On Monday, Matt rejoined the lunch table, as did Christine, and it felt like old times to Alex. He and Christine hadn’t had time for any kind of serious talk since their Stark’s lunch a week earlier, but she had been noticeably warmer to him since then, even making a point of complimenting him after French class one day when he had smoothly—for him—recited a fairly lengthy passage from The Three Musketeers.
Matt was his old self during lunch, talking about how Chester Heights stacked up in the conference after the loss to King of Prussia. “Those twins are all stars, but I hear the only good pitcher they have is the guy who pitched on Friday—Anderson,” he said. “They aren’t going to go undefeated. No one will. We’ll get another shot at them.”
“Do we have more than one good pitcher?” Alex asked.
“ ’Course we do, Goldie,” Matt answered. “You had a bad day. It happens. Did you see what happened to Vince Velasquez yesterday?”
Alex had seen that Velasquez, the Phillies’ best starter, had been knocked out by the Nationals in four innings on Saturday—largely because Bryce Harper had homered twice off him.
“Maybe Velasquez went easy on Harper, as requested,” Christine said.
“Yeah, right,” Matt said. “Point is, if Vince Velasquez can give up six runs in four innings, it can happen to a high school kid.”
“Bryce Harper is a little better than the King of Prussia hitters,” Jonas countered.
“I don’t know,” Alex said. “Those twins were pretty good.”
They all laughed, and Alex felt as relaxed as he had in a long time. That feeling lasted all the way through Monday’s practice, where he worked on his slider and felt like he was getting more consistent with it, and all the way through the start of the game at Haverford Station the next day. With Matt on the mound, the Lions were a different team. The opposition was different too. No one in Haverford Station’s lineup resembled the Herman twins in any way, shape, or form.
Matt retired the first eight hitters before issuing a walk to Haverford Station’s catcher, the number nine hitter in the lineup. The walk came on a 3–2 pitch that Matt thought was a strike. Even from left field, Alex could hear him shout “Really?” at the umpire as he came down off the mound to take Lucas Mann’s toss back to him.
Okay, Alex thought, let’s not start this again. Matt must have had the same thought because he took the return throw and walked back onto the mound without another word. By then, Chester Heights had a 2–0 lead, thanks to Alex, Matt, and Jonas. Alex had singled with one out in the first, and Matt had promptly doubled to the left-center field gap. Running all the way, Alex had scored. Jonas then poked a single up the middle to score Matt.
Alex’s sense was that the two runs would be enough, but in the bottom of the fifth, Cardillo walked, Alex walked, and then Matt hit a long home run to left to make it 5–0.
The only real suspense at that point was whether Matt would finish off his no-hitter this time. He walked two more hitters in the fifth but ended the inning by striking out the catcher, whom he had walked earlier. It was his ninth strikeout of the day.
In the bottom of the sixth, Haverford Station’s leadoff man, Eddie Kenworthy—Alex didn’t know his name until later—took a called first strike. Then, with the infield playing back, he squared and pushed a perfect bunt between the mound and third base.
Caught by surprise, Matt bounced off the mound, picked the ball up, and turned to throw in one motion. But his back leg slipped, and he threw wildly to first. There was little doubt that Kenworthy would have beaten the throw even if it had been perfect. With the wild throw, he ended up on second. Alex heard the PA announcer say, “That is a single and an E-1.” E-1 meant an error on the pitcher—Matt.
As the next hitter stepped into the box, Matt stood on the back of the mound, hands on hips, staring at Kenworthy, who was standing with one foot on second base.
“You’re down five–nothing and you bunt just to try to break up a no-hitter?” Matt said, loudly enough that Alex could hear him from his position in shallow left field.
Kenworthy spread his hands and said, “I’m on second base, pal.”
“Yeah, because you’re playing —— baseball,” Matt said, using a word that was very much banned in the Myers household.
The second base umpire moved between the two players, pointed a finger at Matt, and said, “That’s enough, son. Get up on the mound and pitch.”
Matt paused for a moment, nodded, and went back onto the pitching rubber. Alex breathed a sigh of relief.
Billy Twardzik stepped in. Twardzik was the only Haverford Station player Alex knew. He was the Hornets’ best basketball player by far, and he and Alex had become semifriendly during their two basketball games that winter.
Twardzik had come the closest of anyone to getting a hit off of Matt prior to the Kenworthy bunt, hitting a long fly ball that Jonas ran down in deep center field. Now he stepped in, waving the bat, wanting to get Kenworthy home.
He never got the chance.
Matt’s first pitch was a rising fastball that went straight at Twardzik’s head. From where Alex was standing, it looked as if Twardzik was just a tad slow trying to duck. No doubt, given Matt’s pinpoint control most of the day, he was surprised to see a pitch heading right for him. Alex heard the thunk of the ball hitting the side of Twardzik’s head. He was wearing a batting helmet that protected his ear, but it appeared the pitch had caught him just below the flap. He went down as if he had been shot, his face in the dirt, arms outstretched.
He twitched briefly and then stopped moving. Alex felt his heart go into his throat. He knew instantly that this was serious. Very serious.
Lucas Mann and the umpire were the first ones to get to Twardzik, with Matt right behind. The Haverford Station dugout emptied, and Alex wasn’t sure if it was to see how badly Twardzik was hurt or to go after Matt. There was no doubt in Alex’s mind that Matt had thrown at Twardzik in retaliation for Kenworthy bunting to break up the no-hitter.
While the coach leaned over Twardzik, Alex could hear several players yelling “Are you crazy?”—and a number of other things that weren’t nearly as polite—at Matt.
Alex saw everyone leaving the Chester Heights dugout and the rest of his teammates heading in the direction of the plate. He began running in too, if only because that’s what everyone else was doing. As he reached the infield, he heard the Haverford Station coach say, “We need a doctor!”
A couple of people began heading down from the stands in response. The scene was chaotic, with several Lions holding off several Hornets who were trying to get at Matt.
“It was an accident!” Matt was yelling. “I didn’t mean to hit him in the head!”
“You threw at him on purpose!” Alex heard Kenworthy say. He had rushed in from second base, only to be cut off by Jeff Cardillo before he could get to Matt. “Your control’s been spot-on all day—you did that on purpose!”
Before Matt could answer, one of the doctors who had come out of the stands and was now leaning over Twardzik pulled out her phone.
“I’m calling 911,” she said. “He’s still out. Best case, he’s going to have a serious concussion.”
“And worst case?” Alex heard the Haverford Station coach ask.
“I honestly don’t know,” she said. “But we need to get him to the hospital—”
She broke off. “This is Dr. Elaine Somers,” she said into her phone. “We have an emergency on the baseball field behind Haverford Station High School.”
She paused for a second. “Yes. Player knocked unconscious.”
She nodded and clicked off the call. “They said five minutes. Meanwhile, let’s turn him on his back—gently. He’ll breathe easier that way.”
A couple of the Hornets leaned down and gingerly turned their teammate first onto his side and then onto his back.
A second doctor had now arrived, carrying a black bag that Alex assumed he had gone to his car to retrieve.
“Let me check his vitals,” he said to Dr. Somers. She nodded and moved aside.
Everyone had stopped yelling and pushing and shoving and was now watching the two doctors. The call to 911 had made it clear that this wasn’t the time for a fight.
“His pulse is fine—strong, actually,” the doctor announced.
Alex could see a trickle of blood coming out of Twardzik’s ear and from his cheek.
The doctor did some more checking. “He’s breathing okay. A little labored but steady.”
Alex heard a siren in the distance. Jonas was standing next to him. He noticed that Steve Garland and Christine, who he knew had been watching from the press box, were now standing a few yards away. There were also a couple of TV cameras recording the scene. No one seemed inclined to tell them to stop.
“Man,” Jonas said softly. “What in the world was Matt thinking?”
“He wasn’t thinking,” Alex hissed back.
He glanced over at Matt. He still had a wall of teammates between him and the Hornets, but the shouting had stopped. Matt had his cap off, and it looked to Alex like he was staring into space.
The siren grew louder. A moment later, an ambulance came around the end of the bleachers and down the left field line. The two coaches yelled for everyone to clear some space, and players from both teams hustled out of the way as it pulled up. Two men jumped out of the back and quickly removed a stretcher. The driver also came around.
“Who’s the doctor here?” he said.
“I made the call,” Dr. Somers said. “It was Dr. Allynson who checked his vitals.”
The driver looked at Dr. Allynson. “What’ve you got?” he said.
“Hit in the head with a pitch about seven minutes ago,” the doctor said. “He’s still out, but his breathing is okay and his heart’s very strong.”
The two men with the stretcher were now both kneeling next to Twardzik. Alex couldn’t see exactly what they were doing, but he heard one of them say, “He’s coming out of it a little bit. Let’s get him up and moving ASAP.”
They lowered the stretcher down to the ground and gently moved Twardzik onto it. Alex could see that his eyes were open now, but they looked glassy and unfocused.
“Who wants to go with him?” the driver said. “We can take one adult in the back of the ambulance.”
“I’ll go,” Haverford Station’s coach said. “What hospital we going to? I want to call his parents.”
“Penn,” the driver said. “It’s closest and the best.”
The Haverford Station coach looked at Coach Birdy while the two EMTs were wheeling the stretcher to the back of the ambulance.
“Al, what should we do?” he asked.
“We’ll figure it out later,” Coach Birdy said. “I don’t know what to say, Rod. I’m sorry. Anything we can do to help at all, just let me know.”
Rod nodded and jogged over to the ambulance.
Coach Birdy turned to the home plate umpire. “Obviously, we aren’t playing any more baseball today,” he said.
The umpire nodded. “I’ll leave all decisions on how to proceed to the schools and the conference,” he said. “If you do resume the game, though, your pitcher is ejected.”
“I know that,” Coach Birdy said. “I’ll deal with all that.”
The ambulance was pulling away, siren blaring. A lot of people had now come out of the stands.
There was little conversation between the two teams. Alex finally walked over to Matt.
“What happened?” he asked, knowing his tone was incredulous.
“I lost my mind,” Matt said. “For one second, I lost my mind. And look what I’ve done.”
He had tears in his eyes. “What have I done?”
Alex didn’t know the answer to that one.