The Catch Read Online Free Page A

like, “Jonas, you idiot!” He’d start walking batters and finally get wild. For Nick, our catcher, Jonas was high maintenance. The rest of us just prayed he would start strong.
    Fortunately, that was the case today. He no-hit the Bombers for the first three innings, with three Ks. In the same span we had only one hit, but it was a home run with a man on base, hit by yours truly. Kenner had walked Sammy. Carlos “Trip” Costas had grounded wide to short, so they had to play at first. And I guessed fastball on the first pitch and there it was, belt-high over the plate. I don’t have the kind of power that Sammy and Nellie do, but over the fence is over the fence, and that’s where I put it.
    As I rounded third base, I saw Team O doing a sort of mini-wave and shaking leopard-spotted towels. One of the video guys was shooting them, and the other one was shooting me as I crossed the plate and got congratulated in the dugout. I shot a smile at Kayla, who was jumping up and down and cheering.
    After that it seemed like our team could do no wrong. Jonas finally gave up a hit—a double—in the sixth, but the Bombers stranded their runner. I singled in the fourth and doubled in the seventh, driving in runs both times. By the eighth we were up 6–0.
    But then things started to go south. Jonas walked the first two batters and gave up singles to the next two. Shotaro started working in the pen. With the score 6–2, men on first and third, Jonas threw wild. Now it was 6–3 with a man on second. Jonas was talking to himself, and when he walked the next batter, Coach yanked him.
    Shotaro struck out the first batter he faced, but the second singled: 6–4, runners on first and third. Then, disaster. The batter hit a short fly to Darius in left. The runner on third tagged, and Darius threw to the plate—a perfect strike. Nick had the plate blocked, but the runner slammed into him. Nick held. The runner was out. But our catcher was down.

CHAPTER 8
    P layers and coaches from the dugout and the field converged on the plate. It was a clean play, no question. But Nick was the brains of our team on the field, besides being one of the best-liked guys on the roster.
    By the time I got to the plate Nick was already sitting up, but he was only half there. The trainers took off his mask and helmet, wiped his forehead with some wet towels, and felt his head. They let him rest where he was for maybe five minutes, and then they gently helped him up and led him into the clubhouse.
    Our guys—Darius, Gus Toomey, and Nellie—went down in order in the bottom of the eighth. In the ninth, Shotaro looked lost. He walked the first batter, who promptly stole second. The second batter doubled in the run. The next guy at the plate was their cleanup hitter, a lefty, and he drove Sammy to the wall in right. Sammy made the catch, but the tying run was on third.
    The next play was almost identical, except this time the tag-up tied the game. Shotaro was really unnerved, and Nick wasn’t there to calm him down. On the first pitch, the next batter ripped a line drive down the third baseline, but somehow Nellie snagged it for the last out.
    It was the bottom of the ninth inning and the score was tied at 6. Sammy was at the plate, Trip was on deck, and I was in the circle. Sammy got to 3–2 quickly, and then he fouled off three pitches before he connected. Their left fielder played it well off the fence, but Sammy’s speed got him to second standing up.
    You could make an argument that Sammy is the best player on our team. He’ll probably go pro some day. But once in a while he’ll get overconfident. Like this time. With no one out and Trip at the plate, Sammy decided to steal third base on the first pitch. I heard Wash swear. The element of surprise was no match for their catcher’s arm. Sammy was out, and he hung his head on the way back to the dugout.
    Trip worked the count to 3–2