The Yankees catcher jumped up right away. Blood gushed from his nose. He waved his fist and shouted angrily at Kevin Milo while the Orioles practically busted a gut trying not to laugh out loud.

“What happened?” Mickey asked when he reached the bench.

“Oh, you should have seen it!” Sammy whispered. “The pitcher wanted a new ball, right? So he tossed the old one to Moose. Only Moose wasn’t paying attention. Too busy giving you a lot of crap. And the ball bopped him right on the nose.”

“Talk about poetic justice,” Hunter said.

The Orioles turned and stared at him.

“Nerd,” Katelyn said, “do you even know what poetic justice is?”

“Of course,” Hunter said. “It’s a literary device. Good deeds rewarded, bad ones punished, etc. Everyone knows that.”

The Orioles looked at one another in disbelief as Hunter smiled serenely.

“Nerd,” Katelyn said, shaking her head, “you never cease to amaze me.”

Now Money Mayhew popped out of the Yankees dugout with a worried look to check on his son. But Moose, holding his nose gingerly, waved him off.

“I’m fine, Dad!” he shouted. “Jeez! Way to overreact!”

The umpire pulled off his mask. “No, you’re not fine, son,” he said. “Can’t play with a bloody nose. League rule. Gotta clean yourself up.”

This time Money returned with a first-aid kit. He wiped the blood from his son’s face with a cloth and handed him two strips of cotton gauze. Moose rolled them into tiny cylinders and shoved one in each nostril.

“Ewww, gross!” Katelyn said. “He looks like a walrus with those things sticking out of his nose!”

But the umpire checked Moose again and seemed satisfied the bleeding was under control. “Let’s play ball—again!” he cried. Moose glared at his pitcher once more before pulling down his mask and dropping into his crouch.

Kevin Milo was clearly shaken now, presumably from both Mickey’s homer and his own role in the near maiming of his all-star catcher. He walked around the mound, trying to compose himself as Corey dug in and the Orioles dugout got even louder.

Yet even though the Orioles hit the ball hard off the Yankees pitcher, each shot went right at someone. Corey hit a rocket to the third baseman, who was perfectly positioned near the line, and Spencer and Ethan both flied out to deep left field to end the threat.

“One run’s not enough to win this,” Gabe said worriedly before the O’s took the field. “Not the way these monsters hit. And by the way? Your buddy Moose leads off.”

When Moose swaggered to the plate, Mickey looked at him and did a double take. The cotton gauze was gone from Moose’s nostrils. But his nose was red and swollen to twice its size, making his eyes squint and his face look distorted.

The kid looks like a completely different person! Mickey thought. No, check that. With that huge nose, he doesn’t even look like a person.

He looks like…Mr. Potato Head!

“What’re you staring at?” Moose growled as he dug in.

Just checking out your new look, handsome, Mickey wanted to say. But Zoom was already peering in for the sign, so he refocused on the game and said nothing.

Zoom pitched Moose carefully—a little too carefully, Mickey thought. He blew a fastball past the big catcher, but then missed with two straight curves and a fastball outside.

Three-and-1. Zoom had gotten himself in a dangerous count. Moose stepped out and made a big show of loosening and tightening his batting gloves before stepping back in.

As soon as the next pitch left Zoom’s hand, Mickey winced.

It was going to be low. He dropped to his knees, ready to smother it in the dirt. Oh, well, he thought. A walk to this guy isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Except in the next instant, Moose reached down with what looked like a golf swing and sent the ball rocketing over the center-field fence.

The big scoreboard flashed: Orioles 1, Yankees 1.

Zoom looked stricken. As the Yankees fans erupted, Moose rounded the bases with his fist thrust in the air. Nearing home, he jumped and came crashing down on the plate with both feet while pointing gleefully at Mickey as if to say, Your turn to check the score, dude.

Okay, fine, Mickey thought.

But you still look like Mr. Potato Head.

As the Yankees poured out of the dugout to high-five Moose, Zoom wore a disgusted expression. Mickey jogged out to the mound.

“How did he hit that?” Zoom asked. “Crappiest pitch I’ve ever thrown, and the kid just flicks his bat and—”

Mickey tried to keep his voice calm.

“Sometimes you gotta give the other team credit,” he said. “They’re trying to win, too. Now forget it. Get the next guy.”

Zoom managed a wan smile. “Okay, Coach,” he said. “You’re right. We move on.”

Just as Kevin Milo had, Zoom seemed to recover quickly. He struck out the next two batters. The third kid up put a good swing on a fastball, but Corey made a terrific diving catch of a sinking line drive to center to end the inning.

“Awesome glove, C!” Mickey’s dad shouted as the O’s ran off the field. “Need some offense now!”

But from there, the game turned into a pitching clinic. Both Zoom and Kevin Milo were throwing hard, mixing their pitches and keeping the hitters off balance.

Moose was still chirping at the Orioles batters and Money Mayhew was still barking at the umps and keeping up a loud running commentary that tended to disparage the O’s.

“Watch out for this guy now,” he yelled to his team the next time Hunter was up. “He doesn’t look like much, kind of scrawny and all. But you never know.”

The game was still tied at one in the sixth inning when the Orioles came to bat. Mickey could feel the tension in the dugout. It had been building with each scoreless inning. Katelyn plopped down next to him with a worried look.

“You realize that if—” she said before Mickey cut her off with a wave of his hand.

Yes, he thought, everyone on the team knows the situation.

If the game went extra innings, Zoom would have to come out. A kid could only pitch six innings in a game, even in the playoffs. Which meant that Danny would come on in relief. And with his mediocre fastball, it would be like batting practice for the Yankees.

Whereas the Yankees’ number two pitcher threw almost as hard as Kevin Milo. So did their number three pitcher, for that matter.

“Don’t think about it,” Mickey said. “We get a run here, and Zoom closes out the win—that’s how I’m looking at it.”

Katelyn seemed to relax.

“Mr. Positive!” she said. “That’s good! I like the way you think, nerd!”

Mickey smiled and the two of them bumped fists. He wasn’t sure he felt as positive as he sounded—not that Katelyn needed to know that.

But Kevin Milo was still dominating and the Orioles went down in order in the sixth. Now the pressure was squarely on Zoom—again.

“One more inning,” Mickey said, clapping him on the back as the two took the field.

Zoom took a deep breath and nodded. “I got this,” he said.

After all the pitches he’d thrown on a hot, humid July night, Zoom was still masterful.

He struck out the first Yankees batter on three straight fastballs. The second batter managed to foul off a couple of pitches before hitting a weak bouncer to Ethan at first.

Two outs. Coming to the plate now for the Yankees was Kevin Milo.

According to Zoom’s scouting report, Milo was a pretty good hitter. But Mickey was happy to see him anyway. Nice way to finish the first six innings, Mickey thought. Two great pitchers going at it like gladiators until the end.

Was this poetic justice, too? Mickey wasn’t sure. But it felt right.

Zoom went right at Kevin from the start. He blew a chest-high fastball past him. Kevin was fooled badly on Zoom’s second pitch, another fastball, and lifted a foul ball into the stands.

Oh-and-2. Things were looking good.

Kevin hit a sharp grounder to third. Hunter was positioned perfectly. He crouched and tapped his glove calmly and got ready to gather it in.

Mickey felt himself relax. We did it, he thought. Made it to extra innings.

Except…suddenly the ball took a bizarre hop and shot over Hunter’s shoulder.

It caught the back seam of the infield grass and squirted into foul territory in left field. Then it rolled around the fence for what seemed like an eternity as Spencer, who’d been playing deep with two outs, charged it.

Finally it died in the thick grass against two wooden slats.

By the time Spencer retrieved it, Kevin was flying past third base and heading for home. Spencer made a strong throw, a one-hopper that Mickey gloved just in front of the plate. Whirling around, he lunged and tagged Kevin on the thigh as he slid across the plate.

“SAFE!” the umpire cried.

Game over.

Final score: Yankees 2, Orioles 1.

The season was officially over.

As the Yankees poured out of their dugout to celebrate, with their fans storming the field, the Orioles looked on in shock. Then they filed quietly into their dugout and slumped on the bench with their heads hanging. Katelyn sat pale and seething in one corner.

For a long time, no one spoke.

Finally Zoom said softly, “Okay, this may sound weird. But that’s the most fun I ever had playing baseball.”

Mickey studied his pitcher for a moment. Was Zoom serious? Mickey could see that he was. Slowly the big catcher nodded in agreement. “Lots of crazy stuff happened, that’s for sure.”

“Like Moose getting bopped in the nose!” Sammy blurted.

“And his dad flipping out on the ump and doing the Mexican hat dance!” Hunter chimed in.

“And the stupid ball taking a crazy bounce over you!” Justin said. “Like someone had programmed it in a video game!”

The rest of the team started to perk up.

“A lot of good stuff happened, too,” Gabe said. “You pitched a great game, Z. Nine out of ten times, we’d get a win if you pitched like that.”

“How about Corey’s catch?” Ethan said. “That was money! Lays out in midair and snags that bad boy!”

“What about Mickey’s homer, nerds?” Katelyn said. They were happy to see the color return to her face.

“No, Moose’s was way better,” Mickey said. “That kid is strong! He may be a jerk, but he can send the ball a long way. Even with a Mr. Potato Head nose!”

By now the Orioles were laughing and trading fist bumps and talking excitedly about everything that had happened in the past two hours. By the time Mickey’s dad clambered down the steps, most of the postgame shock and gloom had lifted.

He held up his hands for quiet.

“Two things,” he said. “First, I’m so proud of you guys. I hope you remember this game for the rest of your lives. And second, I just finished talking with Coach Mayhew.”

The Orioles booed loudly.

“No, hear me out,” Mickey’s dad continued. “He said you guys played a great game and they were lucky to win. And get this: he said the Orioles were the best team the Yankees faced all season!”

The dugout erupted in cheers, drawing curious stares from the Yankees players and fans who were still mingling on the field.

One of the players was Moose. Face still puffy, he glared and pointed to the scoreboard.

“Whatever, Marvin,” Katelyn murmured. “And do something about that nose. You’re scaring people.”

The Orioles laughed and hooted and fist-bumped one another again, the noise sounding like the biggest party any of them had ever attended.

Mickey took in the raucous scene and smiled.

Zoom was right, he thought.

This was the best game ever. No matter what the scoreboard said.