JY MADE SOME SMALL TALK with Coach Allen about the Yankees season and the Bronxville team. He paused to listen before saying, “Yes, I am calling you about Jalen.”
He listened again and said, “It’s really something I need to discuss in person, if you don’t mind . . . .”
Jalen crossed his fingers and looked at Cat. She winked at him, confident.
“Great,” JY said. “How about the Ritz-Carlton in White Plains at noon? I’ll get a private room.”
Jalen and Cat slapped high fives with each other and then with Daniel.
“And, Coach,” JY said, “can you tell me if your team is practicing tonight? Oh, good. No, I’ll explain when I see you.”
The Yankees player hung up and grinned at Jalen. “Looks like you’ve got an appointment at Yankee Stadium tonight. The Calamari Kid is back. You all just check with your parents.”
“Are we going too?” Cat asked.
“I already got four seats set aside,” JY said. “Right there behind the on-deck circle. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?”
“Wow.” Daniel snapped his fingers. “We were so close last time I could tell what cologne Gardner had on.”
“That’s kind of weird,” Cat said in a pleasant tone.
“You’re weird,” Daniel said.
“Takes one to know one,” Cat replied.
“Who’s on the mound tonight for Houston?” Jalen asked.
“McCullers is supposed to start,” JY said.
All the numbers the young Astros pitcher had put up over the past couple of seasons popped into Jalen’s mind without effort. “Really a two-pitch guy, four-seam and a breaker, but he will throw the changeup—two years ago in his playoff game against the Royals, he threw it twelve percent of the time.”
Cat and Daniel looked at each other with open mouths.
JY chuckled and shook his head. “This is why I love stuffed calamari at the Silver Liner.”
They made their phone calls and hit some more balls before they cleaned up and climbed into JY’s Mercedes SUV, a black G55, with room for them all to stretch out on the trip to White Plains. When they pulled up to the hotel entrance, the doorman and valets instantly recognized JY. They straightened themselves and greeted him in hushed and somber voices.
“Good morning, Mr. Yager.”
“Welcome, Mr. Yager.”
“Do you need anything, Mr. Yager?”
Daniel popped the wad of gum he’d been chewing out of his mouth and turned to the doorman in his scarlet uniform and gold-braided cap. “Have you got a place I can put this?”
“Of course.” Without hesitation, the doorman handed him a tissue, which he then threw away.
Doors opened, and people stopped to stare as the little group, led by the famous baseball player, marched through the lobby, where more wide-eyed people wanted to know what they could do for James Yager.
Jalen ached to be like JY one day, not just an MLB player, but a famous player, one who everyone recognized and liked and wanted to be near, especially the mother who’d left him behind.
They went to the top floor and were seated at a round table in the corner of a grand suite by the windows. Waiters fluttered around the table like birds at a feeder, bringing water and bread, or just to steal a glimpse at James Yager. JY either didn’t notice or pretended not to. Jalen didn’t think he could ever grow used to, or tired of, the kind of special attention people gave to JY.
Coach Allen appeared, wearing a suit and tie and with his short gray hair slicked down and parted on the side. He looked taller and thinner than Jalen remembered. As he was escorted through the suite toward their table, Jalen saw that the coach hadn’t expected that three kids would be joining him and JY for lunch.
The two men shook hands, and then JY introduced Coach Allen to Cat and Daniel before saying, “And I know you’ve already met Jalen.”
Coach Allen nodded and sat down. They ordered right away because JY told the head waiter that he had to get to the stadium. Jalen and his friends sat quietly and watched as JY charmed the coach. The two of them talked a lot of baseball, and JY showed a special interest in Coach Allen’s baseball experience, which included four years on the Siena College team. Their food came, and Jalen sank his teeth into a hot pastrami sandwich. As the conversation between JY and Coach Allen dragged on, Jalen began to worry about why it was taking JY so long to get down to business, but Cat—who kept her eyes glued to the two men—seemed happy, and that gave him some comfort. Trying to be calm, he tackled the french fries.
Finally JY leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Dave, I need your help with something.”
Coach Allen blinked and sat up straight. “Of course. What can I do?”
“First of all,” JY said, “this is completely confidential. You have to promise you’ll keep this between us.”
Coach Allen studied the Yankees second baseman for a minute before he nodded. “Okay, I can promise that.”
“Good. So, Jalen and Daniel and Cat, they’ve been helping me.” JY nodded toward the three friends. “With my batting slump. I know it’s gonna sound strange—I can’t believe it myself sometimes—but Jalen can predict the kind of ball a pitcher is about to throw. He really can . . . .”
Both men looked at Jalen, and he tried to meet their gazes with a look of confidence, even though that wasn’t how he felt.
Coach Allen wore a crooked smile, and he looked around as if someone might be filming the scene before he turned to JY. “So, you’re kidding me here, right? I don’t get it.”
“No.” JY shook his head once. “I’m not kidding. I’m being serious, and I need your help now too.”
“He knows every pitch?” Coach Allen asked, obviously confused.
“Yeah,” JY said, “just about. It took me a bit to accept it too. It’s kind of unreal. Then I had him show Derek Jeter. We went to his place to watch a game together, and Derek was like, ‘Hey, the kid’s for real. Go for it.’ That’s when I knew I wasn’t losing my mind. The rest—as they say—is history.”
“You are serious!” Coach Allen looked out the window into the distance for a few moments, considering. Then he said, “Umm, okay, what do you need me to do?”
Jalen grinned at his friends and let go a deep breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
JY put a hand on the coach’s shoulder. “I need you to let these guys play on your team, and I may need some help with Jalen missing a practice here or there if I have to have him help me at the stadium.”
“Oh, gosh. I see.” Coach Allen’s face turned red. “Look, I’d really love to do that for you . . . but I can’t.”