The Catch Read Online Free Page B

like Sammy had done but then got called out on a pitch that looked like it was around his ankles. He looked at the umpire in disbelief and then said something quietly that got him thrown out of the game in record time. Whatever Trip had said, it couldn’t have been as bad as the stuff his dad, Julio, was yelling from the stands. Maybe the ump didn’t hear him.
    Now I was up with two out. I’d been watching the pitcher—a reliever now—and he had thrown a fastball on the first pitch to almost every batter he’d faced. So I was dug in dead red when the ump called time and the Bombers’ coach motioned to the bullpen for a new guy. Man!
    I watched him warm up, but that was no help. He was an average-sized guy—even a little chubby. He didn’t look overpowering. While I was waiting, Wash came over.
    â€œJunk,” he said. “Wait on the pitch as long as you can.”
    â€œJunk” was right. The first pitch was a floating curve that had
yard
written all over it. But I waited like Wash said, and just as it got to me it jumped up about six inches. Ball one, high. The second one moved late, too, in on my hands. I fought it off foul. One and one. On the third pitch he made a mistake. It was a floater like the first one, but I waited and it just stayed right there. So I pulled the trigger.
    I didn’t even look to see where it went. I knew from the feel of the ball on the bat and the noise of the fans that it was gone. When I got to home, the team was waiting for me. My team, the Roadrunners, and little Team Ocelot in those spotted shirts. And Kayla, with a long, hard hug. It was a moment, I have to say.
    I made plans to watch the final with Kayla in the evening. It was a good game: Phoenix beat the Mexican team, winning the way they usually did: bunts, stolen bases, timely singles, and stingy pitching.
    After the game they gave out the trophies. The Runners were third overall, and we all ran up together to get the cup. Then came the surprise that ended the day. They called my name on the loudspeaker. I was voted MVP of the tournament! The noise, the excitement, and the people pounding me on the back put me in a kind of daze as I went up to accept the plaque.
    Before the Palm, I hadn’t experienced the hero thing. Now I was discovering that I liked it—a lot.

CHAPTER 9
    A s I walked through the hotel lobby with the rest of the Runners on the way to our bus to the airport, I felt a firm, sweaty grip on my shoulder.
    â€œDanny! Just a minute!”
    I turned, startled, to see Mr. Strauss towering next to me. I wondered how I possibly could have missed him.
    â€œMr. Strauss?”
    â€œI know you’re on your way home, Danny. I just wanted to give this to you before you left.” Mr. Strauss handed me a sheet of paper with something typed on it.
    â€œIt’s your commercial!”
    I couldn’t believe it. My own
commercial
! Ocelot was obviously the best thing that had ever happened to me.
    â€œWe’ve already got it made. It will be posted on the Internet today. Next week you’ll see it on TV!”
    I didn’t know what to say, so I just yelled, “Awesome, Mr. Strauss!” and raced to catch up with the team.
    On the bus, I read the screenplay for the commercial:
    Intro: Faint guitar instrumental.
    Young blond boy in spotted shirt, Ocelot logo on black cap: “Danny, will you sign my baseball?”
    Suddenly, whole team of kids similarly attired: “Danny! Danny!”
    Cut to Danny and crack of the bat.
    Cut to cheering Ocelot-clothed kids waving towels.
    Cut to Danny crossing the plate, crowd crazy.
    Cut to Danny in interview: “Just, you know, get it.”
    Cut to video: The Catch.
    Voiceover: “There’s no way. The Eagles win. No, wait! Oh. My. Gosh! Did you see that?”
    Danny interview: “Just, you know, get it.”
    Cut to video of MVP Award.
    Voiceover: “And the MVP of the Palm Springs Invitational