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Kenny Tracey was a good baseball player. He played on his school team and was also involved in a weekly, hotly contested neighborhood-versus-neighborhood pickup game. Two boys, one from each neighborhood, were responsible for calling all the boys in their respective neighborhoods until each side had at least ten ballplayers. Ironically, the game was played every Saturday on Lakes’ baseball field.
Jake frequently tagged along as an extra player, although he wasn’t a good ballplayer. On the Saturday before the trial, Kenny received the usual, “Wanna play today?” phone call. He asked Jake if he wanted to play, and Jake shouted an emphatic, “Yes!” Kenny was less enthusiastic about the game. He was nervous about the trial but decided to play for Jake and the other guys in his neighborhood. Kenny Tracey was the ultimate team player.
As they walked to the park, Jake looked up at Kenny.
“Kenny?”
“Yeah, Jake?” His thoughts were elsewhere.
“Something wrong?”
“No, squirt. Just thinkin’.”
“About what?”
“The trial. I guess I’m a little nervous. You?”
“Yeah, I guess. But this is important to Mom, and Zack seems like a good guy. Right? But what if they want us to talk about the things Gerry did to us . . . you know . . . the sex stuff? I don’t want to talk about stuff like that in front of all those people. I know I’m supposed to be brave, but . . . I’m scared, Kenny.”
Kenny relaxed and played big brother. “Me too, squirt. But it’s kind of too late to back out now, don’t you think? Besides, I don’t want to let Mom down. A bad guy like this gets away with shit, and he’ll do the same thing to some other kid. How bad can it be to talk about it? We got over talking about it to Doc Rothenberg, right?”
“You and Mom will be there the whole time, right?” Jake shuddered.
“Yeah, squirt, the whole time. Hey, come on. Let’s not think about it.” He changed the subject. “So, if there aren’t enough players today, what position do you want to play?”
“I stink. You know that,” Jake admitted, hanging his head. “I’ll play wherever they put me.”
“You don’t stink, bro. These guys are older than you. You’ll be better than these bums, one of these days, when you get older,” Kenny cheered.
They arrived at the baseball field. There were barely enough players, so Jake got to play the whole game in right field. He got a hit and made a good running catch. He also let a ball go right through his legs for an inside-the-park home run—they didn’t count errors—but that was baseball.
Kenny had three hits, played flawless shortstop, and hit a game-winning, walk-off home run in the bottom of the ninth. Jake was the first to greet Kenny as his brother crossed home plate. The whole team celebrated the sudden victory. This was the happiest the two boys had been since the camping trip. Best of all, not a single kid brought up the looming trial or anything about the case. Jake and Kenny walked home together, broad smiles on their faces, recounting game highlights. The trial was the furthest thing from their minds.
