The Contract (10 page)

“But—”

“These umpires give their time because they care about kids, and they know how good it is for kids to have a chance to play sports. Now, I know they're not perfect, and sometimes they get it wrong. It's just too bad for you that your team got a bad call today. But these things even out. The point is, the umpires deserve respect and gratitude—not arguing. Remember what we wrote in your contract? ‘Respect others'? Umpires are included in that group.”

“Derek,” his mom said, “your father's right. I'm sure that umpire would feel bad if he knew he'd gotten the call wrong. But he's out there trying his best, just like you. And he's doing it for your benefit, not his own.”

Derek hung his head and sighed. He knew they were right. But it
just wasn't fair
!

And now his team was out of the play-off picture. What had started off as a great day, with him getting his chance at shortstop, had ended in disaster, with his dreams of a championship destroyed!

Worst of all was the feeling deep down, where it mattered, that Pete was right—that it
had
been Derek's fault for not catching that pickoff throw from the mound.

Derek knew it would have been a really tough catch. But in his heart he felt he should make
every
catch, every time—and that if he didn't, it was
always
his fault.

“Check. Your move.”

Derek stared down at the chessboard that sat in the center of the kitchen table. His white pieces were all bunched up in the corner of the board, while his father's black pieces were closing in from both the front and the side.

Derek moved his king and sighed. He rested his chin on his fists, with his elbows propping him up as he leaned forward on the table.

“You sure you want to move there?” his dad asked.

“I don't care,” Derek said miserably.

“You know, it's been a while since I've seen you get this down,” his father said. “You want to talk about it?”

“It's just . . . I don't know,” Derek said. “If we'd won that game, we'd still be in the play-off hunt. Now it's like . . .” He fell silent, words failing him.

His dad tried to guess where Derek was going. “You know, sometimes it just doesn't work out, no matter how much you want it. Even the New York Yankees don't win the pennant every year.”

“I know, but . . . I just wish we had more really good players, like the Yankees and the Orioles,” Derek said, his mind still on Little League matters.

“Well, that's the thing about team sports, Derek,” his dad said. “You're only as good as the team you're on. That doesn't mean you can't help your teammates be the best they can be and help your team play as well as it can—
as a team
.”

Mr. Jeter paused, considered the board, and moved his queen. “Of course, in individual sports, like chess, the better player almost always wins. By the way, checkmate.”

Derek slumped in his chair. “I'm tired of losing!” he said, knocking some of the pieces off the table. “I hate losing, and I lose every single time! At
The Price Is Right
, at Scrabble, at chess, at basketball . . .”

“Then how come you keep coming back for more?”

That question stopped Derek cold. He had no answer for it.

“Let me help you,” said his dad. “You keep coming back because you want to win so badly.”

“But I never do!”

“Yes, but that doesn't make you a loser. It makes you a
winner
. Because every time you compete, you're learning and getting better. You've been coming close lately at chess—although not today. You have other things on your mind today, and I can't say I blame you.”

He got up and stood beside Derek, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Anyhow, one of these days you
will
beat me, old man. And when you do, it's going to feel really, really good. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you'll know you earned it with hard work and patience and downright stubborn mule persistence. You keep that up, and apply it to everything you do, and you'll end up in Yankee Stadium yet.”

He gave Derek's shoulder a squeeze, then said, “Don't forget to clean up in here.” Then he went into the living room.

Derek picked up the pieces and put away the chess set, then went over to the sink and got busy washing the dishes. He knew his dad was right. He knew his dad was only trying to teach him a valuable lesson.

Derek could see the day coming in the future when he would beat his dad at chess, and even at basketball. Although he could never see beating him in Scrabble, or
The Price Is Right
.

He really appreciated his dad's mentioning his big dream, too, and saying Derek could get there if he just kept on competing and coming back for more.

Still, none of that made him feel one bit better about not making the play-offs.

• • •

Derek's mom came home late, after a Parents' Association meeting at the school. Lying on his bed in the dark, Derek heard her come in and greet his dad. When their voices got quiet, he wondered what they were talking about. Probably about the little tantrum he'd thrown after getting beaten at chess, he figured.

Sure enough, he soon heard her footsteps coming up the stairs. “Derek? You awake?” she asked, knocking on the half-open door and stepping into the room.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Your dad tells me there were some fireworks. You all right?”

“I guess.”

She sat down on the side of his bed and ran a hand through his hair. “It'll be all right, old man. You'll feel better about things tomorrow.”

“No, I won't.”

“Hey, come on now,” she said. “That's not my Derek talking. Don't you have three more games left in your season? What's your record now?”

“Um, 4–5?”

“Okay. So let's do some baseball math, Derek. Pay attention now. What would the Tigers' record be if you won your next three games?”

“Uh . . . 7–5.”

“And that means what?”

Derek sat up in bed, realizing that he did still have something to play for. “We'd end up with a winning record!”

“Exactly,” said his mom, getting up. “I rest my case. Plus, you already accomplished one of your goals. You got to play shortstop, didn't you? So . . . I wouldn't waste another minute lying around moping. That's not going to get you anywhere. And while you're at it, why don't you try to make the All-Star team as well?”

She was right! He'd forgotten all about the All-Star game, probably because there hadn't been one in the younger leagues, and because Coach Kozlowski hadn't ever mentioned it. “Thanks, Mom!” he said, hugging her. “I never thought of it that way!”

“Derek, a loss is not really a loss if you learn something from it. It's just an important lesson on the way to your ultimate goal.”

Derek grinned. The weight that had been crushing him was now totally lifted. He couldn't wait to get to Westwood Fields tomorrow.

• • •

But first there was a whole day of school to get through. Derek forced himself to pay strict attention. The school year was almost over, and he wanted to bring home a final report card that would show his parents how hard he'd worked to improve.

At the end of the day, when the bell rang, Ms. Wagner announced, “Before you leave, class, here are your math tests back. I must say, many of you did very well this time. I'm pleased. You've earned your summer break.”

That brought a round of cheers from the class.

“Now, now,” she said as she gave out the tests. “Don't get too excited. You've still got one more week of school, including a math final.”

“Another ninety-seven!” Gary crowed, turning toward Derek and waving his test in the air. “Five in a row!”

Derek swallowed hard and lifted up the cover of his test booklet to see his grade. “
Yes!
” he cried.

He showed Gary the big red 100, underlined three times and with three exclamation points. “VERY GOOD, DEREK!” was written under it.

“WHAT!” Gary's brow furrowed, and he walked right over to Derek to see. “Well, that's just . . . that's just dumb luck!” he sputtered. “What did you do, copy from somebody else's test?”

“No way! I work hard for my grades,” Derek shot back. “Do you?”

“Huh? Of course not! I don't need to!”

“Well, I don't know about that, Gary,” Derek said calmly. “Maybe you'd better start working harder.”

“What!” Gary said again. “This is . . . this is . . . this is a once-in-a-lifetime event! It'll never happen again, not in a million years!”

Derek smiled as he stuffed his books into his book bag. He knew it wasn't dumb luck or the only time it would happen. He'd studied his heart out, with some help from Vijay, while Gary had taken it for granted that he'd do well on the test—and get his usual grade.

As Derek left the class, he saw that Gary was still there, sitting at his desk with a math book open to that day's chapter, studying furiously.

Ha!
Derek thought.
He's already trying to get a leg up on me for the final exam!

That didn't bother him. If Derek's beating him on the math test made Gary a better student, that was okay with Derek. At least he'd proved that Gary wasn't invincible.

Even more important, if hard work had paid off in math, it surely would pay off in baseball, too!

Not only did the Tigers win that day, by a crushing score of 9–1, but they won their next game too, 8–0, to go 6–5 on the season with one game left to go.

Pete had figured out how to throw his fastball so it stayed over the plate. He was hitting for power too. Derek was actually starting to feel good about having him as a teammate. In fact, he was starting to feel good about the whole season.

Among other things, Derek had learned not to challenge the umps. Instead, he made sure to thank them at the start of every game for volunteering their time to help kids. Getting those umpires to smile was worth the effort, Derek thought. They didn't smile much when coaches and parents were yelling at them and calling them blind. Or worse—one time the local police had to be called when a parent wouldn't stop arguing with an umpire after a controversial call.

In the field, Derek had been a standout, but he hadn't been the only one. The Tigers had finally gotten their act together as a team—too late to make the play-offs, of course. But they still had this one chance, this one game, to get revenge on the Yankees
and
finish the season as winners!

“Hey, Derek. Hey, Vijay.” Jeff came over to the Tigers' bench and high-fived both of his friends. “You guys ready to lose?”

“We're not going to lose!” Vijay said, putting an arm around Derek's shoulder. “Derek's going to hit three home runs, so ha!”

“Stop,” Derek said, laughing.

“No, but you'll see, Jeff. You guys are ready for a fall. Guaranteed.”

“Vijay!” Derek said. “We don't need to give these guys any more motivation, huh?”

“Oh, sorry,” said Vijay, but Derek could tell he really wasn't.

“Doesn't matter,” said Jeff. “We're motivated anyway. If—no, when—we beat you, we go undefeated for the season.”

“I knew you were going to bring that up,” said Derek.

“You would too if you guys had a team like ours. Well, catch you later. I won't say ‘Good luck,' because this one's not gonna be a matter of luck.”

“Later,” said Derek and Vijay.

After Jeff had gone, Derek turned to his friend and said, “Why'd you have to go and say that? Now I've got to hit three home runs!”

“You'll do it!” Vijay said.

“What makes you think so?”

“Because I said it, and you don't want to be embarrassed, that's why!”

“
Sheesh
. Didn't anybody ever tell you this was a team sport?”

• • •

The Tigers came to bat first. Chris, their leadoff man, had become an expert at getting walks. Then he would use his speed to drive the pitchers crazy, stealing bases whenever he had the chance. But with Jeff pitching, there was no chance of walking. Jeff was accurate as well as strong. Chris went down swinging at three straight strikes.

As Derek stood waiting in the on-deck circle, he was glad it was Jeff pitching instead of Harry. Nobody had done much with Harry's fastball last time and Derek knew Jeff's pitches from their many games at the Hill in Mount Royal Townhouses.

Jeff loved to throw pitches at different speeds, to make the hitter guess what was coming. Obviously this had worked for him all year, since the Yankees had so far gone undefeated.

Derek, though, knew how Jeff thought, and he knew that Jeff knew that he knew. So it was a guessing game from the first. But Derek decided, before he even saw a pitch, that he would not swing at anything except a fastball.

The first three pitches came in slow, and two of them were off the plate. With the count at 2–1, Derek guessed Jeff would turn to his fastball, because that would make it easier to throw a strike. The fastball came, and Derek was ready. Knowing it would ride in on him like all of Jeff's pitches, Derek pulled his hands in and swung “inside out,” lashing the ball down the first baseline!

He knew he could make it to second base safely. But Vijay had put big ideas into his head, and he decided to pull a surprise. By the time the ball came back into second, Derek was already on his way to third!

The Yankees' second baseman panicked and threw wildly, and Derek came around to score the game's first run!

“You see!” Vijay said excitedly as he greeted Derek's return to the bench. “I told you! Three home runs, man! No doubt about it!”

“That was a double and a two-base error,” Derek corrected him. “Don't be calling that a homer.”

“Who cares?” Vijay said. “We're winning, right? We're going to beat those Yankees! Hooray!”

It was too bad the rest of the Tigers didn't know Jeff's stuff as well as Derek did. The pitcher struck out the next two Tigers looking.

Still, the Tigers had the lead, and Pete was on the mound, firing bullets. Derek felt pretty good about their chances. Sure enough, Pete kept the Yankees off the bases for three straight innings.

The Tigers weren't hitting much either. When Derek came up to the plate again, he was leading off the fourth inning. Half the game had gone by, and it was only his second at bat!

This time Derek decided to take a different approach. He would let any fastballs go by, and wait for a nice, fat, slow pitch to clobber as hard as he could. He set his weight heavily on his back foot, the way his dad had showed him, loading up for a mighty swing. . . .

The first two pitches were fastballs for strikes. Jeff cracked a smile, thinking he had Derek set up for the changeup. Here it came. . . .

Derek hit it solidly on the sweet spot of the bat. The ball went high and deep to left center, and the two outfielders raced after it. With both of them calling for the ball, it fell right between them!

Derek was already rounding second. There was no stopping him. He sped around third without slowing down and barreled home just ahead of the throw!

“Now,
that
was a real home run!” Vijay crowed, high-fiving him along with the rest of his teammates. “Two down. One more to go!”

“Stop,” Derek said, but his smile showed how pleased he felt to be setting the example for the rest of his team. “Come on, you guys! Pick a pitch you want and just sit on it. Let's jump on these guys now!”

Pete had been listening, it seemed. He let two slow pitches go by, then cracked a fastball so far that he came home before the center fielder caught up with the ball! Ryan followed that up with a triple off a slow pitch. The Yankees' coach had seen enough. He came out and made the switch at pitcher, bringing Harry in to replace Jeff.

From then on, it was all fastballs all the time, and the Tigers couldn't seem to catch up with them. The rally fizzled, and they had to settle for a 3–0 lead.

In the bottom of the fourth, Pete walked the leadoff batter, then hit the next batter. Derek could feel the anxiety rise inside him as their lead was threatened. Two on and nobody out for Harry, who Derek knew could hit the ball a mile.

Derek trotted over to the mound. “I know this kid,” he told Pete. “Keep the ball up high. He likes to hit the low ball.”

“I know what I'm doing,” Pete shot back. “Get back to your position.” After all this time, Derek could tell that Pete still hadn't gotten over losing the shortstop job. He didn't like getting advice from the kid who'd taken his position from him, that was for sure. Derek backed off, hoping Pete would take his advice even though he resented it.

On the first pitch Pete threw one down in the dirt. Derek wanted to call out, “Keep it high,” but he knew Pete was throwing low on purpose, just to spite him.

The next pitch was low too, but not too low to swing at. Harry golfed it high and deep, and Norman, out in right field, had no chance. He caught up to it, but the sun blinded him, and he wound up using his glove to protect his face instead of trying to catch the ball.

“NOOO!” Pete moaned.

“Yesss!” Harry raised his fist in triumph as he rounded second base.

“This team stinks,” Derek heard Pete mutter as he kicked the dirt in frustration.

Derek felt like saying, “If you had taken my advice, it wouldn't have happened.” But he didn't. He knew the play wasn't over yet. He still had time to make something good happen.

Norman had picked up the ball and thrown it in. Derek cut the ball off, and saw that Harry had slowed down rounding third so he could showboat on his victory run home.

Derek fired the ball in to Isaiah, a perfect throw that nailed the stunned Harry at the plate! “Yer out!” the umpire shouted.

Harry fell to his knees and grabbed his head with both hands. Now it was his turn to shout “NOOO!” and Pete's turn to yell “Yesss!”

The Tigers still had the lead, thanks to Norman, Derek, and Isaiah's teamwork on the play. Derek could see his parents and Sharlee in the stands, whooping it up and shaking their raised fists in the air. Even Pete gave him a nod and pointed to Derek with his mitt.

Pete and the Tigers managed to escape the inning without any more damage, but their lead was now a shaky 3–2, with two innings still to play.

Pete shifted to second base for the rest of the game, with Ryan coming in to pitch and Ernesto moving from second to first.

In the bottom of the fifth, the Yankees mounted a rally. Derek felt sick to his stomach as he watched hitter after hitter reach base. They were clobbering Ryan's pitches, and Coach Kozlowski had to come out and make a switch, bringing Ernesto in to pitch for the first time in the last four games.

The bases were loaded with one out. Ernesto got Harry to pop up to short, and Derek cradled the ball in his glove for the second out.

That brought Jason to the plate. Ernesto threw him his best fastball, and Jason hit a grounder past the mound. Derek raced to dive for it, but it was too far away and bounced into center field. Two runs scored, and the Yankees took the lead for the first time in the game!

Derek felt like he'd been punched in the gut. They were down by a run now, with the Yankees still hitting, and just one more turn at bat to mount a comeback!

The hitter took a fastball deep to left, where Vijay was playing.

“Oh no,” Derek heard Pete moan.

Derek saw that Vijay didn't know how hard the ball had been hit. “Deep, Vijay! Deep!” he yelled, hoping Vijay could hear him above everyone's screaming.

Vijay seemed to get the message. He ran back and back, then turned, sticking his glove up in desperate hope that it would find the ball . . .

And it did!

“Yeah!” Derek said, raising a fist in triumph.

“He caught it!” Pete exulted. “I can't believe it!”

“He's got some game,” Derek told him. “That's the second great catch he's made this year. Give him some credit.”

Pete laughed. “Yeah, right. Just dumb luck, if you ask me.”

Derek knew it had been more than that, though. When the same thing had happened to Norman, he'd ducked. Vijay had at least tried—and when you try, Derek knew, you have at least a chance to succeed.

Now it was last licks for the Tigers. Derek came to the plate to lead off the top of the sixth.

Harry threw him a wicked fastball. Derek, knowing that what his team needed most was a base runner, just stuck his bat out and flicked the ball over the second baseman's head into right field for a single.

Derek looked for a chance to steal, but on the first pitch Pete made solid contact, turning Harry's fastball around and sending it way over the left fielder's head! Derek wasted no time in rounding the bases and scoring the tying run. Pete, who wasn't very fast, came barreling around third behind him.

“Slide! Slide!” Derek yelled, motioning for Pete to get down.

This time Pete took his advice and slid. “Safe!” the umpire called. And just like that the Tigers had the lead!

Now it was the Yankees' turn for last licks. But their confidence seemed shaken, and there was a definite note of desperation as they urged their hitters on.

Ernesto got the first batter to pop up to third, and Sims put the ball away for the out. Next came a strikeout, followed by two walks.

Harry came to the plate, spat on his hands and rubbed them together, then waved his bat at Ernesto. “Come on,” he said, “let's see what you've got.”

Derek knew Harry, and he knew what his old friend was up to. He trotted to the mound again, and whispered to Ernesto, “He's trying to get you mad so you'll throw him a fastball. Don't do it. Act like you're going to, though. Then give him the slow change instead.”

Ernesto nodded, understanding, and Derek went back to short. The pitch came in, impossibly slow, arcing high and dropping down as Harry took a mighty hack, and hit a weak dribbler to the mound. Ernesto grabbed it before Harry even got out of the batter's box. He was too busy groaning in frustration. Ernesto took a second to point at Derek, thanking him for the good advice. Then he threw to first, and the ball game was over! The Tigers had beaten the mighty Yankees!

• • •

It was all Coach Kozlowski could do to get the Tigers' attention and line them up to shake hands with the humbled Yankees, who were still going to the play-offs but were no longer undefeated.

Derek, Pete, and the others were as excited as if they'd won the league championship. Harry, Jeff, and Jason looked like they were the ones who hadn't made the play-offs.

“Good game.”

“Good game.”

“Good game.” It was the same phrase, repeated over and over again by each of them in turn.

But when Jeff shook hands with Derek, he said, “Good game, dude. Really, really good game.”

“Hey, thanks,” said Derek. “Good luck in the play-offs, man.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

What was that clause in his contract? “Surround yourself with positive friends with strong values.” As different as Jeff and Vijay were, Derek was proud that they were his friends.

When the handshake line was over, Derek ran over to the stands to hug his mom, dad, and Sharlee. “You guys did great!” his dad said, beaming with pride. “And you played a whale of a game, old man. A whale of a game!”