Trophy Night Read online

  To Matt, Rich, and our team who helped make this series possible.

  Thank you.

  —R.H. & K.H.

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  LETTER

  CHAPTER 1: THE TROPHY SHELF

  CHAPTER 2: BASES LOADED

  CHAPTER 3: BELLA’S BIG SECRET

  CHAPTER 4: LOOKING BACK

  CHAPTER 5: A CRUCIAL INJURY

  CHAPTER 6: RISING PRESSURE

  CHAPTER 7: ERROR TERROR?

  CHAPTER 8: “PLAY BALL!”

  CHAPTER 9: SIX RUNS DOWN

  CHAPTER 10: MANY VALUABLE PLAYERS

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  COPYRIGHT

  * * *

  Dear Reader,

  There are many different ways to earn a trophy. Whether it’s from playing sports, working hard at school, or lending a helping hand in your community, receiving a trophy can be a very exciting moment. It represents hard work, dedication, and effort you put in to whatever you are trying to accomplish.

  My favorite award that I’ve won is my World Series trophy. I dreamed of winning the World Series as a kid. It’s the pinnacle of playing baseball, and it takes a total team effort. It makes everything you have worked so hard for worth it—all the years of practice and training, minor league games, and major league seasons. My teammates and I will cherish that win for the rest of our lives. The coolest part is that we did it together.

  I hope that each and every one of you gets a chance to experience earning a “World Series” trophy. Continue to be honest, be kind, be responsible, show effort, and work as hard as you can for yourself and the people around you. Have fun along the way and a trophy can soon be in your hands to enjoy and appreciate.

  * * *

  Rhino ran his fingers over the letters on the trophy: MVP.

  Most Valuable Player. The shiny metal baseball player was frozen in mid-swing at the top of the trophy. He’s smacking a home run, Rhino thought.

  Rhino had hit quite a few homers for the Mustangs. He’d been having a great baseball season. But the trophy wasn’t his. It belonged to his brother, C.J., from two years ago.

  Rhino’s first baseball season was nearing its end. He hoped he’d soon be bringing home a trophy like C.J.’s.

  MVP of this league. Then record-setting home-run hitter in middle school. Player of the Year in high school and college. Then the Major Leagues. The All-Star Game! The World Series! World Series champions!

  Rhino admired the trophy again, feeling the smooth metal.

  “Making room for my new one?” C.J. said with a laugh as he entered the living room. Rhino and his older brother looked a lot alike, but C.J. was taller and more muscular. They both had a quick smile.

  “Or mine,” Rhino said. He set the trophy back on the ledge, between C.J.’s championship basketball and soccer trophies.

  Grandpa James had set up a shelf in the living room and filled it with all of their awards. Rhino spent a lot of time looking at the various trophies and plaques they had collected as a family.

  “Here’s the most important one yet,” said Grandpa James, following C.J. into the room. He held C.J.’s latest award—a third-place plaque from the middle-school science fair. Sports were very important in Grandpa James’s house, but school and learning always came first. C.J.’s prizewinning poster about Jupiter’s moons had taken a lot of brainwork. He’d stayed up late several nights researching the facts, and then he carefully drew the moons circling the giant planet.

  “That’s quite a lineup of awards,” Grandpa said, placing his hand on Rhino’s shoulder. “And there will be one for you soon. Every player in your baseball league gets a trophy for taking part.”

  Rhino nodded, but just “taking part” wasn’t enough for him. He wanted a trophy for best hitter, or all-star first baseman, or most home runs. And another one for winning the championship. The Mustangs had hit a rough stretch and lost their two most recent games, but they could wrap up a spot in the playoffs by winning their final regular-season game this weekend. From there, they’d have a shot at the title.

  C.J. pointed to an older trophy behind the others. “There’s Grandpa’s league championship award from high school basketball,” he said. “That’s a big-time trophy.”

  “We won that game on a last-second shot,” Grandpa said. “I grabbed a rebound, gave a quick fake, then dished the ball to my teammate. He scored at the buzzer.”

  Everybody in this family has won major sports awards, Rhino thought. Except me. His only contribution to the table was a blue ribbon from the school talent show. He’d performed with two of his teammates and won first prize, but most of that credit belonged to Carlos, the singer in the Mustang Rock band. Rhino had helped Carlos gain enough confidence to use his great singing voice in the talent show.

  Rhino’s thinker told him not to worry. He’d earn a sports trophy soon.

  “Little Rhino, you should hear more about how C.J. earned that MVP trophy,” Grandpa said.

  “For being the star of your team, right?” Rhino asked.

  Grandpa shrugged. “He was a star, but . . . were you the best hitter on that team, C.J.?”

  C.J. shook his head. “Bobby had a higher batting average.”

  “And you didn’t hit the most home runs, did you?”

  C.J. laughed. “I didn’t hit any home runs that season. I wasn’t as strong then as Rhino is now.”

  Rhino found that hard to believe. C.J. was so strong. He’d hit a lot of homers this year for his middle-school team.

  “Seems to me you weren’t the star pitcher either,” Grandpa said. “But you did many things well, C.J. The best thing you did was support your teammates. You were the team leader. You always had a positive voice with everybody, whether they hit a home run or struck out.”

  I do that, too, Rhino thought. Maybe I am an MVP.

  “Of course, he was an excellent player, too,” Grandpa said. “But there a lot of things that go into being an MVP.”

  They celebrated C.J.’s science award with Grandpa’s spaghetti and meatballs, then ice cream for dessert. Rhino scooped out the chocolate chip ice cream and drizzled it with chocolate syrup. He added a fresh strawberry to the top of the pile. It looks a little like a trophy, Rhino thought. He imagined his coach handing him a huge baseball trophy—just like C.J.’s but a foot taller. The lettering said PLAYER OF THE YEAR.

  “What are you waiting for?” C.J. asked. “Your dessert will melt.”

  Rhino nodded. He took a big spoonful and grinned. “I was just thinking,” he said. “Hopefully soon we’ll have a celebration dinner for me.”

  Rhino smacked his hand into his glove and eyed the runner at first base. “Let’s turn two!” he called to the infielders. A turn two would be a double play that ends the inning and maintains the Mustangs’ one-run lead.

  It had been a wild game, with the Wolves taking a 2–0 lead back in the first inning before there were any outs. But Dylan had settled down for the Mustangs and struck out three batters in a row. Then the Mustangs stormed back with four runs in the bottom of the first inning, including an RBI double by Rhino.

  The lead seesawed back and forth for several innings. In the top of the fifth, Rhino led off with a walk, stole two bases, and scored from third on a wild pitch. That gave the Mustangs a 7–6 lead.

  “Come on, Dylan!” called Rhino’s teammates. “Strike this guy out!”

  The batter sent a bouncing rocket up the middle, skimming past Dylan’s glove. Cooper darted over from shortstop and snagged the ball. He flipped it to Carlos at second base for an out.

  Rhino’s eyes widened as Carlos’s throw to first soared too high. With the batter storming toward the base, Rhino leaped, knocking the ball down with the tip o
f his glove. The ball skipped into right field, but Rhino ran after it, and the runner did not try for second.

  “Two outs,” Rhino called as he flipped the ball to Dylan. He held up two fingers and waved to his teammates.

  The day was hot. Rhino wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand and pulled his cap into place. He wanted a drink of water. “Let’s end this inning!” he yelled.

  Falling behind this late in the game would mean trouble. If the Mustangs lost, their season would be over.

  I like baseball too much to let that happen, Rhino thought. I wish we could play all summer!

  Rhino had studied the league standings before the game. With a win, the Mustangs’ final record would be eight wins and four losses. That would put them in a tie for second place. But a loss today would drop their record to 7-5—in a tie for fourth with the Wolves. Since only four teams would make the playoffs, the final spot would go to the Wolves based on today’s result.

  The runner at first base took a big lead. Rhino knew that the kid was fast. He could score from first on a double.

  Dylan wound up and threw a fastball.

  Whack! The ball sped toward right field. Rhino dove, leaving his feet and stretching as far as he could go. He grabbed the line drive, rolling in the grass and squeezing the ball tight. He held up his glove.

  “Out!” called the umpire.

  Rhino smiled. His teammates cheered as they ran to the dugout.

  “Super catch!” said Bella, running in from right field. She grabbed Rhino’s hand and helped him to his feet. “That ball would have reached the fence. He hit it so hard it might have smashed through it!”

  The Mustangs had the top of their batting order coming up: Cooper, Bella, and Dylan. Rhino would bat fourth—the cleanup hitter—as long as someone got on base.

  “Big inning!” Rhino said. “Let’s wrap this up.” He was puffing from excitement. Making that catch had been a thrill.

  Rhino took a long swig of water. “How’s your arm?” he asked Dylan. “You’ve thrown a lot of pitches today.”

  “I’m fine,” Dylan replied, staring out at the field. Dylan was never very friendly, but he and Rhino had grown to respect each other as teammates. “The hot weather keeps me loose.”

  Cooper popped the ball into left field behind the shortstop. It looked like an easy out. But the shortstop and the left fielder both ran toward it, then stopped when they saw each other, thinking the other player was going to catch it. The ball fell softly to the grass between them, and Cooper reached first base with a single.

  Bella made a perfect bunt down the third-base line, moving Cooper to second. Better yet, she beat the catcher’s throw to first.

  “Way to hustle, Bella!” Rhino called.

  Two on, no outs.

  “Bring them home, Dylan,” Rhino said, stepping into the on-deck circle. He took a few easy swings. Cause if you don’t, I will, Rhino’s thinker said.

  The Wolves’ coach called time-out and walked to the mound. He spoke to the pitcher for a minute, then waved to the third baseman. “Pitching change,” the coach called to the umpire. The third baseman and the pitcher switched positions.

  Dylan walked over to Rhino as the new pitcher warmed up. “This guy’s in my gym class at school, so I’ve seen him pitch.” Dylan whispered. “He’s even wilder than that first pitcher. If he can’t find the strike zone, I’ll get a walk.”

  Rhino nodded. Dylan’s guess was right. The pitcher managed just one strike.

  “Ball four!” the umpire called. “Take your base.”

  Dylan trotted to first, and Cooper and Bella moved up. The bases were loaded.

  The rest of the Mustangs rattled the dugout fence as Rhino stepped up. Rhino was a power hitter—he’d hit more home runs than anyone in the league.

  “A walk’s as good as a hit,” Carlos called from outside the dugout. He’d be up next.

  Be patient, Rhino told himself. Carlos is right. Cooper would score if Rhino drew a walk.

  But we’ll all score if I hit it out of the park, he thought.

  “Strike one!” was the call as the first pitch zipped past.

  “That’s it, Larry!” yelled the catcher. He threw the ball back. “He just needed to find his groove,” the catcher said, mostly to himself.

  Rhino glanced down at the catcher, then gripped the bat tighter.

  The second pitch was high and outside. Rhino watched it go past.

  “Good eye!” Carlos called. “Wait for your pitch.”

  Rhino took a quick look at the three base runners. All were taking short leads off the bases, leaning forward and ready to run. Rhino dug his toe into the dirt.

  The next pitch looked perfect—waist-high and fast. BAM! Rhino’s swing was hard but smooth. Nothing ever felt better than the bat meeting the ball and sending it soaring. Rhino knew it was gone the second he hit it. Bye-bye baseball, he thought. He dropped the bat and sprinted toward first base, watching the ball fly deep over the center fielder’s head.

  A grand slam home run!

  Rhino felt like he was dreaming as he ran around the bases. Cooper, Bella, and Dylan waited at home plate, patting his back and yelling as he scored.

  He slapped hands with Carlos as he walked by. “Way to go,” Carlos said. “You just put this game out of reach.”

  I sure hope so, Rhino thought. The Wolves would bat one more time. In a wild game like this one, anything could happen.

  Carlos hit a single, but that was the end of the rally. The Mustangs took the field with an 11–6 lead.

  Dylan seemed as strong as ever. Just as in the first inning, he struck out three batters in a row. Game over.

  The Mustangs were in the playoffs!

  What a great season,” Coach Ray said as the players gathered in the dugout after the game. “I couldn’t be prouder of this team. You’ve been good sports whether we win or lose, and you’ve worked hard at your baseball skills. So I’m very glad that we’ll be playing an extra game or two in the playoffs.”

  Dylan raised his hand. “Do we get trophies if we win the championship?”

  “Yes,” Coach said. “But let’s not be too concerned about that. First of all, the playoffs are a chance to have more fun.”

  “But we want to win!” Bella said. “Right, Dad?”

  Coach Ray laughed and patted his daughter’s head. “And since you’re wondering about trophies, there will be a few special team awards at the end of the season. Best Pitcher, Best Hitter, Best Fielder, and Most Improved Player.”

  Why not Most Valuable Player? Rhino thought. Dylan was probably the best pitcher on the team. He and Cooper usually alternated as pitcher and shortstop. Rhino didn’t pitch, so he wouldn’t win that award.

  Best Hitter? Rhino was the most powerful hitter, but Cooper and Dylan both had higher batting averages. Not by much, though. So Rhino had a chance to win that one. Rhino hoped Dylan wouldn’t win two awards. Dylan was a great player and he’d become a better teammate, but he was a big-mouthed bully to the other players early in the season—he was even a bully to Rhino.

  Too bad there isn’t a sportsmanship award, Rhino thought. He would probably win that. He always played fair and supported his teammates. And he was the first one in line to congratulate the other team after a game, no matter which team won.

  Was Rhino the Mustangs’ best fielder? He’d made a few errors this season, but so had everybody else. First base was a tough position. He had to handle lots of batted balls, and throws from all over the field. So he might be the best fielder, but it was hard to say.

  All of the Mustangs had improved a lot over the season. Rhino had become a better hitter and a better first baseman. But he’d been pretty good right from the start. Some of the other players improved a lot more, even if they weren’t as good as Rhino yet.

  Don’t worry about the awards, his thinker told him. Just keep playing hard and have fun. There’s nothing more that I can do.

  Still, a special award would be great. Especia
lly after such a successful season. Rhino was a little disappointed that none of the awards sounded like a perfect match for him. But then he remembered Grandpa’s “three second” rule. He could be sad or angry about something for three seconds, but then it was time to look on the bright side. Like that major grand slam he’d just hit!

  “Our first playoff game is in three days,” Coach said. “Cooper will pitch. We’ll be playing against the Groundhogs. They’re tough, as you know.”

  The Groundhogs had defeated the Mustangs a couple of weeks before. The Mustangs won the other time they’d faced each other, so the teams were evenly matched.

  Grandpa James was waiting for Rhino when he left the dugout. Rhino hugged him. He was already thinking about the playoffs, not the awards.

  “We’ve got our momentum back,” Rhino said. “We sure needed that win. And I need something else!”

  “Let me guess—you’re hungry,” Grandpa said with a laugh.

  “Hungry and thirsty,” Rhino replied. “That was a long, hard game.”

  “What will it be?” Grandpa asked. “A hot dog from the refreshment stand or a PB&J at home?”

  “I could eat both,” Rhino said. A hot dog sounded delicious. “Let’s start here.”

  * * *

  Rhino squeezed some yellow mustard onto his hot dog and took a bite. Bella waved to Rhino and walked over to the picnic table.

  “Is that the secret to your strength?” Bella asked, pointing to the hot dog. “Wish I could knock one over the fence like you do.”

  Rhino blushed. “I don’t eat many hot dogs,” he said. “Just on special occasions. I think my secret is Grandpa’s cooking.”

  “I’ve got a secret, too,” Bella said. “Something we’re cooking up for the big awards dinner after the playoffs. I’ll tell you about it Monday at school.”

  “What do I have to do?” Rhino asked.

  “Oh, nothing hard. A little skit or something. You’ll see.”

  “Just don’t make me dance,” Rhino said with a grin. Bella and her friend Ariana performed as a dance team at the school talent show. “I dance about as well as you hit home runs. In other words, I don’t.”