Coach Ray Hammond had no ego. Or so it seemed to the Orioles, and they liked that about him. Unlike some other coaches in the league, Coach didn’t act like every game was the seventh game of the World Series and only his managerial genius was keeping his team from a certain loss and utter humiliation. In fact, whenever the parents of the Orioles congratulated him and told him what a great job he was doing, Coach would shake his head and point to the players and say, “Nah, it’s not me. They deserve all the credit.”

Now, with the Orioles’ record at 12–0 and his team one win away from competing for the championship, Coach told them his philosophy: Please don’t let me screw this up. With the Orioles playing so well, he was determined to keep them loose. Yes, he wanted them to focus on their next play-off game against the Twins and their great pitching. But more than anything, he wanted them to enjoy what they had accomplished to date. And he also wanted them to have fun.

So, when the Orioles gathered for practice on a humid Wednesday afternoon when there was no school—due to a teachers’ conference—Coach greeted them with this announcement: “Men, I know this will break your hearts, but no drills today. Today we’re playing an intra-squad game. You guys choose up sides. Make ’em fair. I’ll pitch for both teams.”

As the Orioles cheered and began talking excitedly about who would be on each team, Coach held up his hand for quiet. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, grinning. “Trash talk is not only encouraged, it’s mandatory. Just keep it clean.”

What followed was seventy-five minutes of barely controlled chaos. Cody quickly decided it was probably the most fun he’d ever had playing baseball in his whole life. They played with six players on a side, positioned wherever they wanted to position themselves. Coach let the players run their own game. He wouldn’t even call balls and strikes, or “safe” or “out” on the bases. The Orioles had to work it out for themselves.

“This is what baseball was like when I was growing up!” Coach shouted at one point.

“That was around when, the Civil War?” Willie yelled. Coach waggled a finger at him and flashed an okay-you-got-me smile.

“Point is,” he said, “it was before adults became over-involved and started screwing things up!”

The four-inning game between Willie’s Wildmen and Jordy’s Jammers was a hoot. Each time a player whiffed on one of Coach’s slow, tantalizing curveballs or let a ground ball roll through his legs in the field, he was ragged unmercifully. Yet amid all the hooting and hollering, there were great plays: Connor going deep in the hole at short to backhand a grounder and nip Yancy at first; a diving catch of a sinking line drive by Dante; a soaring home run by Jordy high enough to draw rain.

But the highlight, everyone agreed, was the comical sight of Marty chugging around the bases on a disputed triple—it was later ruled a single and a two-base error by Gabe—before collapsing in an exhausted heap after what was possibly the ugliest slide in the history of organized baseball.

“There are glaciers that travel faster than that boy!” Willie said.

Marty, flopping and gasping in the dirt, responded with a single word: “Oxygen!”

Nobody knew who won the game or what the final score was. And nobody seemed to care, either. When it was over, Coach gathered his still-giddy players in front of the dugout and told them to settle down.

“Uh-oh, fun’s over,” Marty murmured. “Coach’s got his game face on. We could be here a while.”

But Coach kept his remarks short and sweet.

“Now it’s time to start thinking about the Twins,” he said. “They’re a good team. Their pitching is excellent. It won’t be an easy game. Be here early Friday so we get in some good batting practice and infield.”

As the Orioles gathered up their gear and Cody changed out of his spikes, a voice behind him said, “Perfect timing.”

It was Jessica. She was wearing her red-and-white softball uniform, with her bat slung over her shoulder and her glove dangling from the knob. Cody grinned and quickly glanced around for Dante. The sight of Cody and Jessica together would probably have the big dude vibrating like a gong. But Dante had already left.

Jessica plopped down on the bench beside Cody, took off her cap, and began fanning herself.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“We just finished practice on the other field,” Jessica said, breaking into a mischievous smile. “How did I do? Thought you’d never ask. Hit three homers in batting practice. Fielded my position flawlessly, as usual. And catcher, as you know, is only the most critical position in softball. So all in all, I’d say, pretty typical practice for blondie here.”

Cody rolled his eyes. One thing was for sure: Jessica was never at a loss for words when she was competing in sports. He could definitely see her becoming a lawyer someday. Possibly by the age of fourteen, if they’d let her take the bar exam.

“Anyway, you’re coming with me, Wisconsin Boy,” she said now.

He looked up from tying his shoes. “But my mom is picking me—”

“All taken care of,” Jessica said. “I called earlier. Both your mom and my mom said we could walk home. Today I’m introducing you to another Maryland culinary tradition.”

She glanced up at the broiling sun and began fanning herself even more furiously. “Perfect day for it too,” she said, rising to her feet. “You’re in for a real treat. Follow me.”

Cody slung his equipment bag over his shoulder, and they set off in the direction of town. As they walked, he told Jessica all about the raucous practice the Orioles had just had, and Jessica told him about one of her teammates, Amanda, who’d been hit in the face with a bad-hop ground ball in the middle of their practice.

“She started crying!” Jessica said, shaking her head. “And all the other girls are around her, going ‘Awww, poor Amanda, are you okay, babe?’ Can you believe that?”

Cody started to answer. Then a tiny alarm bell went off in his head. Better not say anything. Let’s see where this is going.

“It made me want to puke!” Jessica continued. “So I used that famous line from that old movie. You know the one: ‘There’s no crying in baseball’? And now all the other girls are like, ‘Jessica, how can you say that? Don’t you have any feelings? Can’t you see she’s upset?’ Which made me want to puke even more.”

Cody thought, I feel sorry for any softball that hits Jessica in the face. She’d probably bite the ball in half and swallow it.

After about ten minutes, they turned a corner and Jessica said, “Ah, here we are.” It was a small wooden stand tucked back under a grove of trees, with picnic tables and patio umbrellas out front. A sign in front said: OASIS SNOWBALLS.

“The legendary Baltimore snowballs,” Cody said, grinning. “Shaved ice and flavored syrup, right? I’ve heard a lot about them.”

“Prepare to be wowed,” Jessica said, pulling a ten-dollar bill from her pocket. “Pick a flavor. My treat.”

The list of flavors was endless. Cody finally settled on black cherry. Jessica ordered something called Skylite, which turned out to be a neon-blue concoction she said tasted like raspberry—well, sort of. They sat in the shade, spooning the icy treats from plastic cups. Cody wondered if he had ever tasted anything so delicious in his life.

If you liked to eat, he thought, there were a lot worse places to live than Maryland.

When they were finished, they tossed their cups in the trash and said good-bye to the teenage girl behind the counter. It was then that something in the strip mall across the street caught Cody’s eye. A battered green Jeep was pulled all the way around to the side of the parking lot, right up against the woods. The Jeep looked familiar. The rear hatch was open and a half-dozen young men were peering at whatever was inside. Occasionally, they glanced nervously over their shoulders.

The driver’s door opened and a dark-haired boy of about eighteen got out. Then another dark-haired boy emerged from the passenger side.

“Hold on a minute,” Cody said quietly, his eyes never leaving the Jeep. “I need to check something out.”