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  so I reached mine toward him.

  He squeezed it.

  “No way,” he said. “I’d never be mad at you.”

  Gordie Anderson, Oak Grove center fielder

  We play Compton tomorrow.

  That’s always the game we most want to win.

  We’ve lost one conference game, and they’ve lost four,

  but we need to win to stay in first place alone.

  Palo Cove has lost two.

  A loss to Compton would tie us with them.

  More than anything, we want to beat Compton

  because of their coach.

  He’s a real piece of work.

  I don’t know how his team can play for him.

  He’ll be coaching at third

  and yell at a guy for taking a called strike on the corner.

  But if a player swings at one on the corner and misses,

  he’ll scream at him to be more selective.

  I’m surprised anyone on that team has his head on straight.

  At least we won’t have to face Dawkins.

  I feel bad for him; he’s a great pitcher.

  I guess he quit because of beaning Luke,

  but maybe the real reason was that he was fed up

  with playing for their bigmouth coach.

  I’m sure glad we have Coach Hucklebee.

  Red Bradington, Compton coach

  If we win only one more game this year,

  I sure as hell hope it’s this one.

  That first Oak Grove game ruined our whole season.

  If Dawkins hadn’t hit the kid, he’d still be pitching,

  and we’d still have a shot at the title.

  I get mad every time I think about how

  that damn Oak Grove kid froze.

  If he’d just gotten out of the way . . .

  He ruined our whole damn season.

  Kyle Dawkins, Compton pitcher

  The last few days have been tough.

  With the Oak Grove game coming up,

  everybody remembers.

  Even if they don’t say it out loud,

  I can see it in their eyes.

  Some of them blame me for our season

  going down the crapper.

  Pete says not to worry about it.

  He says Coach has been making me the fall guy,

  and a couple players bought into it.

  But most of them didn’t.

  All I know is, I made the right decision.

  When I saw Luke in that hospital bed,

  his face all bandaged up

  and blind in one eye because of me,

  I knew I was right

  not to risk doing that to someone else.

  Pete Preston, Compton catcher

  I’m Kyle’s catcher, not his shrink.

  I can’t tell him he should pitch again,

  but I think he needs to.

  Not for Bradington.

  Not even for the team.

  For himself.

  That’s easy for me to say;

  I’ve never been the cause

  of anybody getting hurt that bad.

  But it was an accident,

  and Kyle’s got to put it behind him now.

  Oh, I understand why he couldn’t pitch

  right after it happened.

  But when I see how it’s eating at him, I worry.

  I’ve tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

  He’s got a great future as a pitcher

  if he gets control—

  and I don’t mean just of his pitches.

  I mean control of his emotions, too.

  I’m no shrink; I can’t tell him he should pitch again.

  He has to tell himself.

  I hope to hell he can.

  Tim Burchard, umpire

  I wish I hadn’t gotten assigned to ump

  the Oak Grove-Compton game.

  Not because of what happened to the Wallace boy.

  Because of Bradington.

  Most coaches are fine.

  Oh, sure, there’s always someone upset

  at a couple calls every game.

  That’s expected.

  But Bradington—

  if he’s not yelling at one of the umps,

  he’s yelling at his own players.

  I have to tell you, I earn my money at Compton games.

  I can control what he says to me

  by threatening to toss him

  if he says another word about one of my calls.

  But I can’t stop him from shouting abuse

  at his own players.

  I’d never penalize the kids on a team

  because of the antics of their coach,

  but Compton games make it tough

  for any ump to be completely objective

  and just call them like he sees them.

  A borderline pitch? Sometimes it’s a struggle

  to ignore which team is Bradington’s.

  Gordie Anderson, Oak Grove center fielder

  Coach Hucklebee’s a low-key guy. Never yells much.

  But it’s funny.

  Today he had to chew us out—

  for laughing at the Compton coach.

  You could tell his heart wasn’t in it;

  you could see he was trying hard not to laugh himself.

  One of the things he preaches is to respect the other team.

  But there’s no way to respect their coach.

  Bradington was ragging on his own players the whole game.

  He’d beaten them halfway down already,

  so it was easy for us to finish the job.

  Only the ten-run rule kept us from stomping on them worse.

  Andy Keller’s been red-hot with the bat.

  He pounded out four more hits today.

  I guess he was out to get revenge

  for what happened to Luke.

  Red Bradington, Compton coach

  That damn team of mine.

  What a bunch of chokers!

  They just flat-out quit on me.

  I’m embarrassed to admit I’m their coach.

  Teams like this year’s make me wonder

  why I even bother.

  They don’t appreciate what I do for them.

  All they care about is girls and video games

  and cars and who knows what all.

  When I was a kid, we played our guts out.

  Nowadays, they don’t seem to give a damn.

  Daryl Hucklebee, Oak Grove coach

  We were going good before,

  but ever since that win over Compton,

  our kids have been on fire.

  Every time they take the field,

  it’s as if they know they’ll find a way to win.

  Even if we fall behind early, they never lose their poise.

  They know they’ll find a way to come back.

  This is a team that just won’t quit.

  I know it’s a cliché, “Win one for the Wizard” and all that.

  But these kids really do feel the need to win for Luke,

  as if going the distance this year

  will make some kind of sense out of his injury.

  It’s great to see that kind of selflessness

  in high school kids.

  I’ve never coached a team quite like this one.

  Andy Keller and Luke “Wizard” Wallace

  “I sure wish you could come down to Coolidge

  for the games. Be there when we win it.”

  “Me, too. But at least the local station

  will carry our games.

  I’ll be able to listen to them on the radio.”

  “Remember, at the start of the season you called it:

  State champs. Two more wins and we’ve got it.

  With Paul and Doug throwing, we’ve got a good shot.”

  “I wish I could have been a part of it.”

  “You were. We couldn’t have gotten this far

  if we hadn�
�t played every inning

  with the same intensity and focus

  the Wizard would have.”

  “It’s not the same, though.”

  “I know.”

  Willard Kominski, longtime Oak Grove baseball fan

  Heartbreak.

  Oh, this was tough to take. One win away

  from going to the state championship game.

  The only consolation is, we didn’t lose it;

  Beva High came out in the seventh and took it from us.

  We were just one out away.

  Paul Gettys pitched maybe the finest game of his life.

  Beva had only one base runner going into the seventh.

  We led, 1–0.

  Paul struck out the first two. Then they got

  a scratch hit and a bloop double.

  The next hitter got jammed with a good fastball,

  but he punched it to left center.

  Gordie raced over and dived for it.

  It was a great try, but the ball was just out of reach.

  There’s an old saying, “If a bullfrog had wings,

  he wouldn’t bump his rear end.”

  In other words, it’s no good wondering “What if?”

  Still, I can’t help thinking . . .

  if Luke Wallace, the Wizard, had been there,

  he might have caught that ball.

  Daryl Hucklebee, Oak Grove coach

  It was a tough call, picking the MVP.

  I had five boys I could have given it to,

  and nobody would have complained.

  There were the two pitchers:

  Paul Gettys and Doug Goulin.

  Then there was Andy Keller and Alonzo Mitchell.

  Keller gave us a big shot in the arm.

  He surprised us all by how well he hit.

  He finished at .388, about two hundred points

  higher than I would have thought.

  Mitchell played a great shortstop and stole more bases

  than the rest of the team combined.

  But I had to go with Gordie Anderson, our top hitter.

  He had big shoes to fill on defense,

  taking over in center after Luke got hurt.

  Nobody ever forgot the way the Wizard

  could handle the glove,

  but they all respected the job Gordie did.

  Luke “Wizard” Wallace

  Dad pulled into the driveway, and there it was:

  The house. The basketball hoop. Mom’s garden.

  I went inside and climbed the stairs.

  After weeks of being stuck in bed

  and seeing nothing but hospital walls,

  walking into my own room,

  with all my stuff just the way I’d left it,

  was like being reborn.

  I looked out the window.

  I could see Andy’s house across the street, two houses down.

  I opened my closet and saw sneakers. Baseball cleats. Clothes.

  Real clothes, not hospital gowns.

  My mouth was already watering at the thought

  of Mom’s cooking, and of actually sitting at the dinner table,

  instead of eating off a hospital tray.

  I realized I’d never really appreciated home before,

  not the way a person should.

  I realized how close I’d come

  to never seeing home again.

  Sarah Edgerton, Oak Grove student

  I knew Luke would be going home today.

  He told me so the last time I saw him, three days ago.

  What I didn’t expect is that he’d call me

  and ask me to go to the movies with him Friday night.

  He said he wanted to celebrate his homecoming,

  and he wanted to share it with me

  because I’d been there for him and kept his spirits up.

  He didn’t actually tell me he liked me

  or say that he wanted me to be his girlfriend or anything.

  But that’s okay.

  I’m going to the movies with Luke Wallace.

  Larry Wallace, Luke’s father

  When Luke asked if I’d play catch with him later today,

  I couldn’t help but think of when we first

  played catch together years ago.

  In the beginning, he missed most all of my tosses.

  But it didn’t take long before his mitt was like a magnet.

  Missing a ball was inconceivable to him.

  Anything he could get to, he could catch,

  and his ability to judge the flight of a ball was uncanny.

  I wondered which Luke I’d see today,

  the beginner or the magician.

  Luke “Wizard” Wallace

  I was scared to try,

  but I finally did it: I threw some with Dad.

  When I followed his first soft throw

  all the way into my glove

  and somehow caught it clean,

  it was like seeing a rainbow after a dark storm.

  I’d been afraid I wouldn’t be able

  to catch the ball at all.

  We threw for maybe ten minutes,

  normal warm-up type throws.

  Even though I caught most of them,

  it was hard having to concentrate

  and watch the ball all the way.

  I felt as if I were wishing it into my mitt.

  And all the time I was thinking:

  catching easy lobs is one thing;

  fly balls, that’ll be another story.

  Michelle Wallace, Luke’s mother

  It’s so wonderful having Luke home—

  and not only home, but, praise the Lord,

  having him home with a big smile on his face.

  When I think how close we came to losing everything . . .

  I’m the luckiest of mothers.

  Luke “Wizard” Wallace

  I waited until it was dark; then I walked the eight blocks

  to the school baseball field.

  It was my first time there since that pitch.

  I wanted to make sure I was alone,

  because I didn’t know how I’d feel.

  I didn’t know if I’d bawl like a baby

  or curse

  or who knows what.

  But I had to go there.

  I had this crazy idea that it was all a bad dream,

  that if I went to the field, some kind of time warp

  would transport me back to the moment before the pitch.

  I’d focus on Kyle’s hand,

  and when it came forward and released the ball,

  I’d fall in the dirt and let the pitch sail harmlessly by.

  I’d almost convinced myself I could make it happen.

  The moon was full when I walked into the batter’s box.

  I saw the mound clearly.

  I didn’t bawl, and I didn’t curse.

  But I knew right off it hadn’t been a dream.

  Andy Keller, Oak Grove third baseman

  I tried to phone Luke before going over to see him.

  His dad said that he’d left a few minutes earlier,

  that he’d said he felt like taking a walk.

  I figured there were two places where Luke might be.

  I didn’t include Sarah’s house.

  I’m not sure exactly where she lives,

  but I know it’s not within walking distance.

  And since Luke hadn’t stopped at my house,

  I went to the other place.

  He was standing at home plate when I got there.

  I stayed in the shadows where he couldn’t see me

  and watched as he slowly walked to first base.

  He stepped on it and went on to second.

  Then he kept going, right out into center field.

  He walked to within ten feet of the fence,

  turned, and looked back toward the infield.

  When I left, he was still standing there.

&n
bsp; Luke “Wizard” Wallace

  I had Andy hit me fly balls today.

  It was tough.

  After playing catch with Dad yesterday

  and catching most of his throws,

  I’d hoped it would be easier.

  It was only Andy and me.

  I didn’t want anybody else watching us,

  in case I made a fool of myself.

  I caught most of the high, lazy flies.

  But not the line drives.

  No matter how hard I tried to focus,

  a lot of them got past me before I could react.

  I realize I’ll never have the knack

  for judging balls the way I did before.

  Before, the batter swung and I knew.