The Away Game Read online

  The Mustangs gathered in the dugout. Coach Ray read off the positions and batting order:

  1) Cooper P

  2) Bella RF

  3) Dylan SS

  4) Rhino 1B

  5) Manny LF

  6) Carlos 2B

  8) Paul CF

  7) Sara 3B

  9) Gabe C

  “Hands in,” Coach said.

  “One … two … three … Mustangs!”

  Everyone cheered as the Mustangs trotted to their positions. Cooper fired some warm-up pitches. Rhino tossed the ball around the horn.

  The curly-haired Charger who pitched yesterday swung a bat near home plate, watching Cooper. He’d be leading off.

  Rhino took a deep breath.

  “Batter up!” called the umpire.

  Play ball, Rhino thought.

  It was not a good start.

  Rhino stood tensed, a few feet from first base, ready to dodge either way to field the ball or race to the bag for a throw.

  Cooper went into his windup. The pitch was a blur—fast and straight.

  Thwack!

  Rhino knew as soon as he heard it. Good-bye, baseball!

  The ball streaked over the left field fence on a line drive. One pitch. One run.

  Rhino nodded to the kid as he rounded first base. Then he jogged to the mound.

  “No problem,” Rhino said, patting Cooper’s shoulder. “You got the bad pitch out of the way. Now shut them down.”

  Cooper wiped his forehead with his glove and kicked at the dirt. “It was a good pitch,” he muttered.

  “Good for him,” Rhino said with a smirk. He trotted back to first base.

  “Okay, Cooper, let’s go!” shouted Bella.

  “You’re the man!” called Carlos. “We’ve got you covered.”

  But Cooper was rattled. He walked the next two batters. Coach Ray called for time and walked to the mound.

  Rhino came over again, too.

  “Feel okay?” Coach asked.

  Cooper nodded. “I do.”

  “Just find the plate,” Rhino said. “Forget about that home run. He’s their best player. These other guys are just regular.”

  Cooper blew his breath out hard. “I’m okay,” he said again.

  He struck out the next two batters, then gave up a single that scored a second run.

  “Let’s get those runs back!” Rhino said when the Mustangs went to the dugout. “Starting with you, Coop.”

  The Chargers’ pitcher was hard to read. He threw a mix of fastballs and sinkers, with a few curveballs, too. Cooper and Bella struck out before Dylan was back at the plate again to launch a fly ball that bounced off the left-field fence. He cruised into second easily.

  “Bring him in, Rhino,” Carlos yelled.

  Fastball, low and inside.

  “Strike one!”

  Another fastball, even lower.

  “Ball!”

  The next pitch came in slower, and it dropped before the plate. It hopped past the catcher, and Rhino stepped back. Dylan ran toward third and dove ahead of the throw.

  “Safe!”

  Rhino was ahead in the count: two balls and a strike. This is the one, he thought.

  He never lost sight of the next pitch, and met it with a powerful swing. The ball rolled straight up the middle for a clean single. Dylan scored. The Mustangs were back in the game.

  But the Chargers scored two more in the second and another in the third. This game was nothing like the day before. After Rhino doubled to drive in Cooper and Bella, he scored on Carlos’s single. That made it 5–4, Chargers.

  “That’s a lot of runs in three innings,” Cooper said as they took the field for the fourth.

  “It’s that kind of game,” Rhino said. “We’re right in it.”

  The runs kept coming. Two for the Chargers in the top of the fourth, two more for the Mustangs in the bottom.

  Rhino had never been in such a high-scoring game. It stood at 7–6 when the Mustangs came to bat in the bottom of the sixth.

  “Last ups!” Rhino said. “It’s now or never.”

  It’s been a long time since we lost a game, Rhino thought. The Mustangs had seven wins in a row. And they’d come from behind several times. Why should today be any different? But somebody needed to get on base. Otherwise Rhino’s day was over.

  Cooper lined the first pitch up the middle for a single. Rhino picked up his bat. “Let’s go, Bella!” he called.

  Bella tapped a perfect bunt up the third baseline. The throw to first beat her by half a step, but Cooper slid safely into second.

  “Come on, Dylan,” Rhino said.

  Dylan patiently watched two pitches go by.

  “Good eye!” Carlos called.

  Dylan swung hard at the next one, but he got under the ball. It soared high into the air, but not very deep. The second baseman easily made the catch.

  Rhino stepped to the plate with two outs.

  “Tie this game up!” Bella called. “Show them that power!”

  Rhino had already hit a single and a double today to go with his single and triple from yesterday. Only one thing was missing from his list: a home run.

  He fouled the first pitch down the first baseline, where it crashed into an empty section of the bleachers.

  “Straighten it out!” came a call from the dugout.

  Rhino swung late on the second pitch and sent it deep to the left, but foul.

  The Mustangs were down to their last strike.

  Just meet the ball, Rhino’s thinker told him. Get Cooper home and get on base!

  The pitch was low. A little inside. But too close to the strike zone to let it go by.

  Rhino swung. The ball zinged hard between first base and second and dropped into right field. Cooper sprinted around third and never let up. He slid into home, barely beating the throw. Rhino dove into second.

  All the Mustangs were standing and cheering. Rhino brushed the dirt from his jersey. He was in position to score the tying run.

  With first base empty, the Chargers’ pitcher didn’t take any chances. Manny walked on five pitches.

  “Any base!” called the shortstop—the guy who’d led off the game with a home run. The Chargers could get a force out at first, second, or third on a groundball.

  It was all up to Carlos. He didn’t have much power, but he’d singled twice today. Another one would bring Rhino home.

  Now the Mustangs chanted a name they’d never chanted before: “Carlos. Carlos. Carlos.”

  Carlos watched a strike go by. He leaned back for the next one. Then he hit the ball harder than he’d ever hit it in his life. Rhino sprinted as soon as he heard the Whack!

  Rhino was at full speed, grinding toward third, when a huge yell went up in the bleachers. The third baseman jumped with both hands in the air, and the other Chargers ran toward the mound.

  Rhino looked back. The shortstop was holding up his glove. He reached in and pulled out the ball. Carlos had lined the ball right at him. Game over.

  Rhino grabbed Carlos and patted his back. “Great game,” he said. “Great tournament.”

  “You too.”

  As the teams lined up to shake hands, Rhino spent an extra few seconds with the shortstop.

  “You made the difference,” Rhino said. “Hitting and fielding.”

  “You guys are the best team we’ve ever played,” the kid replied. “Congratulations. Hope we’ll see you again someday.”

  The Mustangs were upbeat as they loaded onto the bus. Nobody liked to lose, but they knew the game could have gone either way.

  Rhino shook hands with Bella, Cooper, and the others. “I’m riding home with my family,” he said. “I’ll see you all in school tomorrow.”

  “Go, Mustangs!” Bella said.

  It was a beautiful afternoon. Grandpa kept the car windows open a bit and they listened to music on the radio.

  “Three hits in one game is pretty impressive, little brother,” C.J. said.

  “Yeah, I had
a good tournament. Too bad we lost, but it was a lot of fun.”

  “We’ll celebrate with a special dinner tonight,” Grandpa said. “Anything you want.”

  “Sounds great,” Rhino replied. But dinner was a long way off. He was already hungry. He was also very happy.

  Rhino remembered something. He dug into his knapsack and pulled out the second PB&J sandwich he’d made on Friday.

  “Isn’t that a little stale?” C.J. asked as Rhino unwrapped it.

  Rhino shook his head. He gobbled every bite. The sandwich couldn’t have tasted better.

  It reminded him of home.

  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. 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!

  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 accolades. 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 prize-winning poster about Jupiter’s moons had taken a lot of brainwork. He’d stayed up late several nights researching the facts, then 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, 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 good word for 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. “Maybe 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 double play would end the inning and maintain 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 of 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 rally!” 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 athletes. “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. 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.

  The Wolves’ coach called timeout 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 class at school,” 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.

  Ryan Howard is a Major League Baseball first baseman. He won the National League Rookie of the Year award in 2005 and the National League MVP award in 2006. Ryan and his wife, Krystle, cofounded the Ryan Howard Big Piece Foundation, which is dedicated to improving the lives of children by promoting academic and athletic development.