Dugout Rivals (2 page)

O
kay, guys, look sharp!” Coach Sanders shouted to his players. He stood at home plate with a bat on his right shoulder and a baseball in his left hand. “Remember, move your feet to get in front of the grounder. Keep your glove low and make a good, solid throw to first base.”

Standing in a short line of players at shortstop, Jake nodded. He was ready for infield practice and the chance to show Coach Sanders he could be the Red Sox starting shortstop.

Behind the chain-link backstop, Jake’s dad and another assistant coach were throwing soft toss to other players. In the
outfield, Ryan’s dad was helping out by lofting high fly balls to a third group of Red Sox players.

Coach Sanders isn’t fooling around this season
, Jake thought as he eyed all the activity on the field.
He’s running a pretty serious practice.

Coach Sanders tossed the ball up and hit a hard, high hopper. Isaiah Slater, who was first in line, stepped in, fielded the ball, and tossed it to Khalil at first base.

“All right. Next player. Be ready,” Coach Sanders said as he grabbed another ball from the catcher, Evan, standing beside him. Adam stepped to the front of the line. Coach Sanders smacked a hard grounder that skimmed the infield grass. Adam took a few quick steps to his left, scooped up the grounder, and fired the ball to first base. “Nice play. That’s how to move those feet,” the coach said. “Jake, you’re next.”

Jake slid over in front of the bouncing ball. But at the last moment the ball took a high hop. It hit the heel of Jake’s glove and fell at his feet. Jake quickly grabbed the
ball with his bare hand and threw it to first base.

“Good play. Way to stay with it,” Coach Sanders said. “But you’ve got to field ‘em cleaner than that at shortstop,” he added.

Jake nodded and moved to the back of the line. He was already one play behind Adam.

As infield practice continued, Jake made most of the plays at shortstop. But Adam made
all
the plays. Grounders to his left, grounders to his right, line drives, pop-ups, it didn’t matter. Adam fielded everything like a pro, cool and clean.

And with every one of Adam’s great plays, Jake could feel his chances of being the team’s starting shortstop fading away. Sure enough, when it came time for Coach Sanders to put together a starting infield, he said, “Okay, why don’t we try Isaiah at third, Jake at second, Khalil at first base, and Adam at shortstop?”

Jake felt like he’d been hit by a pitch.
Adam at shortstop!
he thought.
That was supposed to be
my
position!

He trudged back to second base. Adam might be a big help to the team, but Jake was beginning to think that his new friend could be a big problem for him.

Ryan jogged in from the outfield, heading for the soft-toss station. “What are you doing at second base?” he asked Jake.

“I don’t know!” Jake snapped. “Coach put Adam at shortstop.”

“Well, he didn’t miss a thing in practice,” Ryan said.

“I didn’t miss many,” Jake pointed out.

Ryan shrugged and kept moving.

Adam didn’t miss anything during the rest of infield practice, either. And Jake noticed every great play Adam made. He couldn’t wait for the end of infield practice.

Jake’s group finally moved to soft toss, where Mr. Daley and Isaiah’s dad, Mr. Slater, were ready for them. Mr. Daley gave out the batting instructions. “Get your hands back,” he said, demonstrating with a strong, smooth swing of the bat. “Make a quick step into the pitch and drive the ball into the net.” Then he paused. “Okay, let’s
see. Jake, you’ll start with me; Adam, you can start with Mr. Slater.”

Jake stood at the plate, a few feet in front of the net. He almost missed the first toss as it floated in from the side. The bat just nicked the lower edge of the ball and the ball popped weakly over the net.

“Head down. Eyes on the ball, Jake,” Mr. Daley said.

Jake got his focus back and began to smack solid line drives into the net—most of the time.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Adam blasting balls at the other soft-toss station, one right after the other. More important, he could
hear
every one of Adam’s hits as his bat connected with the ball and sent it flying dead center into the net. Each hit sounded with the same solid
whack!
as the one before.

A little later, Coach Sanders stood in front of the whole team wearing his usual Boston Red Sox cap, blue with a red B. Jake’s dad and Isaiah’s dad stood behind him. The players took a break on the grass at the edge of the infield, sipping from their
water bottles. “I like what I’m seeing out there,” Coach Sanders said as he paced the baseline. “We’re off to a good start. Everybody’s working hard and hustling. The games start in two weeks, on Saturday, April 18. Mr. Daley, will you please hand out the schedules?”

Jake’s dad stepped forward and handed a blue sheet of paper to each player.

“When do we get our uniforms?” Kyle asked.

“Next practice, I hope.”

Jake glanced at the list of games on the schedule.

Coach Sanders kept talking and pacing. “When the season begins, we’ll be playing to win. I’ll play people in the positions where I think they can most help the team.” The coach paused and looked around at his players. “But I don’t want to wear out the pitchers’ arms, so no one will pitch more than two or three innings a game. Any questions?”

Jake glanced to his right and then to his left. None of the kids spoke or raised a hand.

“Seems like the Red Sox want to play more than talk,” Adam whispered to Jake with a grin. “I like that.”

“All right,” Coach Sanders said with a clap of his hands. “Let’s have some real batting practice now. I’ll pitch. Everybody gets
ten swings.” He started pointing around the field, telling kids where to go. “Adam, you’re up first. Jake, you’re on deck. Michael’s on double deck. Everybody else is out in the field. Let’s hustle.”

The Red Sox raced to their positions. Adam and Jake picked out bats from the half-dozen lying in the dirt behind the backstop.

“Batter up!” Coach Sanders called from the mound.

Adam stepped up to the plate. He dug his right foot into the dirt and stared out at Coach Sanders. Jake leaned forward against the chain-link backstop and watched Adam’s smooth swing send line drives flying into the field, pitch after pitch. Each hit sounded with the same firm
whack!
that Jake had heard when Adam was hitting soft tosses into a net. Then Adam really connected, and the ball rocketed high and deep as the outfielders watched in awe.

“Wow,” Michael whispered on the sidelines as the ball soared higher and higher.

But Jake wasn’t watching the ball. From
behind the backstop he kept his gaze on Adam. The new player’s face was shining in the late afternoon sunlight as he watched the ball fly high and long.

As he eyed Adam, Jake started to worry.
Maybe this isn’t going to be my year after all
, he thought.

T
he yellow tennis ball bounced low and hard against the house and then skipped along the well-mowed grass. Jake raced to his right and fielded the bouncing ball backhanded. “Daley makes a great play for the Red Sox, going deep into the hole,” he said in his best announcer’s voice as he pivoted and fired the ball against the house again.

Thunk!
This time the ball bounced high to Jake’s left. He scrambled quickly to his glove side and snagged the ball out of the air. “Another great play by Daley!” he shouted in his announcer’s voice. “He’s the star of the team.” Then he flipped another throw at the house.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Jake took his eyes from the spinning tennis ball and saw Adam heading toward him, cradling a basketball in the crook of his arm. The tennis ball bounced over Jake’s glove. Adam cupped his free hand around his mouth and announced in a loud voice, “Error on the second baseman, Daley.”

Jake’s lips tightened as he picked up the ball at the back fence. It seemed like Adam was coming over every afternoon now, whether he was invited or not. “You distracted me,” Jake protested.

Adam shrugged and held up the basketball. “You want to shoot some hoops?” he asked.

Jake shook his head. “Nah, I gotta practice,” he said.

“Why? We don’t have practice today. Come on.”

Jake threw the ball against the house, but kept talking as he fielded grounders and kept his eyes on the ball.

“Coach Sanders said I’ve got to field the
ball cleanly if I want to play shortstop,” he said. “So I’m practicing grounders.”

“I’m gonna be the shortstop,” Adam said. “Coach puts me there every infield practice.”

“No kidding. But you’ll probably pitch a few innings every game. We’ll need a shortstop whenever you’re pitching,” Jake said as he fired another throw against the house.
I’m going to practice so hard, I’ll be even better than you!
he added to himself.

The ball bounced back. Jake got in front of it, but he lifted his glove too early and the ball skipped between his legs.

Adam cupped his hand around his mouth again. “Error on the shortstop, Daley,” he said, grinning.

Jake didn’t think that was funny. He hoped Adam would leave soon.

Just then, Jake’s father stepped out the back door. “Oh, hi, Adam. How’s your mom?”

“Fine. She’s working late.” Adam bounced the basketball on the Daleys’ patio.

“Do you want to have dinner with us?” Mr. Daley asked.

“What?” Jake said, but his father shot
him a quick watch-your-manners! glance. “We’re going to meet Jake’s mom at Mi Rancho, a Mexican restaurant downtown.”

“Sure,” Adam answered without hesitation. “I’ll just text my mom.”

“We’ll be leaving in twenty minutes,” Mr. Daley said as he went into the house.

Adam put the basketball down. He texted his mom, pocketed the phone, then held out his right hand. “Come on, I’ll throw you some grounders.”

“Fine,” Jake said. Reluctantly he tossed Adam the tennis ball.

“Okay, you ready?” Adam said. He turned and fired the ball against the house.
Thunk!
The ball skipped along the grass. Jake dashed to his right, reached his glove across his body, and snagged the ball. Then he leaped, twisted in the air, and flipped a hard throw right to Adam. “Nice play.” Adam nodded. “Maybe you
will
make it as our starting shortstop.”

Fat chance of that with you around
, Jake thought.

Less than an hour later, Jake’s family
and Adam were sitting around a table covered with a plastic red tablecloth at the small, crowded restaurant. Mr. and Mrs. Daley sat together near one end of the table. Jake, his nine-year-old sister Ivy, and Adam sat at the other. Soon the table filled with easy conversation.

“So, are you boys ready for the first game?” Mr. Daley asked as he helped himself to some beans and rice.

“Yeah,” Jake and Adam answered together.

“When is the game?” Mrs. Daley asked.

“Saturday at two o’clock,” Jake said. “Please pass the chips.”

“Will your mom or dad be at the game, Adam?” Mrs. Daley asked as she handed Jake the chips.

“I don’t know,” Adam said, looking down at his plate. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you see your dad much?” Mr. Daley asked. Jake saw his mom give his dad a warning look.

“Not too much,” Adam said. “Me and my brother sleep at his apartment sometimes.”

Mr. Daley nodded and then changed the
subject. “Think Coach Sanders is going to pitch you on Saturday?”

“I hope so,” Adam said, looking up and smiling. “I’ll only get to pitch a couple of innings, though. But that’s okay, because I like to play in the infield too.”

“Are you the best player on the team?” Ivy asked, looking across the table at Adam. Jake glared at his sister.

Mr. Daley spoke before Adam had a chance to answer. “Adam is very good,” he said. “But we have a lot of good players on the team. Your brother’s been doing a good job at second base.”

“I wish Coach would put me at shortstop, Dad,” Jake said.

“We’ll see,” Mr. Daley said. “Do you boys want some more salsa?”

“Sure,” Adam said, reaching for the small bowl.

“Who are you playing on Saturday?” Mrs. Daley asked.

“The Braves,” Jake said. “They have Tony DiMichael. He’s supposed to be a real good pitcher.”

Mr. Daley smiled. “It’s too bad Coach Sanders can’t pitch for the Braves. Adam’s been crushing all his pitches in practice. Last Tuesday, he hit the longest home run I’ve ever seen.”

Jake felt his shoulders tighten.

“Really?” Mrs. Daley smiled. Adam didn’t answer. He was busy wolfing down a beef burrito.

“Are you guys going to be better than last year?” Ivy asked.

Adam shrugged as he finished chewing his mouthful of burrito.

“I guess we’ll start finding out on Saturday,” Jake said.

But with a star like Adam, how could they lose?