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Authors: Richard Reece

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There was a capacity crowd for the final. I looked around for Dad and Lisa and finally spotted them a few rows back behind the Runners' dugout. I waved, and they waved back. For just a few seconds I thought about how lucky I was to have a friend like Lisa.

We were the visiting team tonight, decided by a flip of the coin. So we batted first. The six-foot-six Tide pitcher, Brandon Becker, was as fast as advertised. Tonight was going to be a guessing game. With two out, Nellie guessed right and sent a change over the fence in left. So we were up 1–0.

Carson was the star he always thought he was. All of us on the team joked about Carson's ego. He was confident, which was good. You just didn't want to be the captive audience when he started talking about himself. But that night would fuel Carson's self-love for a long time. He was, for five innings, unhittable.

Scouting reports are helpful, but not so much for single, important games. The Tide were used to rolling behind Becker, and when Carson frustrated them they started to get nervous.

In the sixth we brought in our second run on a fielding error and led 2–0. With two outs in the eighth, Carson struck out the batter. At least we thought so, but the ump called a ball and kept him alive. Coach almost got thrown out for arguing. Umps get really defensive when they know they've blown a call.

On the next pitch the Tide batter homered. It was 2–1.

In the top of the eighth Becker was still burning them in. It would have been a fun batting exercise, trying to hit ninety-five, if we knew ninety-five was coming. But Becker's well-disguised change was around eighty. He struck out all three of our batters.

In the bottom of the eighth Carson walked the leadoff guy, who then stole second. He got the next batter on a grounder and the guy after that on an infield fly. But the next Tide batter wouldn't go gently. He took Carson to 3–2.

Carson has a good fastball—around eighty-five, with a sink on it. But the problem is that Carson thinks it's even better than it is. If you guess it's coming, you've got a good shot at golfing the ball into the wild blue yonder. When Carson started shaking off Nick's signals, we all knew what was coming, and so, apparently, did the Tide batter. One swing later, it was the Tide leading 3–2.

I was coming up fourth in the ninth, if it got to me. But then Nellie and Sammy went out and it was down to one—Gus. I think he was at the plate for five minutes, fouling off pitches, taking random time-outs, and doing everything he could to rattle the pitcher. Finally he walked. It was up to me to keep us alive.

I caught some motion among the spectators and looked up. It was Dad, next to Lisa, and he was sending signals. I hadn't seen Dad do this since I was maybe nine, but I remembered all of them. The signal he was giving me from the seats was “Take!”

I don't know why, but I did. And the first pitch was a ball. The next pitch was obviously inside for ball two. I looked back at the stands to see Dad signaling “fastball.” What the heck. I dug in and prepared for the heater.

I connected, and from the way it felt off the bat I wasn't surprised to see the ball clear the fence. The cheering was making me deaf as I crossed the plate. I pointed to where Dad was sitting and took in his grin. I'm not sure I'd ever felt so good about anything before.

The Tide led off the bottom of the ninth with a double. Carson struck out the next guy, but he walked the batter after him. We really needed a double play. But Carson was again shaking off Nick's signals. Finally Nick called a conference on the mound. Coach came out and all the infielders gathered around.

“What's going on?” Coach said.

I spoke up. “Carson, everyone knows you lean on your fastball. Shaking off Nick is a tell.”

“Okay,” Carson said to Coach. “What do you want?”

“Do what Nick asks you to do,” Coach said.

The next batter was way ahead of Carson's curve and wound up striking out. The third guy, a pinch hitter, nailed it, but it went right to Darius in left. We were the champions.

When you win something big, you know there's a party in your future. And the Runners knew how to party. But instead of celebrating with the team, I ran up into the seats to Dad and Lisa.

Lisa just held me very tight for a minute. Dad had a comical shiner, but otherwise he was a happy man and, he told me, a proud father. I felt years older, and so much happier, than I had just a few weeks before.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rick Jasper is a former middle school teacher and a long-time magazine editor and writer. A native of Kansas City, Missouri, he currently lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, with his daughter.

THE CATCH

 

When Danny makes “the catch,” everyone seems interested in him. Girls text him, kids ask for autographs, and his highlight play even makes it on SportsCenter's Top Plays. A sportsgear executive tempts Danny with a big-money offer, and he decides to take advantage of his newfound fame. Danny agrees to wear the company's gear when he plays. But as his bank account gets bigger, so does his ego. Will Danny be able to keep his head in the game?

POWER HITTER

 

Sammy Perez has to make it to the big leagues. After his teammate's career-ending injury, the Roadrunners decided to play in a wood bat tournament to protect their pitchers. And while Sammy used to be a hotheaded, hard-hitting, home-run machine, he's now stuck in the slump of his life. Sammy thinks the wood bats are causing the problem, but his dad suggests that maybe he's not strong enough. Is Sammy willing to break the law and sacrifice his health to get an edge by taking performance-enhancing drugs? Can Sammy break out of his slump in time to get noticed by major-league scouts?

FORCED OUT

 

Zack Waddell's baseball IQ makes him one of the Roadrunners' most important players. When a new kid, Dustin, immediately takes their starting catcher's spot, Zack is puzzled. Dustin doesn't have the skills to be a starter. So Zack offers to help him with his swing in Dustin's swanky personal batting cages.

Zack accidentally overhears a conversation and figures out why Dustin is starting—and why the team is suddenly able to afford an expensive trip to a New York tournament. Will Zack's baseball instincts transfer off the field? Will the Roadrunners be able to stay focused when their team chemistry faces its greatest challenge yet?

THE PROSPECT

 

Nick Cosimo eats, breathes, and lives baseball. He's a placehitting catcher, with a cannon for an arm and a calculator for a brain. Thanks to his keen eye, Nick is able to pick apart his opponents, taking advantage of their weaknesses. His teammates and coaches rely on his good instincts between the white lines. But when Nick spots a scout in the stands, everything changes. Will Nick alter his game plan to impress the scout enough to get drafted? Or will Nick put the team before himself?

OUT OF CONTROL

 

Carlos “Trip” Costas is a fiery shortstop with many talents and passions. His father is Julio Costas—yes,
the
Julio Costas, the famous singer. Unfortunately, Julio is also famous for being loud, controlling, and sometimes violent with Trip. Julio dreams of seeing his son play in the majors, but that's not what Trip wants.

When Trip decides to take a break from baseball to focus on his own music, his father loses his temper. He threatens to stop donating money to the team. Will the Roadrunners survive losing their biggest financial backer and their star shortstop? Will Trip have the courage to follow his dreams and not his father's?

HIGH HEAT

 

Pitcher Seth Carter had Tommy John surgery on his elbow in hopes of being able to throw harder. Now his fastball cuts through batters like a 90 mph knife through butter. But one day, Seth's pitch gets away from him. The
clunk
of the ball on the batter's skull still haunts Seth in his sleep and on the field. His arm doesn't feel like part of his body anymore, and he goes from being the ace everybody wanted to the pitcher nobody trusts. With the biggest game of the year on the line, can Seth come through for the team?

BOOK: Out of Control
4.56Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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