“SORRY, COACH.” JOSH FROWNED and put on his most serious face. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just . . . I told you about that house. I really want to win it, or at least have a chance.”
“Twenty home runs is a lot. We only play thirty-two games.”
“I know.” Josh saw his opening. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Coach. See, I’m thinking that if you could move me up in the lineup—maybe the leadoff—that’d be the ideal thing. Then I’d get like twenty to thirty percent more at bats in fall ball. Thirty percent, that’d be huge in helping me—”
Josh fell silent at the sight of Coach Swanson’s hand raised in the air, signaling him to stop. The coach gritted his teeth and winced before he spoke. “See, the thing is, LeBlanc, I’m all about winning, right? Remember that part?”
“Sure, but I—”
Coach Swanson flashed his hand. “Before you say anything more, tell me this. Why did your dad have you batting fourth?”
“Well, it’s cleanup.”
“Yeah, what’s that mean?”
“I hit a lot of homers.” Josh couldn’t help feeling proud. “If the first three guys get on and I bang one, it’s more scoring. Is that what you mean?”
“Sure. It’s baseball 101.” Coach Swanson smiled painfully. “Your big hitters bat four and five. Your most consistent hitters are one, two, and three, to get into scoring position for the big bats. For us that’s Esch, Goldfarb, and Sheridan. I guess I’m just not sure why it is you’re coming to me with something like this. I guess I thought I was pretty clear about why I’m here. To win.”
“Yes, Coach.” Josh’s head dropped. “Sorry. I get it.” Even though he was sick to his stomach, Josh really did understand. The game came down to a bunch of little things that all added up. Everything was a calculation of the odds. Swinging at any pitch on a 3–0 count because odds were in your favor. Cheating over just a couple feet toward first against a left-handed batter. Things like that.
“Good,” Coach Swanson said. “Get some sleep. You’ll want to be rested so you can get as many home runs as you can . . . batting cleanup.”
“Okay, Coach.”
Josh returned to his room, watched a movie with Benji, and had another miserable night.
Jaden woke the two of them by rapping frantically on the door like a woodpecker. Benji had set the alarm for 6:30 p.m. instead of 6:30 a.m.
“Nice going, maestro.” Jaden sipped her orange juice in the middle of the dining room. “Lucky thing you two have me to help manage things.”
“Manage this.” Benji thumbed his nose.
Jaden ignored him and peered at Josh. “Not to be a total downer, but you look like somebody ran you through a washing machine without the soap.”
“I look better than I feel,” Josh said.
“Well, perk up.” Jaden tapped her spoon against her glass. “This is the day it begins. You’re on a quest. You’re like Frodo and Sam Gamgee.”
“Hobbits?” Benji raised his eyebrows and stuffed his mouth with sausage. “Josh is a warrior. He’s Aragorn, fighting for the survival of his entire race.”
“I feel like Gollum.” Nothing could bring Josh’s spirits up.
He rested his eyes on the bus ride to the fields. The day was gloomy, but the forecast and the tournament officials who checked them in promised the rain would hold off until nighttime, then pass right on through.
When he got off the bus, Martin leaned on his crutch on the curb, holding out his duffel bag. “Coach wants everyone’s phones in the bag. No distractions during the game.”
Josh turned in his phone, then marched inside with the team. He watched Jaden hand over the folder with everyone’s registration form as well as the matching birth certificate, which the tournament official examined before returning to her. When the official got to the last one, he looked around and asked, “Where’s the certificate for Jack Sheridan?”
Benji swelled up, looking ready to crow.
Jaden shrugged and shook her head, but before she could say anything Coach Swanson stepped forward and handed the official a large manila envelope. “Jack just moved up from North Carolina, and we had some issues finding the original birth certificate, but I’ve got it now.”
Benji’s mouth dropped open, and Josh had to admit he was also surprised.
The official nodded and accepted the envelope. He looked only briefly at the papers inside. “I see. Of course. The Titans are on field three against the Louisville Lions. Good luck.”
The team headed out of the field house and down the walkway to field three. Louisville was already there, warming up in their black-and-gold uniforms. The Titans looked almost harmless in their dark-blue shirts and white pants as they milled into the dugout and deposited their gear. The Lions’ pitcher was warming up on the mound. He had a sidearm release and some kind of crazy action on his ball that Josh had never seen before. It looked like the worst kind of pitch to try and knock out of the park.
“What are you thinking?” Jaden caught him staring from the dugout.
“That’s just a nasty pitch.” He nodded toward the mound.
“You can do it, Josh. You’re the best.”
“Maybe when the game gets going. I’m a gamer, right?” Josh looked into her green catlike eyes.
“You are a gamer, Josh; you’re the best young player anyone’s seen.” She had dropped her voice to nearly a whisper.
Josh felt a charge of adrenaline. It meant a lot for her to say that. In all the tumult, he’d forgotten that at the bottom of all this, he was an outstanding player. “Thanks.”
“Go get ’em.” She gave him a slap on the back, and Josh charged out onto the field.