw a two-hit shutout and he writes about you fielding a ground ball!” David said. He shook his head but laughed. “I'll have to have a little talk with that guy.”

“Ah, leave him alone,” Eddie said. “Calvin has to write the entire sports section.”

“Okay, well let's give him something good to write about again.” David picked up his glove and started walking toward the outfield. It was Miguel's turn to pitch today.

Liberty was 7–1 and well ahead of the pack in the league standings. They were a near certainty to make the playoffs. Things weren't anywhere near as sure for Hudson City, but they were definitely on an upswing.

So when the Hornets took the field for the first inning, it was with a great deal of enthusiasm and confidence. But they were also feeling pressure.

Big game for the Hornets,
Eddie thought as he jogged toward first base.
Over at first, you've got Eddie Ventura, who's been rock-solid in the field all season. This kid's got poise and skills that can take him a long way. Maybe all the way to the Majors.

But this is a big test this afternoon. Liberty's been the class of the league so far. The Hornets have got to be at the top of their game to have any chance at all.

And it turned out that both teams were at their best, at least defensively. Miguel held Liberty scoreless through the first four innings. But his Liberty counterpart was doing even better—Hudson City had only had one base runner.

Eddie had struck out on three pitches his first time up, but he had a good feeling as he stepped into the on-deck circle. He'd been studying this pitcher's pattern.

The guy was on the short side, but he had long arms that allowed for a sweeping overhand pitching style that was difficult to judge. He had started every batter with a wide, diving curveball that looked as if it would be way outside but broke sharply at the last second. Then, with the batter bracing for another confusing curve, he blazed a fastball right by him.

It had worked well so far. Nearly every Hudson City batter had either swung wildly at that first pitch or stood still as it veered over the plate for a strike.

And as Eddie watched, the Liberty pitcher threw that curve to Jared. Maybe Jared was expecting it, too, because he held his ground. And this time the pitch curved too far inside, nipping Jared just below his shoulder.

Jared dropped his bat and winced, rubbing that spot. But he turned and winked at Eddie, then trotted to first base.

Finally, an opportunity for the Hornets to break through with a run,
Eddie thought.
This kid Ventura is smart and patient. You can expect some big doings here, fans.

The Hudson City dugout had come alive with shouts of “Let's go, Eddie!” and “Move him over!”

Eddie knew that his task was to get Jared to second base. He dug in and waited for the pitch, eager to see if the pitcher would stick with that same pattern.

Here came that big curve, as expected. Eddie took the pitch for a strike, then made a show of looking frustrated and confused. He wanted to make sure the pitcher thought he'd fooled him again and would follow up with the fastball.

Coach Wimmer was flashing Eddie the bunt sign. Jared would be running on the pitch.

As the pitcher's arm came forward, Jared took off for second. Eddie squared himself in the box and held out the bat, gently tapping the ball toward third base.

A terrific bunt, perfectly placed
.

Eddie ran at top speed up the base path. The ball arrived just before he did. He was out, but the sacrifice had worked. Jared was safe at second with only one out, and Spencer was coming up to bat.

“Beautiful job!” Coach Wimmer said as Eddie entered the dugout. Lamont smacked him on the back, and Willie gave him a high five.

Outstanding play by Ventura, as we've come to expect,
Eddie thought.
That could be the key moment of the game right there.

Spencer continued his clutch hitting, smacking a line-drive single up the middle to bring Jared home. That proved to be all the Hornets needed, as they shut Liberty down for three more innings to earn a tight 1–0 victory.

Eddie was beaming as the players shook hands after the game. He really had played a huge role in setting up that game-winning run. He was already thinking about his next article for the paper. They'd beaten the best team in the league!

There was no better feeling than helping his team win. He had spoken louder with his actions than he ever did with his voice.

 

“So let's hit some grub spot,” Spencer was saying to Miguel and Jared in the locker room after the game. “Celebrate this big win with some fajitas, maybe.”

Spencer looked over at Eddie, who was sitting on the bench in front of his locker, one shoe on and one shoe off. “You hungry, Ventura?” Spencer asked. “Up for some Mexican or something?”

“Sure.” Eddie took out his wallet and looked inside. It was empty. “I got, like, thirty cents,” he said. “You spot me some cash?”

“At ten percent interest,” Spencer replied. “Anybody else want to come? The train's pulling out.”

No one else could make it, so Eddie walked with the three others on the wide Boulevard sidewalk toward El Torito. They were all still wearing their red-and-white uniforms and baseball hats.

“Hold on, guys,” Eddie said as they reached Twelfth Street. “I can maybe get some money from my dad.”

The law office—Ventura and Zambrano, Attorneys/Abogados—was on the second floor of a building in the middle of the block, above a computer store. Eddie opened the door and led the boys up the steep, narrow stairs.

Mr. Ventura was in his office, typing at a computer terminal. He had short curly hair, mostly silver in color, and a stockier build than his son. He stood up and stepped out from around his desk, which was piled high with papers. “Well, this an honor,” he said with a smile. “We've got the heart of the lineup visiting, huh?”

“That's us,” Spencer said.

“So how'd it go?” Mr. Ventura asked. “Did you beat those guys?”

“Big-time,” Spencer replied. “Miguel was the man. Shut down the best team in the league, right?”

Mr. Ventura turned to his son. “How did you do, Eddie?”

“Flawless,” Spencer said before Eddie could speak. “Laid down a nice bunt to set up the winning run. The
only
run.”

“Probably be the headline in next week's paper,” Miguel said. “‘Ventura Bunts Hornets to Victory.' And, oh, by the way,” he continued, “some kid named Rivera pitched a three-hit shutout. Maybe they'll squeeze that in at the end, after a few paragraphs about Eddie's heroics.”

Eddie blushed but grinned. Miguel had a point. His article might have to focus on someone else's contributions this week.

Mr. Ventura laughed. He knew that his son wanted to remain an anonymous reporter, but he could see that the secret might not last much longer.

“Well,” Eddie said, “like I was saying, Calvin had those deadlines….”

“And you just happened to be in the right place,” Spencer said.

“That's about it. Anyway, Dad, could you give me a few bucks? We were going to get a little snack on the way home.”

“Why not? A game-winning bunt has to be worth something.”

“Worth at least twenty bucks,” Spencer said.

“How about five?” Mr. Ventura said. “A home run, now that'd be worth twenty.”

“Thanks,” Eddie said as his father handed him a bill. “You working late again?”

“Nope. Leaving in five minutes. You're lucky you caught me.”

On the wall behind Mr. Ventura was a large photograph of the whole family from several years before. Eddie, about age six, was smiling broadly, and his top two front teeth were missing. He was wearing a blue suit jacket and a blue-and-yellow-striped tie, and his dark hair was buzzed nearly to the scalp.

Miguel pointed at the picture. “Now your brother and sister,
they're
good athletes,” he kidded Eddie. “Guess they got all the talent, huh?”

“Guess so,” Eddie said. “There was only so much to go around.”

“Too bad,” Spencer said. “You were one handsome dude back then, too. What happened?”

“Got old and ugly,” Eddie said. “Like my old man.”

Mr. Ventura laughed again and pointed toward the door. “Get of here and let me finish writing this memo so I can get home to dinner. I'm starving.”

“Us, too,” said Jared. “We're gone.”

 

The four boys slipped into a booth near the front of El Torito, and a waitress immediately brought over some chips and salsa.

“I'd love to have some guacamole with that, please,” Spencer said.

“Sure thing,” she said.

“
Very
nice manners, Spence,” Jared kidded.

“I try.” Spencer popped his fist down lightly in front of Miguel. “Your uncle here tonight?” he asked.

Miguel's aunt and uncle owned the restaurant. Spencer's implication was clear: if Uncle Victor knew they were there, he might send out some freebies.

“He's always here,” Miguel replied. “And believe me, he always knows who else is in here, too. But this is a business. He can't be giving away the house.”

Jared nudged Eddie. “We should have worn our El Torito shirts.”

Eddie and Jared had played on a YMCA basketball team the summer before that was sponsored by the restaurant.

Spencer put up his hands as if to surrender. “No problemo, boss. But your uncle's been very generous in the past.”

“And the present, and the future,” Miguel said. “Don't worry. Here he comes.”

They turned to see Victor coming their way with a pitcher of soda. Victor was a large guy. He went back and forth from the kitchen to the booths and tables to the cash register near the front. He was always dressed neat in a starched white shirt. He let out a whoop when his eyes locked with his nephew's.

“There's the king of the mound!” he said. “I heard, I heard. Complete game shutout. Not too shabby.”

He set the soda on the table. “On the house,” he said. “Refills, too, if you're thirsty enough.”

“Thank you.”

“
Gracias
, Uncle Victor.”

Miguel winked at Spencer. “See?” he said as Uncle Victor made his way back to the kitchen. “He's always generous. But spend some money, too.”

“That's why I'm here,” Spencer said. “Chips and soda aren't nearly enough to fill my belly. Where's the menu? I'm ready for some serious eating. Something cheesy and spicy. And
big.
”

 

Mr. Ventura was just pulling into the driveway as Eddie approached the house. He stepped out of the car and waited for his son.

“Worked longer than five more minutes, huh?” Eddie said.

“Yeah. That legal brief took longer to write than I expected. I was glad you guys stopped by, though.”

Eddie nodded.

The Venturas' house was on Fifth Street between the Boulevard—which was Hudson City's main business street—and Central Avenue, around the corner from Jefferson Elementary School and a couple of blocks from the high school. Eddie loved being so close to the stores and restaurants, but tucked away on one of the less busy side streets.

“You've got some really cool friends,” Mr. Ventura said. “They sure tease you a lot, huh?”

“Yeah, but we all do that.”

“That's okay,” Mr. Ventura said, stopping on the small front porch. “It's how guys interact. If they
didn't
tease you, then you should be worried.”

“Right. That's how it works. I give it right back.”

“Do you?”

Eddie thought about that for a second. “Sometimes.”

“That's good.” Mr. Ventura put his hand on Eddie's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Sometimes we go a whole week without hearing your voice, it seems.”