Extra Innings (12 page)

Ronde frowned, blinking rapidly. “Incredibly, I actually think I do,” he said. “Yeah. I do get it. Everything's always pulling on everything else, right?”

“Yeah!” Tiki said. “That's it!”

“Then why doesn't the whole universe just collapse in on itself?”

“Whoa. Dude,” said Tiki, throwing up his hands, “that is way past my pay grade.”

“Anyway,” said Ronde, “it's a really good argument to make to Mom.”

“Huh?”

“About how sports are good for your grades! You teach me about the curveball, and I get an A on my science final!”

• • •

Ronde aced his test on Monday morning. He got good news from his math teacher—a 96 on the final and a B plus in the course! And best of all, in English class, Ms. Bernstein
singled him out as she handed out grades.

“Ronde,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “congratulations. You are the first one in three years to get a grade of one hundred on one of my finals.”

There was a collective intake of breath from everyone in the classroom.

“A hundred?” Ronde repeated, flabbergasted.

“That was the finest, most concise essay I've seen from a student in a long, long time!”

“My . . . essay?” He remembered it now. The one about how you play the game. He'd just tossed that off in desperation, without even thinking about it!

“You really should do more writing,” Ms. B. went on. “You're very, very good at it!”

Shocked, Ronde had to consider the prospect. It gave him the shivers, but when he went home that night and read his essay over, he had to admit it wasn't bad at all.

• • •

Mrs. Barber was thrilled when she was presented with the boys' grades for the semester. Ronde had all As except for history, where he'd gotten a B, and math, where he'd gotten that B plus. Tiki got three Bs and two A minuses.

“We told you!” Tiki said to their mom.

“And you were right!” she said proudly. Then her smile faded. “It's just too bad that I'm not going to be able to make your play-off game.”

“WHAT?” both boys said at once. They'd been really
looking forward to hoisting another trophy while she took their picture, just like they'd done after both football championships.

“I've got to work,” she explained. “Mr. Howard needs me to do inventory. I'm so sorry, boys. We'll go out afterward to celebrate, okay?”

“Sure, Mom,” Tiki said. He knew how hard it was for her. She was probably even more disappointed than they were. But he also knew that as they got older, and kept playing sports, they wouldn't always be near enough to home for her to watch them play.

He was going to miss those times when she could come watch. But he swore to himself that someday he would be able to bring her to all his games, no matter what it took.

• • •

The Eagles had started their season against these very same Rockets, and lost. They'd played them just a couple of weeks earlier, and lost again. So it was no surprise that everyone on the team was eager for revenge, and primed to play their best.

Unfortunately for them, so were the Rockets. They were all over John Benson's fastball like butter on toast. Before the first inning was over, they'd collected six hits and three runs.

John looked totally stunned as he plopped down on the bench. He was shaking his head in disbelief, but
when anyone offered him encouragement, he just kicked the dirt at his feet in anger and frustration.

Not a good start. Ronde hoped that the Eagles' bats would prove equally red-hot. But the eruption in the top of the first seemed to have taken the wind out of their sails. Tiki was thrown out by a hair at first base, and Lenny Klein and Jimmy Krupkowski struck out swinging.

The second inning went just as badly. By the time the Eagles came up to bat again, the score was 6–0, Rockets.

Ronde shook his head in despair. How were they ever going to turn this game around?

“Inch by inch!” Coach Raines barked, as if he were answering Ronde personally. “One run at a time,” he told his hitters. “Let's get back in this game! We can do this!”

But for all the encouraging talk, the Eagles went down one, two, three again. Yes, there was still time, but it was getting shorter and shorter.

At least Ian Lloyd kept the Rockets at bay in the third. His heroics in getting out of a bases-loaded, one out jam seemed to inspire the rest of the team, because in the bottom of the inning, they staged a comeback.

With one out John Benson singled to left. “Atta baby, Johnny!” Coach Raines yelled.

Ronde echoed, “Atta baby!” He was glad for John, who had looked tortured until that moment—tortured by
the six runs he'd given up in just two innings of work on the mound. Coach had made the right decision switching him to third base. Ian was pitching well, and it obviously wasn't John's day to contribute with his arm. Even so, he could obviously still contribute with his bat!

Ronde came up to the plate ready to swing. Down by six runs, there was no point in bunting. The situation called for base hits, and a lot of them! He let two pitches go by for strikes, because they were on the inside part of the plate and he was looking to go the other way, because that was how he felt comfortable from the left side.

Two balls and a foul tip later, he got the pitch he was looking for—a fastball high and outside—and he lashed it to left. Benson careened around second and slid into third ahead of the throw, while Ronde, seeing the opportunity, went all the way to second.

“Now we're cooking!” Coach Raines yelled, raising his hands over his head. “Come on, Tiki!”

Tiki strode to the plate, taking a couple of practice swings as he went. Ronde's eyes widened. Those were no ordinary swings, he realized. Those were home run swings. Playing to the situation, Tiki would be looking to launch one.

On a 3–1 count, the pitcher went with his best fastball. Tiki was ready for it. The bat hit the ball with such force that the ball seemed to rise in midair, gaining height as it went.
Hey!
Ronde thought.
What about gravity?

Eventually the ball did come down, but it was way over the fence, and when Tiki made it back to home plate, the Rockets' lead had been cut in half.

Best of all, they'd played only three innings!

Tiki accepted the mob scene that greeted him on his return to the bench. While that went on, the Rockets recorded the final two outs of the inning.

But that was okay, Ronde reasoned. They still had four innings to catch up. Three runs in four innings was not too much to ask, even against a strong pitcher like this one. The main thing was that Ian Lloyd keep throwing up zeros onto the scoreboard, keeping the game within reach.

Ian got out of the fourth okay, but he put two more men on base and threw a lot of pitches. Ronde glanced over at his twin, wondering if Tiki was going to wind up on the mound himself in the last inning because Ian was spent and John didn't have it today.

In the bottom of the fourth, the Eagles got another run back when Michael Mason hit a mighty blast that hit a car in the parking lot. It might have been the longest shot for any Eagle that year, at least when it counted. (Some of Tiki's batting practice blasts had gone even farther.)

It was 6–4, and in the fifth, Ian Lloyd finally seemed to find a rhythm on the mound, mowing down the bottom of the Rockets' order, one, two, three.

“Let's go, Eagles! Let's go!” Coach Raines practically
screamed, his face flushed with excitement.

Ronde came up with one out and nobody on. He knew how important it was for him to reach base in this situation. With Tiki up behind him, this might be the Eagles' last, best chance for a game-tying rally.

The first pitch was a changeup, outside. Normally Ronde would have let it go for a ball. But the pitch was up high, almost at his eye level, and Ronde knew he could slap it the other way. He reached for it, not trying to do too much—and the ball arced lazily over the third baseman's head and plopped down in shallow left field for a single.

Ronde clapped his hands and took a big, hefty lead. He wanted to go on the first pitch, because that would give Tiki more chances to drive him in from scoring position.

The pitcher surely suspected as much, because he threw over to first three times in a row, trying to pick Ronde off. On the third try Ronde got an idea. He said “OW!” really loudly, then got up and called time-out, limping around a bit to make the pitcher think he'd hurt his ankle.

Sure enough, the pitcher threw home on the next pitch, and Ronde was off and running like a rabbit being chased by a bullet. The catcher never threw the ball, so surprised was he. The pitcher threw his hands up into the air, knowing he'd been fooled by Ronde's act.

Never assume anything,
Ronde said to himself. It was
a lesson the pitcher had just learned the hard way.

Now it was Tiki's turn to do his part. He took a couple pitches off the plate, and with a 2–1 count, smacked a fat fastball into the right center field gap for a double. Ronde scored easily, and the Eagles were only one run down!

Unfortunately, that was as far as it went, because after a walk to Lenny Klein, the next two Eagles struck out swinging. Still, there were two innings left. Still time to get that last run.

But did Ian still have enough gas left in his tank? He gave up a screaming liner to the first hitter, but Ronde ran it down at full speed for the out. Then Ian walked the next two hitters. Coach Barrett paid a visit to the mound, and that seemed to help, because Ian got the next man to ground to second base. Tiki, playing there for the injured Chris Jones, turned it into a beautiful double play, ending the inning.

The Eagles were flying high now. In the sixth they put their first two hitters on base, before Tyquan and John both popped up to the infield. Ronde came to the plate with two out and men on first and second.

The situation called for a base hit, or at least a walk that would bring Tiki up with the bases loaded. Ronde decided to take a pitch and see how things went. Unluckily for him, the pitcher threw a strike, to get ahead in the count.

That meant Ronde couldn't hope for a walk; he had to try to make solid contact. The next pitch was a ball,
and he let it go. But then the pitcher threw an inside fastball that Ronde couldn't get around on. “Strike two!” the umpire cried.

Ronde fouled off two good pitches, then took one in the dirt. On a 2–2 count he saw an outside fastball coming and reached for it, hitting a soft line drive right between the shortstop and the third baseman!

As he rounded first, Ronde saw the throw come home. “Get down, Michael!” he yelled. “Slide!” Michael must have heard him, because he slid right under the tag. “Safe!” the umpire called.

They'd done it! The Eagles had come all the way back from 6–0 to tie the game!

Tiki followed Ronde's single with a long fly ball, but the center fielder caught it right in front of the fence.
So close, and yet so far,
thought Ronde. But never mind. It was a brand new ballgame now!

In the top of the seventh, Ian Lloyd began to tire. He got the leadoff batter on a great stab by Tiki of a line drive to the right side. But then he walked the next two batters, and Coach Raines walked slowly to the mound.

“Tiki!” he called, motioning for him to come in and pitch. Ian, kicking the dirt in frustration, walked slowly off the mound and took Tiki's place at second base.

Tiki took the ball from coach and said to him what Ronde imagined must have been something like, “Are you sure about this?”

The coach patted Tiki on the back and went back to the bench. Tiki threw a few warm-up pitches, and then the game resumed.

Ronde stood out in center field, watching his brother go to work on the Rockets' cleanup hitter. He poured two quick strikes in there, but then the hitter smacked a long fly to right field. Jimmy Krupkowski was out there in place of Tiki, who'd moved to second in place of the injured Chris Jones, and then to the mound in place of Ian.

Jimmy took off after the ball, and Ronde ran over to back him up in case Jimmy couldn't haul it in.

Jimmy hit the fence just after grabbing the ball. He fell to the ground, holding on to the ball, but Ronde knew that wasn't the end of the play. The runners on first and second might have tagged up and be heading home! He snatched the ball out of Jimmy's glove and threw it in to the cutoff man, who wheeled around and threw it home.

Sure enough, both runners had tagged up. The ball beat the runner to the plate, and Cesar put the tag on him. “Yer out!” called the ump.

“Fantastic play, Jimmy!” Ronde said, helping his teammate up and slapping him on the back. “See? I told you you had it in you!”

Now there were two outs, with a man on second. One more out, and Tiki would have gotten through the inning unscathed. But the next hitter connected on a weak fly ball to right. It was not hit very well, and the ball didn't
go very high, but it was perfectly placed. It fell between Jimmy, who had been playing deep, and Ian, who'd been guarding second base so the runner wouldn't get too big a lead.

That runner, with two out, had been off at the crack of the bat, and when the ball fell in for a hit, he was already around third and coming home to score the go-ahead run!

A loud moan went up from the Eagles and their fans in the stands. After such a great comeback, were they destined to come up one run short after all?

Tiki seemed to channel all his frustration into his pitches to the next batter. He'd almost done it, almost gotten the team through to the point where they could take the championship. But one stupid, weak little hit had done him in! His anger gave his arm extra oomph, and he blew three straight pitches right by the hitter to end the inning.

Now it was all up to the Eagles. Could they mount one last rally?

With Chris Jones out, the Eagles had Lenny Klein, Michael Mason, and Cesar Ramirez coming up. Three good hitters. And the Rockets had a new pitcher on the mound. Maybe he'd be off his game, or easier to hit than their starter.