

## LITTLE LEAGUE HEROES

by

### Joe Jackson

COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Joe Jackson

All Rights Reserved

Published by DAMIME PUBLISHING COMPANY

LITTLE LEAGUE is a registered trademark of Little League Baseball, Inc.

### TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE MELTING POT

SEASON OPENER

TURMOIL

FIRE THE COACH

WINNING THE PENNANT

PLAYOFFS BEGIN

FALLING APART

A NEW TEAM

SHOCK AND AWE

THE FAT LADY SINGS

Appendix: Break In Your Glove or Mitt Correctly

For Little League Ballplayers Everywhere

### THE MELTING POT

Michael Smith held the new bat and rubbed his hands along the smooth aluminum surface. The black bat was 30 inches in length and weighed 19.5 ounces. The handle was slender, very easy to grip, tapering to a fat barrelhead. Michael wondered about the size of the sweet spot in the barrelhead. The bat certification met the new Little League composite bat rules and Michael knew he had found one of a kind. It felt just right in his hands.

Stepping back to make sure there were no objects he might accidently hit, he took a few easy swings. He knew this balanced bat would hit a baseball hard. It was very easy for him to swing and because he knew bat speed was very important he had to have it. Taking his gleaming eyes off the bat, Michael looked up and leaned towards his Mom. He gave her his best hug, then looked at the store clerk and said softly,

'It's a beauty and I'll take it."

The clerk grinned from behind the counter and said, 'I'll tell you what kid, if you promise to hit a home run for me, I will throw in a batting glove for you. What do you say about that?"

Michael smiled and quickly replied, "Oooh, thank you very much. With this bat I can give you my word."

Michael had been saving as much money as he could for this moment. He had earned money helping many of his neighbors with their odd jobs and had handled his many responsibilities around his own home to earn an allowance, but in the end, he did have to count on a little help from his Mom and Dad.

He looked at his father and said, "It is a beauty, Dad. Thanks a million." His Dad grinned from behind the store display and said, "If you hit one over the fence I will buy you the biggest pizza in town. How 'bout that?"

"Yes sir," Michael responded, laughing as they left the store together. Since t-ball, he had never hit a home run and today he had made a promise to do just that. He looked at the bat again and smiled. He just knew this bat could help him deliver on his word. Heck, he could already taste the pizza!

They hurried home because tonight was an important night. It was the opening night of Little League baseball. The first scheduled game was at seven o'clock. After weeks of preparation and organizing the individual Little League teams, through the spring tryouts, and the many practice sessions, they were finally ready to play their first baseball game. Coach Anderson had asked for a brief meeting a few hours before game time.

The meeting was going to be on the patio at Michael's house. Earlier that morning Michael had asked his mother not to furnish any lemonade for the team during the meeting. She wanted to but Michael was able to convince her that the team did not need to fill up on lemonade before the start of the first game of the season.

"I just wanted to help keep the butterflies down for you and your teammates. But you are right, Michael," his mother said. "There is probably nothing in the world that will prevent butterflies during the opening night of Little League baseball."

Michael sat down on one of the metal chairs arranged on the patio. He was in his Cougar uniform, gray with maroon trim and maroon leggings. The maroon cap, with the maroon bill and button, was hanging from a peg on the wall. He was also wearing his new baseball shoes, with the latest molded cleat design, that his mother had surprised him with yesterday. He felt very comfortable in his uniform.

This was Little League baseball. It was baseball for the youth organized on a similar scale to the major leagues. The headquarters were in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. Little League baseballs' roots extended as far as baseball's history itself – into the 18th century. Little League baseball had a Baseball Commissioner with a final tournament schedule called the Little League World Series. Each individual league had schedules with play-offs. The longer a team continued to win, the closer the team came to going to Williamsport.

When the town announced it was organizing the Little League season, Michael was one of the first to appear at the ballpark to register. He loved playing baseball and he could not wait to sign up. Various businesses and organizations sponsored the teams and provided the uniforms and equipment to outfit each player. On the very first day of try-outs, with almost three hundred players on the field and the different team coaches watching them carefully for selection decisions later, Michael had been frantic with the fear of going unnoticed after working his tail off to show his baseball skills.

Michael learned that later, at a special meeting, the individual team coaches had placed their bids for the players they saw and liked. Each coach had a certain number of points to bid with on the players he or she wanted. This insured that there were no cliques on any of the teams and that each team had players representing every section of town. Just like the big leagues, a team coach could also trade players to another team or "buy" players with the points he had left over.

Coach Anderson of the Cougars in the American League picked Michael. In the beginning, he was not impressed with Coach Anderson, even though the coach seemed to know a lot about baseball. Michael thought he looked different. His clothes were drab and his car a rust bucket, but after a few practice sessions, Michael realized Coach Anderson seemed to be a focused Little League baseball coach.

Michael's dad saw him fidgeting in the chair. He asked, "Are you nervous, Michael?"

"A little," Michael admitted.

"Don't worry one bit about it, son. You will get over it after you see the first pitch. Even the big leaguers feel that way on opening night," his dad said. "Come with me to the front porch so you can greet your teammates as they arrive. Is the whole team coming this afternoon?"

Michael nodded. "Coach Anderson called the meeting for four-thirty because of his work schedule. He couldn't make it any earlier."

"I see," his father murmured. "What about this David Anderson fella, your coach, Michael? Where does he come from?"

"Other side of town," Michael explained. There was not too much enthusiasm in his voice when he spoke of the Cougar coach and his father sensed it. Michael had hoped the Red Sox coach, Dusty Taylor, the former big-league outfielder, would draw him. Michael was not alone, either. Every one of the players on the field at tryouts that afternoon had wanted to play for Taylor.

"Was Anderson a ballplayer too?" his father asked as they went out on the porch.

"I think he played college baseball and had a brief stint in the minor leagues," Michael said. "He's never talked about it."

"I suppose," his father murmured, "you wanted to play with Dusty Taylor, didn't you?"

Michael moistened his lips. In a town like Springdale with a population of just under twenty four thousand people, everybody knew Dusty Taylor, because Dusty was the only big-league ballplayer ever to come out of the town. He had been good, too. He was once up among the league's leading hitters, and had always been a slick outfielder.

"I guess," Michael admitted, "it might have been pretty cool playing for the Red Sox. I probably would have learned a lot more from Dusty."

His father nodded then said, "You think so. Well, sometimes the best ballplayers do not make the best coaches. Remember, whoever it is you play for Michael; always give him the best effort that you have."

Two boys in maroon and gray Cougar uniforms were coming down the street and Michael walked to the porch door to greet them. His father touched him on the shoulder, and then went into the living room where Michael could hear him talking with his mother.

The boys coming up the walk were Jake Jones, the right fielder, and Carlos Rodriguez, the catcher. Jake was a short, stocky boy with very wide shoulders, the hardest hitting batter on the team. He had earned the fourth slot, also known as the cleanup hitter, in the batting line-up. Jake had very light blond hair and blue eyes. He chewed gum vigorously and when he saw Michael in the porch doorway, he lifted his hand and waved.

Carlos Rodriguez the catcher was also on the stocky side and a little taller than Jake. Carlos was a tanned, olive skinned boy with big, capable hands, and a great throwing arm for a young boy of twelve. Coach Anderson always shook his head in amazement when he watched Carlos throw down to second. Carlos had a gift. His natural ability to throw hard while getting rid of the ball quickly could prove to be quite an asset.

Once on the porch Jake asked, "Are we the first ones here, Michael?"

"Well, yes you are," Michael replied, as he watched Carlos pick up Michael's new bat and hold it in his hands while grinning from ear to ear. Jake Jones quickly sat in the porch swing and said, "I heard the Red Sox had a meeting up at Dusty Taylor's house yesterday. They said Dusty built a regular clubhouse in his back yard and filled it with all of his baseball trophies, pictures, and souvenirs. Dusty calls it his Baseball House."

Michael picked up a sound of envy in Jake's voice and responded quickly, "The Red Sox aren't going to win the pennant in Mr. Taylor's club house, Jake. You know that."

"I know," Jake admitted as he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.

Michael glanced at Carlos who was still holding his new bat. Carlos, who lived across town in a large apartment complex, was from a large family of seven children besides himself and his father worked long, hard hours in the railroad yards. Holding something new was not common for Carlos, the youngest of his siblings. Carlos was used to hand-me-downs.

Carlos sat down next to Jake. He was a boy who seldom smiled, a quiet, dark-eyed, black-haired boy. He was a hard, tough kid who had to deal with the peer pressure of his neighborhood to make the Little League team. Michael had heard that most of the other kids from the apartment complex often teased Carlos for playing on a Little League baseball team and Carlos had to stand up for himself. Michael figured Carlos could handle it though. If not, his siblings certainly could.

Carlos said, "Everybody's late, Michael."

"They'll be along," Michael told him. He heard Carlos start to whistle softly; then the boy said slowly,

"What do you think of Josh Miller?"

Michael looked at him. "I guess Josh is all right," he replied.

Miller was one of the four Cougar pitchers and easily the best from what Michael had seen of him in practice sessions. Josh was from Nob Hill out in the suburbs of Springdale. Michael knew that Josh's father owned the big Springdale Cotton Mills. The Miller family had a summer home in the mountains and a winter home in Florida. They also owned a big yacht that usually docked in the Springdale harbor. Josh had mentioned it one day during batting practice while inviting Michael down to the marina to help him clean the deck. Michael had agreed and had asked Josh, "How will I know which yacht is yours?" Josh had assured him not to worry because he would get there before Michael and wait for him.

Michael knew that Coach Anderson was curious to see how the battery mates, Carlos and Josh, would get along. There was no trouble between the two so far, but Michael often wondered how they were going to hit it off during the short Little League season of eighteen games played during the summer break. All of the games were twilight games, scheduled to start in the evening.

An electrician's truck pulled up in front of the house and two more boys in Cougar uniforms hopped out. Mr. Wilson, a licensed electrician, grinned from behind the wheel and waved to his son Andy, the Cougar left fielder. He then drove off, probably to his next job.

With Andy was little Daniel Garcia, the youngest boy on the Cougar team. Daniel, who had just turned ten years old, could run very fast and under Coach Anderson's guidance Daniel was developing into a dependable outfielder while playing center field.

Daniel's father owned a little Mexican restaurant on the main street in downtown Springdale. The food was excellent, especially the homemade "melt in your mouth" tamales. Mr. Garcia wanted to sponsor one of the teams even though his restaurant, a very small one-window affair, was not making a great deal of money. Because other sponsors had put their bids in first, his offer, though appreciated, was not accepted.

Andy Wilson, tall, slender, and cotton-topped, nodded to Michael when he came up. He pointed across the side lawn and said, "Here comes Matthew Davis."

Matthew Davis, the third baseman, was walking up the street from one direction, while Ethan Moore, the shortstop, walked from the opposite direction. Davis was the bigger boy, square-jawed, blue-eyed, and freckle-faced.

Michael had sensed a bit of tension existed between Matthew Davis and Ethan Moore. Ethan was a quiet, almost shy boy, and Matthew was just the opposite. Michael hoped it would work itself out.

Tyrone Johnson, the first baseman, followed behind Moore. Tyrone appeared a little self-conscious in his uniform while walking towards Michael's house. Like Rodriguez, Johnson lived in the same apartment complex and had to put in just as much effort as Rodriguez to get onto a Little League team. He was another quiet kid, but very good at fielding balls and digging throws out of the dirt at first. Michael had liked Tyrone immediately upon meeting him.

Davis walked up on the porch and said rather sourly, "Coach Anderson here, yet?"

"He'll be along," Michael replied assuredly. "He told me he might be a few minutes late." Davis sat down on the edge of the porch. He took Michael's bat from Carlos Rodriguez's hands and examined it, his blue eyes shining a little. "This is a beauty," he murmured.

"There's Coach Anderson now," Jake Jones said.

The player on the porch lapsed into silence as Coach Anderson stepped off the bus on the corner and hurried down the street, checking the house numbers as he came, not sure which one was Michael's. He was a tall man in his thirties, almost gaunt, a thin, homely looking, lantern-jawed man.

When Coach looked up and saw the boys on the porch, he waved and grinned. Michael jogged out to meet him.

"How is it, boy?" the Cougar coach asked.

He had a nice smile, very warm, which made Michael forget the rather homely face. "Is everybody here?" Coach Anderson asked.

Three more Cougar pitchers – Willie Brown, Joseph Williams, and Cris Martinez, were hurrying around the corner. These three boys, with Josh Miller, filled out the pitching roster.

"Everybody's here but Miller," Matthew Davis told him.

"Well, we'll give Josh a few more minutes," Coach Anderson replied cheerily. "Is this gang all set for the opener tonight?"

The players all nodded, but Michael could see that there was not too much enthusiasm. Most of the players, he himself included, wanted to play for the famous Dusty Taylor. Michael was a little ashamed, remembering his thoughts. It was not fair to Coach Anderson, who was working hard with this Cougar team, getting the players ready for the opening game, while working full time at his job to make his personal ends meet.

Michael stood back against one of the porch columns, looking at the various players. With the exception of Willie Brown, the pitcher, and Andy Wilson, the outfielder, he had known none of the others before the team formed. They were all from different parts of Springdale. The eight coaches, representing the eight teams in the Springdale League, had made their choices from the various players at spring tryouts with no knowledge of a player's background, judging them solely upon their abilities on the diamond.

Coach Anderson's selections, without his knowing it at the time, had cut right through Springdale society. From the walled, gated community of Nob Hill, home to the Miller family, to the middle class residential neighborhood of Michael's, and into the apartment complex on the other side of the railroad tracks, his selections pulled many different kids together. Michael's neighborhood included small business owners in town like the Moore's, the electrician Wilson, and the Garcia family, who owned the restaurant. It included working men like Mr. Davis and Mr. Jones.

Michael remembered how coach had laughingly called it at their first practice session, "Now, if this is not a melting pot, what is?"

A luxurious black touring car pulled up to the curb with a chauffeur at the wheel. When the car came to a stop, the chauffeur stepped out and opened the door. Josh Miller bounced out, grinning like everyone else, already in his full Cougar uniform.

"Holy smoke," little Daniel Garcia gasped. "This guy has his own chauffer!"

Josh hopped up on the porch. He was a good-looking boy with wavy brown hair and brown eyes. Already Coach Anderson had announced that Josh would start the game tonight.

"How is it everybody?" Josh grinned. "Sorry I am late. We just got back from the beach and John had to rush me over here."

Michael noticed that John, the chauffeur, had taken out his eBook reader to read as he sat behind the wheel. Evidently, he intended to wait for Josh.

The other boys were looking at the car, also. Tyrone Johnson scratched his chin thoughtfully, his eyes wide. Carlos Rodriguez's face was expressionless and Michael did not know what to think.

"If we are all here," Coach Anderson said, "we'll start the meeting."

They went out to the patio and sat down in the chairs. Coach started to talk as soon as they sat down. He spoke briskly, using his hands to emphasize a point.

"We have a good club here," he said earnestly, "a very good club. I do not know how far we will go in this league, but if we all pull together, we will do well. I have seen some very good clubs fall to pieces because they could not or would not play together as a team. We must remember it is not just about how good you are at playing the game of baseball. It is also how well you play alongside the people on the team with you."

The sober, stolid Andy Wilson was nodding his head vigorously. Little Daniel Garcia nodded also, taking his cue from Andy, who was his closest friend.

The other boys just looked at Coach Anderson or they looked at the floor. Michael could see his talk was not making too much of an impression on them.

"Okay then," Coach finished. "Here's the lineup for tonight's twilight game."

He posted a scrap of paper on the wall. Every position contained a name with Josh Miller pitching and Carlos Rodriguez catching. Silent murmurs could be heard as excitement began to build. You could feel it in the air. Their season was about to start.

"One other thing," Coach said. "We'll need a team captain and that is somebody you will have to elect yourselves."

Daniel Garcia said, "How about Michael Smith?"

Jake Jones, Andy Wilson, and Ethan Moore nodded.

"Anybody else nominated?" Coach asked.

There were no other nominations and Michael became the team captain. Coach Anderson said to him quietly, "Okay, Michael, it's your job, and good luck with it."

"Thanks,' Michael murmured. He shifted uneasily on his seat, wondering how much luck he was going to need playing for a coach for whom most of his team players did not respect.

### SEASON OPENER

There was a parade out to the park for the opening games of the Little League season. A fire truck and a police car, both with their lights flashing, and one of the area high school bands marched ahead to lead the procession. The local league officials, sponsors, organizations, and town dignitaries followed behind the band. The individual teams with the players in full uniforms marched behind them all. Each one of the teams carried its own banner with the team name and those of their sponsors on it.

Michael carried one end of the Cougar banner and Carlos Rodriguez carried the other. It looked like the whole town had turned out to watch the parade march to the new ball field, a field specially constructed for the Little League games. Groups of kids had come down from across the railroad tracks and many were jeering as the teams went by. Several of them pointed and hooted at Carlos and Tyrone Johnson in their new uniforms as they walked past. Both boys held their heads high and their jaws tight while staring straight ahead.

Coach Anderson walked with the Cougars, grinning and looking a little self-conscious, trying to keep step with the rest of the parade marchers.

Up ahead of the Cougars walked Dusty Taylor's Red Sox, with Taylor himself marching ahead of them, smiling and waving his hand to the crowd. He wore a neatly pressed sport shirt, with slacks, and sport shoes with his black hair slicked back and parted in the middle. He seemed cool, clean, efficient, and very confident.

Looking over at Coach Anderson, the stark differences struck Michael. Coach wore rather baggy pants and his white shirt showed a little fray at the collar. His rolled up shirtsleeves and his ordinary black shoes were rather worse for wear.

Michael remembered what he had heard so many times from coach about the appearance of an opposing team. "Get it out of your head boys," Coach had said, "because just like you, they put their uniforms on one leg at a time. A uniform would just hang in the closet if someone did not put it on."

At the ball field, the band played the Star Spangled Banner. A Little League representative made a short speech and then the Cougars took the field with the Red Sox at bat. The big crowd that had swarmed after the parade now filled the bleachers, located behind the dugouts and the home plate fence, to capacity. The smell of popcorn and grilled hot dogs from the concession stand was definitely in the air. The ball field was buzzing with something. Michael knew what it was: LITTLE LEAGUE EXCITEMENT!

After a brief warm-up session of stretching and throwing the plate umpire tossed the white official Little League baseball out on the field. According to regulation, although the ball was identical to size and weight to a Major League ball, the playing field was two-thirds the official size of an average Major League field.

Josh Miller smiled broadly and looked very cool and calm as he walked out to the mound and picked up the ball.

Carlos Rodriguez stood behind the plate with his mask on the ground beside him and stared out at Miller. Carlos waited for the warm-up pitches. Michael trotted out to second base. Matthew Davis moved quickly to third base, Ethan Moore trotted to shortstop while tall Tyrone Johnson eased over to first.

The three Cougar outfielders, Jake Jones, Daniel Garcia, and Andy Wilson, sprinted toward their outfield positions. The umpire bawled from behind home plate, "PLAY BALL."

Michael felt the nervous energy rising inside of him and he could scarcely stand still. His father and mother sat in the stands on the first base side of the field, along with one of his uncles and two of his aunts. Every other player on the field had relatives present except Carlos Rodriguez. Carlos had informed Michael that there would be no one there to watch him play because his father was busy playing soccer and did not want to be bothered with baseball.

Josh Miller's parents, with a few of their friends, were present and sitting a little apart from the others at the far end of the third base stands. They all dressed in nice sports clothes. Josh's father, a big, heavy-set man with a bulldog face, who did not look at all like his son, smoked a big fat cigar.

Coach Anderson stayed in the Cougar dugout with the substitutes and Michael could see that his coach was nervous. First, he sat on the dugout steps, rubbing his hands; then he stood, then he sat down again.

The first Red Sox batter put on the protective helmet and walked out to the plate. Josh stood on the mound, watching him, waiting for the signal from Carlos. Carlos, wearing his mask, chest protector, and kneepads, squatted down, stared at Josh through the bars of his mask, and flashed his signal for the fastball.

Josh wound up and threw the new white baseball. The Red Sox batter swung and the sound of the bat hitting the ball was loud and clear. The ball bounded down toward third base. Matthew Davis caught it on the bounce and threw it across to first. His throw was a little wild, but Tyrone Johnson stretched, keeping his toe on the bag and the base umpire waved the runner out.

Michael felt a little better as the big crowd yelled encouragement and applauded the play. The second Red Sox batter walked to the plate. The announcement of the batter's name over the ballpark's new sound system made this second batter appear a little uncomfortable. He grinned sheepishly while walking up to the plate.

Josh, pitching effortlessly, got two strikes called and on the third pitch the Red Sox batter hit a ground ball down to Ethan Moore at short. Ethan rushed the ball and it went through his legs.

Michael raced over to second to cover the throw in from the outfield and saw little Daniel Garcia let the ball go through his legs too. The crowd howled as the Red Sox runner sprinted around the bases for a run, the ball rolling out to the center-field fence.

Michael felt sick. He looked over at Ethan who was kicking at the ground, his face pale. Matthew Davis was scowling on third, pounding his glove. Michael had a pretty, good idea of what Matthew thought of Ethan.

Out in center field little Daniel looked as if he were ready to cry. On what should have been an infield out, a Red Sox player had scored a run, putting the Red Sox ahead, 1 to 0.

Josh was not pleased either. He scowled on the mound as he prepared to pitch again. He bore down hard, striking out the batter on three straight pitches. He struck out the next Red Sox batter also and retired the side.

Michael heard Matthew Davis say bitterly as they came into the dugout, "What can you expect? We'll never get anywhere with that guy at short."

Ethan heard the remark and his face turned red as he walked out to bat, leading off for the Cougars.

Coach Anderson said quietly, "Okay, gang. Let us not worry about one run. We will get it back. Everybody in here now, let's talk it up."

Ethan struck out, swinging at a very high pitch and he walked back to the dugout dragging his bat. Michael, who was second in the batting order, stepped up to the plate with his throat very dry.

Willie Brown was down in the third base coaching box, and Willie yelled, "Start us off, Michael."

The Red Sox pitcher was a left-hander and he threw hard. Coach Anderson called from the dugout,

"Make him put it over, Michael."

Michael gripped his new bat tightly, watching the pitcher. The first pitch was right over the heart of the plate and he swung hard. There was a resounding and distinctive "tink" sound as the composite bat met the ball cleanly. The ball arched out over second base. It was the first clean hit of the evening as well as the first clean hit of the new Little League season!

The crowd yelled and the Cougar players in the dugout whooped. Cris Martinez, coaching from first, pounded Michael's back happily.

Tyrone Johnson walked to the plate and looked at the dugout for his signal from Coach Anderson. They had worked out a very nice set of signals for the season. Each player had his own spot depending on his place in the lineup that coach would touch to send a signal. One touch on your spot while batting meant to bunt while one touch on your spot when on base meant to steal.

Coach's right knee was spot number one, his right hip spot number two, the inside of his right elbow the third spot, and his right shoulder number four. The top of coach's head was the fifth spot and the remaining spots went down his left side just like the right side for spots six, seven, eight, and nine. Since Tyrone was the third batter in the lineup, his spot would be inside the right elbow of Coach Anderson. If coach did not touch that spot, it meant Tyrone could hit away.

A player really had to pay attention because coach would sometimes touch five to seven different spots before a pitch. Michael thought it was probably a good way for coach to handle his game time energy.

Tyrone Johnson looked down at Michael as Michael stood on the base. Then he tugged at his cap and took the first pitch for a ball. Tyrone swung at the second pitch and hit a long fly to center field. The Red Sox center fielder caught it for the second out. Jake walked up to bat for the Cougars.

In the Cougar dugout, Coach had touched his left hip while flashing signs to Michael and Michael knew exactly what that meant. Michael touched his cap to signal that he had caught the steal sign from Coach. The Red Sox left-hander was watching him carefully and the big Red Sox catcher pounded his glove, both of them sure he was going to steal.

Starting with the first movement of the left-handed pitcher towards home, the way Coach had taught him in practice, Michael got a good jump on the lefty, and he needed it. He ran as hard as he could and slid on his hip as he neared the bag. The catcher's throw was there but the second baseman dropped the ball as Michael slid into the bag. "Safe," yelled the field ump.

The Cougars on the bench yelled happily and they really yelled when Jake swung at the next pitch and hit it over the left field fence for a home run. The fence was one hundred and eighty feet away and the ball had no problem clearing it by another twenty feet.

The Cougar fans in the stands stood up, cheering as Jake proudly loped around the bases, pumping his fist as he crossed home plate because his home run put the Cougars into the lead 2 to 1.

Michael slapped Jake's back as he came into the dugout and he heard Jake say softly,

"That's one."

Michael glanced at him, not particularly liking what he heard. It was not one, but two runs for the Cougars, but it sounded as if Jake was not thinking too much about the Cougar runs; he was thinking about himself and the gold trophy awarded to the boy hitting the most home runs in the Springdale league at the end of the season. To Jake it was just one home run.

In the third inning, the Red Sox tied up the score on an error by Ethan at short. With a runner on third and two out, Ethan bobbled the ball in the infield, letting the runner come home.

Matthew Davis nearly had a fit on third base. He kicked at the dirt again and he shook his head in disgust. He looked over at Coach Anderson with disgust for putting Ethan in the game.

"Shake it off, forget it," coach called from the dugout. "We'll get it back."

Josh was also fuming out on the mound because two unearned runs had scored and he was pitching a good game, having given up only one clean hit so far.

Michael trotted up to the mound to have a word with Josh and said, "Don't let it worry you, Josh."

"I can't strike them all out," Josh growled. "I need support out there too."

Michael saw Carlos Rodriguez watching the pitcher grimly, hands on his hips. "Play ball,' Carlos called tersely from the plate.

The game got under way again and Josh retired the side with no more runs. Trouble broke out in the Cougar dugout however, when the Cougars came in at the end of the inning. Matthew Davis made another remark and this time Ethan came back at him. Ethan said quietly,

"I don't have to take that from you, Davis."

The redhead looked at him. "Is that what you think?" he murmured.

"Yes," Ethan snapped, "I'm not afraid of you."

"Maybe..." Davis started to say and then Coach Anderson came in between them and said with a good-natured smile, "Let's forget it." Coach then looked around the dugout and said with a grin, "We're all pals here."

However, Michael saw the troubled look deep down in the tall man's eyes and he realized coach was worried. This melting pot of boys, this collection of many different people, seemed to be falling apart during the first game of the season.

In the fifth inning, the Red Sox scored two more runs on an error by Tyrone Johnson at first base. Josh Miller walked off the mound in disgust at the end of the inning with the score 4 to 2 for the Red Sox.

It was still 4 to 2 in the bottom of the sixth and last inning, with the game apparently in the bag for the Red Sox. The Red Sox left-hander, ably coached by Dusty Taylor, had pitched a beautiful baseball game so far, allowing only three hits wile walking just two men. Carlos Rodriguez had doubled in the fourth inning, but could not score.

Across the field, Dusty Taylor sat in his dugout, smiling. He looked very pleased, obviously feeling his first Red Sox victory. Suddenly, the Cougars pounced. Andy Wilson, who led off, singled over first base for his first hit in the league. He ran down to the bag, yelling at the top of his lungs.

Coach Anderson immediately called for a bunt because little Daniel Garcia bunted very well and could run like a deer. Daniel dropped the bunt along third base and took off in a blur. He was past the bag when the first baseman caught the throw and both men were safe.

The Cougar fans started to make noise in the stands. Carlos Rodriguez was coming up and Carlos had hit the ball hard the last time up. He was going to hit it again. You could feel it. Michael could tell from the way he stood there, his legs braced and his bat still on his shoulder, just staring at the pitcher. He was hitting away and that he did, on the first pitch, driving the ball through the left center field gap, scoring Wilson and putting Garcia on third. He went into second for his second double of the evening. The score was now 4 to 3 for the Red Sox.

Dusty Taylor came out of the dugout, no longer smiling, muttering under his breath. He called for time and he had a few words with his left-hander. Josh, a very good batter, was up next, but this time he would not hit the ball very far. His roller back to the mound was the first out of the inning and Garcia stayed at third after being looked back by the Red Sox pitcher.

With one out, the Red Sox signaled an intentional walk of Ethan Moore. By loading the bases to play for a double play, they hoped to retire the side and win the game.

Michael, the next man in line to bat, crouched in the batter on-deck circle. He watched as they intentionally walked Ethan. Coach Anderson came out to talk to him as Ethan trotted down to first base.

The crowd was yelling now. Michael could see his father standing up, watching him. He held in his hands the new bat his mother and father had helped him purchase that afternoon, the same bat with which he had hit his single earlier in the game. He had to get another hit or draw a walk. If he hit into a double play, the Cougars would lose the ballgame.

Coach Anderson said quietly, "You can hit this boy, Michael. You have hit him before. Make him put it over the plate and in your zone. Do not try to crush it. All we need is a base hit to win the game. Just put your bat on the ball."

"All right," Michael muttered. He was nervous now, his legs weak, and his hands sweating. He rubbed dirt on the bat and he stepped into the batter's box.

Dusty Taylor was calling to the pitcher, "C'mon, C'mon. You've got this man, Jack."

Michael really resented that remark and he stepped back out of the box to clear his mind of it. He had to focus. Even though Taylor already considered him out, Michael wanted very much to beat the big leaguer and his Red Sox who most people in town thought would win this ball game.

The left-handed Red Sox pitcher was on the mound, looking at him. He started his wind up. The ball came in a little wide of the plate. Michael let it go for a called ball.

He adjusted his batting helmet and dug in again, remembering Coach Anderson's words. He was to just meet the ball, get the barrel of his bat on it solidly and the baseball would do the rest.

The next pitch was a curve ball and Michael swung at it, fouling it back into the backstop behind the catcher, making the count one and one. The entire Cougar team was on the dugout steps, yelling for that hit now and the Red Sox were talking it up in the infield.

Michael dug in at the plate. He was not as tall as Tyrone Johnson, nor as heavily or solidly built as Jake Jones or Matthew Davis; but, he was not skinny and he could hit a ball pretty far when he caught hold of one. He stepped out of the box and thought about the left field fence one hundred and eighty feet away. A home run with the bases loaded, a grand slam in his first game of Little League baseball would really be something, but then he remembered Coach Anderson's comment. The Cougars did not need a home run to win this game. A base hit would be perfect.

The left-hander threw another pitch and it was outside for a ball. Michael stepped out of the batter's box and looked over at Coach Anderson. The Cougar coach just smiled at him confidently, pointing toward the outfield.

The next pitch was in his zone and Michael swung. He literally saw the ball hit the bat; he heard the distinctive "tink" sound ringing true and his heart leaped with joy as the baseball darted between shortstop and third base, rolling to the outfield.

As he raced madly toward first base, he heard the roar of the crowd from the stands. Two Cougar runners pounded over the plate and then all of the Cougar players raced out to first base to pound and jump on Michael's back. Michael saw his father standing up, shouting, and grinning ear to ear.

"You did it, Michael!" Andy Wilson howled. "That's number one for the Cougars."

Walking back to the dugout and seeing the smiling Coach Anderson, Michael Smith was thinking that Little League baseball was so much fun and his team, the Cougars, was the best in Springdale, best of the eight teams in the Springdale league. Maybe they were best in their district, maybe best in their section, maybe best in the whole world!

### TURMOIL

They won another game that week, beating the Eagles by a 10 to 2 score with Willie Brown pitching for the Cougars. Jake Jones hit his second home run over the center field fence. Carlos Rodriguez also hit a home run. Matthew Davis came through with four hits in five times at bat.

At the end of the week, the league standings appeared in the Springdale newspaper and Michael studied them carefully with Willie Brown, Andy Wilson, and little Daniel Garcia. The American League standings showed the Cougars undefeated and leading their league. Dusty Taylor's Red Sox were in last place.

Willie Brown pointed at the paper and he said to Michael slyly, "What do you think of Dusty Taylor's Red Sox now, Michael?"

Michael just shook his head perplexed. The Red Sox had lost their first two games and were now in last place in the American League standings.

"Everybody wanted to play for Taylor," Andy grinned, "but you'll notice Coach Anderson's team is on top."

"We'll stay there too," Daniel said slowly. "We're going to win the pennant in this league and then we're going to beat the winners of the National League in Springdale and then..."

"Hey," Andy broke in laughing. "We've only played two games so far, Daniel. We might lose the next ten."

Little Daniel shook his head and said, "We have the two best pitchers in the league, in Josh Miller and Willie here, and we have the best hitters."

Michael sat on one of the basement benches listening to the talk. It was Saturday morning and with none of the league games scheduled for that day, Coach Anderson had called a practice session at the park grounds for that afternoon.

"Lots of things we have to work out," Coach had told them after the Eagles win. "Some of you boys aren't hitting yet and the infield is a little sloppy, especially the throwing. Then there is base stealing, bunting and sliding techniques that we really need to work on. It always helps us to practice whenever we can. We have to get the fundamentals down; we have to be fundamentally sound out there on the field."

It was a hot and humid Saturday in late June, when the Cougar squad straggled down to the playing field. When Michael arrived with Willie Brown from his block, he found Matthew, Carlos, and Jake sitting on the bench waiting for them.

Ethan was playing catch with Tyrone Johnson out on the field. Cris Martinez and Joseph Williams were just coming up from the water cooler, sweaty, dusty; then Coach Anderson drove up in a shabby little roadster he had just bought. It was painted green, at least fifteen years old and it made a great deal of noise as he rolled into the parking lot nearby. It was another rust-bucket.

Michael saw Jake and Matthew Davis eyeing the old car thoughtfully and then Jake said, "Old junk-heap. You see Dusty Taylor's big SUV. He can almost get the whole team in it."

"Well, that SUV can't hit, can't field, and certainly can not throw a baseball. Therefore, that big SUV will never win a ballgame. Besides, last time I looked, the team riding around in that big SUV is in last place," Andy said from the other end of the bench.

Andy had just come up and was putting on his new baseball shoes, a nice pair with the molded cleat design that all the players seemed to be wearing these days. Andy's father had bought him the shoes after the outfielder had made three hits in the Eagle game.

Coach Anderson bustled up. He wore baggy slacks, a faded blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a baseball cap. As usual, he was smiling broadly, clapping his hands, full of pep.

He said, "What do you think about a little batting practice right now, gang? I want you to think about your hitting zone, concentrating and expecting a pitch in your zone every time you get up to bat. Cris, you can do the pitching for us."

Then he looked at Michael and said, "Everybody here, Captain?"

"Everybody but Josh," Michael told him, looking around.

Coach nodded. "Josh can not make it this afternoon," he said, wiping the perspiration from his face. Carlos, who had been putting on his kneepads to catch for batting practice stopped, looked at the Cougar coach steadily and asked, "Why?"

Coach shrugged, "His mother's text message earlier in the day confirmed that he had other plans. His family left for the weekend and Josh had to go along with them."

Michael saw Carlos's lips tighten and there was a grim smile on his face as he walked to the plate. Michael heard him say,

"Must be nice to be down at the beach on such a hot day like this? Too bad we all can't go."

Michael said quickly, "I think Josh would much rather be here with us, Carlos. He couldn't help it if his folks decided to leave town for the weekend."

"Okay," Carlos growled. "I didn't mean anything, Michael."

Michael trotted out to second base and he watched as Coach Anderson worked with Ethan and Tyrone at the plate. Neither player had done much as of yet and Ethan had been especially weak, striking out four times in the two games played.

Coach worked patiently with his skinny shortstop, getting him to change his batting style. Ethan had been taking a full wild swing at the ball. Coach was trying to get him to shorten his bat by choking up on it. Coach wanted Ethan to punch at the ball as it came in, just meet it with the bat. Coach kept repeating, "Let the bat do the work for you."

It took a while for Ethan to catch on and the players in the field became impatient. Matthew, waiting out in deep short, slapped his glove a few times and kept muttering to himself that Coach had made a big mistake signing Ethan with the club and that they'd do better to trade him to the lowly Eagles, or even down to the lower league in Springdale. It was a league comprised of younger, less capable ball players.

Michael edged over toward the redhead and he said quietly, "If Ethan hears you talking like that, Matthew, it'll be a little harder for him. Ethan is trying his hardest and he is a good infielder.

Davis laughed jeeringly. "Can't hit, can't field, and can't run. What's he good for?"

Matthew had no more said the words "good for" when Ethan lined a nice ball right between Matthew and Michael. Ethan managed to hit a few more balls sharply before Coach sent him out to the field. Coach then went to work with the tall Tyrone Johnson.

Ethan was not sure just where to go when he came out on the field with his glove. He looked at Davis, who was standing at short and he started out to the outfield. As he went past the redhead, Michael heard Davis say something. He could not make out the words, but the remark could not have been nice.

Ethan stopped and his face turned red. He stared at Davis for one long moment and Michael started to walk that way, thinking Ethan was going to make an issue out of it. However, Ethan turned and walked away, looking down at the ground.

Tyrone had a wild uneven swing and Michael heard Coach Anderson saying to him patiently, "Keep your eyes on the ball, Tyrone. Don't ever take your eyes off the ball when it's coming toward the plate."

Tyrone's weakness was swinging the bat from the shoulder, so Coach had him drop the bat a little as the ball started to come in. This adjustment caused Tyrone to swing level and he no longer had the uneven swing he had been taking. His swing now looked very fluid.

Suddenly a loud metal noise was heard, not a "tink" but a "tunk" sound. They were all very surprised to see that Tyrone had finally caught hold of a ball and hit it far over Jake's head in center field. Coach Anderson slapped Tyrone on the back as he left the plate. Tyrone was grinning with a very big smile.

Andy said to Michael, "That guy is going to be a hitter. Jake Jones has never hit a baseball that far in his whole life."

Michael nodded. He was very happy that Tyrone seemed to be making strides. He played next to him on the infield and he had come to like Tyrone. Tyrone was quiet, but he gave his best all the time. He was working very hard on his fundamentals at first base.

They had an infield warm-up after the batting session and Michael was amazed at some of the stops Ethan made. Ethan covered a great deal of ground at short and his throws to first were hard and accurate. Matthew Davis, on the other hand, was just the opposite on his throws to first from third. Wild and inaccurate to describe his throws across the diamond would be an understatement. _Where is Matthew's head?_ Michael wondered to himself.

Coach worked them for thirty minutes, batting ground balls to each fielder, watching the way they handled the ball, making suggestions. His blue shirt became sweat stained, but his enthusiasm never let up. Michael could definitely see the improvement on the field after a while.

Coach trotted out to second base, letting Willie Brown hit the infield grounders. He worked with Michael and Ethan on double plays at second, showing them exactly how they were to handle the throws as they touched the bag while turning to whip the ball across to first.

Ethan had the habit of trying to get rid of the ball almost before he caught it and as a result, he threw wildly or dropped the ball, messing up the play. Coach worked with him to slow it down.

"Keep the runner off of second. Make sure we get him out before we try for the next one," Coach grinned. "You work too fast and we lose both runners. We have to get the lead runner out coming down from first. He is most important. Keeping runners off second base is so important in this game of baseball. Remember that."

He taught Michael how to whip the ball across the letters of his shirt, dragging his foot over the bag while taking Ethan's throw. After a while, it became very smooth. "Don't worry," said coach. "We'll get better. When you've done it a couple of thousand times you will be doing it in your sleep."

They had sliding practice after that. Coach taught them how to hit the dirt, doing it himself a half of a dozen times. He demonstrated how they had to move in toward the bag in the hook slide, falling away from the infielder's tag, giving him only the tip of the cleat, to hook the bag with one toe.

The Cougar coach was dirty and dusty when he got up to watch the players do it. His face streaked with sweat and dust.

The players lined up and slid into the bag one after the other with Coach Anderson standing by, watching each one, correcting them, and showing them how to avoid the "strawberry." Daniel Garcia proved to be the best slider on the team. The small boy could run like the wind and he quickly caught on to the hook slide, literally flying into the bag, then fading away.

Carlos Rodriguez became another good slider. Carlos was the reckless type and he tore into the bag high and hard, hitting the ground with great force. When he got up after on of his slides, he looked at Michael grimly and said,

"You know, it is a lot cooler down at the beach, Michael?"

Michael slapped him on the back. "Forget about it, Carlos," he smiled.

"Si, si!" Carlos scowled.

Matthew Davis did not like Ethan and Michael noticed that Jake would watch Tyrone Johnson occasionally, nonchalantly, with a small frown on Jake's wide face. Jake was the acknowledged home run hitter of this team, gunning for the big trophy and now one of his own teammates had suddenly demonstrated that he could hit a very long ball too. Tyrone might well begin to challenge him for the honor.

The practice session broke up at four-thirty. Coach Anderson got into his car, dirty and sweaty. He smiled and waved to the team and then drove away. Michael gathered at the water cooler with the other players for a good drink of cold water.

It was at the water cooler that the ill feeling between Moore and Davis broke out into the open. Ethan was having a drink when the redhead came up, swaggering a little, with his glove dangling from his fingertips. Michael sensed trouble immediately and he looked around quickly to see the taillights of Coach Anderson's car disappearing around the corner. With the Cougar coach gone, it was up to him as team captain to keep things in hand.

Davis said evenly, "Okay, Moore, hurry it up." Ethan had just started to drink and he was thirsty. He lifted his head slightly and put it back down to the water cooler. Davis lifted his glove and slapped it hard across Ethan's back. He said tersely,

"You heard what I said."

Ethan straightened up then, his face white and Michael eased over to them hastily.

"There's plenty of water here, Matthew," Michael protested. "Let's not start any trouble."

Matthew Davis said grimly, "Move away, Moore."

Ethan said slowly, "No."

Davis pushed him hard then backed away, dropping his glove. Ethan straightened up and rushed at Matthew, in a full-blown rage. He hit the redhead a few times in the face, light blows, and then Davis, known as a tough street fighter, knocked him down with several sharp punches to Ethan's face.

Michael moved in between them then, grasping the strong redhead's arms. He said pleadingly, "Look, Matthew, we can't have fights on this team. It is not good. Ethan's one of our players. You are both on the same team."

Ethan got to his feet, blood trickling from his cut mouth. He did not back down. He came around Michael, tears of rage in his eyes, knowing that he was going to take a licking from the huskier, stronger boy, but he was not afraid.

Davis broke away from Michael and as Ethan rushed at him, they met with a flurry of punches, Ethan getting the worst of it again, trying to hold his ground, punching back hard, but having to retreat as Davis kept charging him.

Again, Michael broke in between them and this time Carlos helped him. Michael had not anticipated Carlos as a source of help, figuring others did not want to have the tough Davis turn on them.

Carlos said sourly, "Cut it out, Matthew. You can lick this guy with one hand. Let it go at that."

Davis stepped back, pushing Michael's hands away. He said to Carlos, his face flushed, angry, pale blue eyes wild,

"Keep out of this, you chump."

Carlos looked at him. "Don't call me that," he said slowly.

"Listen," Michael begged, "we can't have this whole club fighting."

"He's tough," Matthew sneered. "Let's see how tough he is." He had forgotten about Ethan, recognizing the fact that Carlos, his own size and with a reputation of his own as a street fighter, was a better match.

Andy Wilson called suddenly, "Here comes a park attendant. We all better get out of here now."

The park attendant had seen the fight between Ethan and Matthew and was walking toward them across the field. His presence broke everything up. Matthew left with Jake. Carlos, his catcher's equipment under his arm, started north across the railroad tracks. Tyrone Johnson went with him. The others split up in different directions, going to their various homes. No doubt, now, there was bad blood between Davis and Rodriguez, the two toughest men on the Cougar team and two of the best batters.

Later that night at dinner Michael's father said to him, "Well, with two straight wins in the league, it looks like your Cougars are going to make a clean sweep of the American League and get into the playoffs."

Michael looked at him glumly.

"No?" his father asked curiously. "Are you having any trouble, Michael?"

_Trouble,_ Michael thought miserably, _is not the word. The word was TURMOIL._

"Tell me about it," Mr. Smith urged.

Michael told him the story of the fight at the park and the remarks Carlos Rodriguez made about Josh Miller.

"I don't think it's just because Josh's father is rich and Carlos' father is poor," Michael muttered. "It goes deeper than that."

"Some boys just do not hit it off with other boys," Mr. Smith said, nodding sympathetically. "I can see you have a problem on your hands, Michael, but keep your chin up. Things always look worse than they really are. When this team of yours really starts clicking you'll see a big difference."

Michael hoped fervently that this was so.

### FIRE THE COACH

On Monday evening, they played the Bulldogs, the team that had beaten Dusty Taylor's team a few days before. Coach Anderson had Josh Miller back on the mound. For three innings, Josh was superb, not allowing a hit while striking out four batters.

The Cougars broke the game wide open in the fourth inning when Ethan, hitting the way Coach had taught him, punched a single to right field. Michael dropped down a nice sacrifice bunt to advance Ethan to second and then Tyrone hit a ball over the left-field fence for his first Little League home run.

Most of the Cougar players whooped it up in the dugout, but Michael noticed Jake out at home plate, watching Tyrone trot around the bases as the crowd applauded him. Jake did not smile. When Tyrone crossed the plate, Jake was swinging two bats, looking the other way. He said nothing.

Jake swung at a bad pitch and lifted a weak foul to third base that the Bulldog third baseman caught easily. He came back to the dugout, scowling, shaking his head in disgust.

Coach Anderson said to him cheerily, "Don't let them get you on those bad pitches, Jake. Make 'em put the ball in your zone, then hit it hard."

"Okay," Jake said stiffly. "Okay."

It was 2 to 0 for the Cougars going into the fourth with Josh still pitching smoothly, so far a no-hitter. Another big crowd was watching the game and Michael saw Josh's parents in their usual spot, away from the rest of the spectators. Obviously, Josh's father was very pleased with his own son's pitching. There was a broad smile on his bulldog face and he puffed his big cigar as if he really enjoyed it.

A new spectator was in the stands this evening, sitting a few rows below the Miller family. A squat, round-faced, dark-eyed man with a clay pipe in his mouth, he was Carlos Rodriguez's father. He was watching his very first baseball game; looking a little puzzled by it all, particularly the garish catcher's equipment his son wore behind the plate.

The Cougars picked up another run when Daniel Garcia walked and promptly stole second, sliding into the bag beautifully, drawing a big cheer from the crowd. He scored on Carlos' ringing double to right center field and when the crowd yelled, Michael noticed Carlos' father standing up, staring, the pipe in his hand, watching his son sprint around first and slide into second with another beautiful hook slide, exactly the way Coach Anderson had taught him.

Mr. Rodriguez started to grin when he realized the crowd was cheering his son and he stood there, very much pleased, but not quite certain about what just happened.

In the fifth inning, the Bulldogs came to life. Josh could not find the plate and the first two Bulldogs walked. The third man hit a ground ball down to third and Matthew Davis fumbled it. Now the bases were loaded. It was the redhead's first error and it made him mad.

The Bulldogs first baseman then slammed a ball against the fence in left field and three runners scored as Andy frantically chased the ball after it bounced from the fence. The score was tied 3 to 3 and the Bulldogs were screaming happily in their dugout with a runner on third base. There were no outs.

Coach Anderson went out to talk with Josh and as he did so Michael, glancing towards the stands, saw Josh's father stand up with his jaw thrust out, hands on his hips, as if he were defying Coach to take his son out of the game. Michael wondered vaguely what he would do if Coach did remove Josh from the pitching circle.

Josh stayed on the mound however, and the Bulldogs scored another run when one of Josh's curves got away from Carlos. The passed ball let the runner in and it made Carlos mad. He fired the ball back at Josh when he recovered it and young Miller stared at him, his jaw tight.

"Keep it up," Carlos snapped. "Keep it up with a runner on third."

The pitch had been low, bouncing in front of Carlos' mitt and spinning away from him. However, Carlos should have put his body in front of it, especially with a runner on base. That was a catcher's biggest responsibility with runners on base.

In the dugout, after the Bulldogs were retired, the pitcher and the catcher had a few words about the pitch, and Michael heard Josh say angrily,

"I can't put every one over the plate. What do you want?"

"Take it easy, gang," Coach Anderson called. "Everybody in here, we'll get that run back." It was 4 to 3 for the Bulldogs now and it was still 4 to 3 in the bottom of the sixth when the Cougars came to bat for the last time.

Tyrone Johnson led off and Michael prayed he would duplicate his early home run and tie up the game. The tall Tyrone did not hit a home run, but he did hit a single right up the middle, the ball bouncing over second base and into center field.

With Jake, Matthew, and Carlos, the big guns of the Cougar batting order were coming up again, and the crowd began to make some noise. Michael wondered what Coach would do now. With no one out the logical call was to bunt and advance the runner to second, giving Davis and Rodriguez the opportunity to bring him home and tie up the game. However, Jake was the Cougar's big hitter and you did not often call upon your home run hitter, the clean up man, for a bunt.

Sitting on the edge of the bench Michael glanced down toward Coach Anderson. Coach was touching his hip, his chin, his right shoulder, his ear, back to his chin. The bunt was on because Jake batted fourth and his spot was the right shoulder. Coach had definitely touched his right shoulder.

Michael glanced at Jake quickly, knowing that the squat Jake would not like that signal from coach. Jake had not hit a home run this evening and he was anxious to get one. A home run would break up the ball game and give the Cougars three straight wins.

Jake had caught the signal because he had touched his cap automatically in acknowledgment. Matthew was out in the batters on-deck circle, kneeling on one knee and Carlos was picking his bat out of the bat rack. Things looked very good for the Cougars and Michael felt excited about that.

Jake was to bunt on the second pitch and Tyrone Johnson watched from first base, ready to break for second. The first pitch was in over the plate and Jake took it for a called strike. It was the kind of pitch Jake liked, a waist high fastball.

There was a little smile on Jake's face as he stood up at the plate, waiting for the Bulldog pitcher. The pitcher put the ball in again, another waist high fastball, and Jake, instead of squaring around to bunt, took a free, full swing.

With a solid "tunk" sound, the ball rocketed off the bat as if shot out of a cannon. It headed for the distant center field fence. The crowd stood up yelling. Cougar players tumbled out of the dugout, howling as the ball passed out of sight over the fence, a home run and another Cougar win.

They gathered around Jake as he came in from his "home run" trot around the bases. Everybody pounded his back. Even Michael came up to slap him on the shoulder, but he felt a little queasy inside. Jake's third homer of the season won the game for the Cougars, but he had deliberately ignored Coach Anderson's bunt signal.

Michael looked toward the dugout. The crowd was coming out on the field. Friends and relatives were swarming around the victorious Cougar players. Jake's family was there, his father and two older brothers, grinning and laughing together. Mr. Miller was speaking with his son, rubbing his shoulder, very pleased.

Coach Anderson stood alone in the dugout, smiling also, with his hands in his pockets. He had the hottest team in the Springdale Little League with three straight wins, but Michael Smith saw the troubled look in the tall man's pale blue eyes.

When Jake finally broke away from his family and came to the dugout to pick up his glove coach called to him. Michael was standing close enough to hear the conversation.

The Cougar coach scratched his chin, looked across the field and said slowly, "You see my signal, Jake, the signal to bunt?"

Jake was unabashed. "Sure," he replied glibly, "but the ball was right over the plate. I thought I could drive it right up the middle and I did."

"You didn't miss the signal, then?" Coach asked softly.

"No, I didn't," Jake said stiffly. "But the homer won the game, didn't it?"

Coach Anderson nodded. "We play the Red Sox on Thursday night, Jake. Do not wear your uniform to that game."

Jakes eyes bulged. "What?" he sputtered.

"You're suspended for one game," Coach told him calmly, "for disobeying a signal."

He walked away leaving Jake staring after him, open-mouthed.

"I hit a homer," Jake sputtered, looking at Michael. "I won the game!"

Michael did not say anything.

"What a lousy coach," Jake squealed. "What a lousy, rotten coach!"

"Everybody has to obey the signals," Michael tried to tell him. "Coach is working for the good of the team."

"I'll quit the team," Jake snarled. "I won't play anymore or I'll play for another team. That's what I'll do."

"You can't," Michael said. "You can if Coach decides to trade you."

"Then he'd better trade me," Jake snapped, so angry there were tears in his eyes. "I hit a home run. I won the game!"

He could not get over that. He kept repeating it every time he spoke to one of the other players about the suspension, but that Thursday evening when the Cougars took the field against Dusty Taylor's Red Sox, Jake Jones sat in the stands with one of his brothers, watching grimly. He was not in uniform. Cris Martinez was in right field, taking his place.

Some of the Cougar players did not like it very much, either. Matthew Davis said tersely,

"What's the matter with coach, anyway? Jake's our best hitter and he won the game against the Bulldogs."

"That's not the point," Michael tried to tell him. "Suppose everybody on the club didn't obey the signals? We would have complete chaos on the field. Suppose Jake hadn't hit a home run and we'd lost that Bulldog game?"

"But, he did hit a home run," Matthew Davis said. "That's what counts. Maybe coach shouldn't have given him the bunt signal to begin with."

Michael shook his head in exasperation. "We can't look at it that way, Matthew. We cannot have nine players on the field doing whatever they want, whenever they want. There must be order."

"I would like to see a coach like Dusty Taylor handling this team," Davis told him.

Michael's lip tightened. "All right," he snapped. "The Red Sox are in last place and we're in first. What does that look like?"

"It looks to me," Matthew told him evenly, "that we're just good, regardless of the coach."

Michael looked at him hopelessly. In addition to all the other troubles they were having, the Cougars were now letting their egos get in the way. Their heads were swelling!

He noticed that Ethan and Matthew did not talk to one another at all. Since the fight at the water cooler, each played as if the other did not exist. There was also definite tension between Davis and Carlos. That, Michael realized, might some day break out into a real brawl.

Willie Brown was on the mound for the Cougars when they took the field against the Red Sox. Ethan Moore, leading off for the Cougars, promptly slapped a single into left field on the first pitched ball and Michael could see that coach's time spent with the little shortstop was paying off. Ethan was coming around quickly.

Coach Anderson flashed the bunt signal from the dugout steps, touching his left hip as he went through a series of spots on his tall frame. Michael acknowledged him and then bunted the second pitch down the third base line, nearly beating the throw to first.

Tyrone Johnson flied out to right field. Then Carlos, hitting in Jake's clean-up spot, slammed a hard single to center field. Ethan scored on a nice slide, beating the throw to the plate and the crowed yelled.

Again, Michael saw Carlos' father in the stands, seated with two of his friends, the three of them grinning broadly when they realized that the cheers were for the stalwart catcher.

Then Matthew scored Rodriguez with a long double to right-center field, bringing in the second Cougar run while Jake, sitting in the bleacher seats, looked a little forlorn, realizing that the Cougars could play and win without him.

The Cougars scored three runs in the first inning, getting off to a nice lead. Willie Brown pitched good baseball for four innings, allowing three hits and one run. In the fifth inning, however, the roof fell in on Willie and the Red Sox socked him around for four runs.

Coach had Joseph Williams warmed up in the bullpen and was able to relieve Willie to stop the slaughter. Joseph got them out of the inning with no more pain, but the damage remained. It was 5 to 3 for the Red Sox now and the Cougar dugout was very quiet. The Red Sox pitcher, after his bad start, had settled down and was moving along steadily.

Michael nicked him for a sharp signal in the fifth inning, but could not get beyond second base. In the last inning, while it was still 5 to 3 for the Red Sox, the grumbling started on the Cougar bench.

Matthew Davis said, "We'd be ahead if Jake was in the line-up."

Michael realized that there was good reason in his statement too, because Cris Martinez, who was filling in, had no hits in his three at bats, failing twice with runners in scoring position.

Coach Anderson was out talking with Garcia before Daniel went up to bat at the start of the sixth and last inning.

Michael said, "We're not whipped, yet. We pulled the Bulldog game out of the bag in the last inning and we will do the same with this one too."

"With Jake in the lineup," Davis commented.

Carlos Rodriguez said from the other end of the bench, "How many coaches do we have on this team anyway?"

The redhead stood up and looked down at him. It was the first time Carlos had addressed him since the trouble at the park field. Davis said slowly, distinctly,

"Somebody ask you, Rodriguez?"

"I'm telling you," Carlos snapped, "Jake got in trouble because he wanted to hit a home run. It was his own fault he disobeyed coach by not bunting. This team is not about what Jake wants."

Michael felt elated that someone besides himself was now supporting Coach Anderson, but the elation was short lived because he now realized how close Davis and Rodriguez were to fisticuffs.

Coach Anderson came back and neither player said another word on the subject, but the embers were smoldering and all it needed was a small breeze to bring them to a blaze.

Daniel Garcia dropped down a beautiful bunt and beat it out for a hit, giving the Cougars new life in the last inning. It brought up Cris Martinez, who was a weak hitter, so Coach Anderson called time to substitute Josh Miller in to pinch hit for Cris. With no bunt signal, Josh was clearly hitting away.

When Matthew Davis saw that, Michael heard him say tersely,

"He lets this guy hit away, but poor Jake had to bunt. Why is that, because Miller's rich?"

"That's silly," Michael scowled. "We need two runs tonight. Against the Bulldogs we only needed one run."

Josh hit into a double play and then Ethan flied out to right field. The game was over and the Cougars now felt what it was like to lose a Little League baseball game.

They walked off the field glumly with the cheers this time for the Red Sox, who had played good baseball and deserved the win.

Michael walked with Andy Wilson and Willie Brown. Willie was upset because the Red Sox had knocked him off the mound. Up ahead of him he saw Carlos walking with Tyrone Johnson and they were discussing the game.

Jake had come over to join the team after the last out and he was walking with Matthew Davis. From the expression on Jake's face, Michael could see he was selfishly pleased that the Cougars had been unable to win without him. Michael heard him say smugly to Davis as the two players walked by,

"What did you expect? You can't win games with a coach like that."

Carlos overheard the remark, also, and he turned around, his mouth hard. He said grimly, "You still crabbing, Jake, because you were told to bunt and didn't?"

"Never mind," Jake growled.

"Maybe," Matthew Davis said, "he has a right to crab. Maybe you would too, Rodriguez, if you had to sit on the bench."

"It was his own fault," Carlos snapped. "If we lost the game tonight because he wasn't playing, that was his fault too."

"No, it was coach's fault," Jake told him thickly. "Don't you think I wanted to play ball?"

"Don't listen to him, Jake," Matthew Davis advised. "He's a dumb..."

The redhead never finished the sentence. Carlos leaped at him, punching with both fists and Davis fought back with relish. They were swinging at each other, grunting, with Michael trying to get in between them when Coach Anderson came up.

The tall coach stepped in between them, parting the fighters. He was not smiling now and Michael noticed that his mouth was tight. Coach said quietly,

"That's the last fight on this club, boys. The next time I catch anyone using his fists he will be suspended for five games. Remember that. Am I clear?"

The other Cougar players stood in a small circle, some looking down, others looking away. Carlos was rubbing his hands. Matthew's nose was bleeding a little, but his eyes were hard and cold.

They were outside the ball field and not many people had witnessed the quick exchange of blows, but a few had and had paused curiously. Coach Anderson went on slowly,

"The Little League was organized to help boys and girls your age learn about the great game of baseball in an organized fashion. It is a fantastic organization and it is very important we keep it that way. It has a great reputation for good sportsmanship and clean play, with boys behaving like men, girls behaving like women, and all of us behaving like big leaguers. You fellows didn't look like gentlemen, let alone, big leaguers tonight."

They were all listening to him now and Michael saw Matthew look down at his shoes.

"Just like most teams, we've had our little troubles," coach went on slowly, "but this team of ours, I really believe, is special. We can go places if we stick together. I am doing the best I can. I know I may not be the best coach in the league and that most of you fellows would have rather played with Dusty Taylor's Red Sox, but I cannot help that. All I can do is teach you what I know about this great game. Maybe Dusty knows a lot more. But, you guys will have to learn someday that when you play baseball you have to play it all out, give everything you've got and then reach back and give some more, regardless of who you are playing for." He turned away and he said gruffly over his shoulder, "You boys better go home now."

He walked towards his old jalopy alone and then Michael ran after him.

"Coach," Michael called. "Coach!"

Coach Anderson turned around as he was opening the door of his car. "What's the matter, kid?" he asked.

"I'll play ball for you," Michael choked, "and uh, and I'm glad I'm playing for you rather than Dusty Taylor."

Coach Anderson looked down at him and then he looked away. It was getting dark now outside the ball field and Michael could not see his face clearly.

"Kid, I only got as high as Class A ball. I was a catcher. I wish I could have gotten up to the big leagues like Dusty and starred in it, but it did not work out that way for me. I do not know why, maybe I just didn't have it. I gave it everything I had, but it was not good enough. That is how it worked out for me, but I still love this game Michael. I would love to manage a club, a big club in organized baseball, but if this is the best I can do kid, then so be it. I am not going to regret it. However, I will promise you one thing and that is I will work just as hard with this Little League club as I would if I were managing a big league club. You can count on it, Michael."

"I know," Michael nodded. "I know you will, coach."

Coach Anderson put a hand on his shoulder. He said softly, "I am glad I got one little buddy on this club. Thanks a lot Michael. Maybe we will lick 'em anyway. They might try to keep one good guy down, but they can not ever keep two of us down."

"That's right," Michael grinned. He was feeling better already, even though he knew the Cougars were troubled and a team in that condition seldom got anywhere.

### WINNING THE PENNANT

The Cougars went on a rampage after the Red Sox defeat, winning five straight games, and pushing away from the pack in the American League. With the regular season more than half over, the league standings showed the Cougars two and a half games ahead of the second place Bulldogs, with eight games left.

The Giants in the Springdale National League were far ahead of the other three clubs in their four-team league, undefeated in nine starts and looking to clinch their pennant soon.

With the regular season schedule winding down, the Cougars began preparing for another meeting against the second place Bulldogs. The Bulldogs had won three straight and were not yet willing to concede the American League pennant to the Cougars.

Coach Anderson started Cris Martinez against the Bulldogs because Josh Miller had worked against the Red Sox three days before and had thrown exactly eighty-five pitches, so he could not pitch at all. The league ruling was that a pitcher could not work again until he had four days full rest after throwing so many pitches. Tyrone's mother had volunteered, before the very first game, to record the pitch count for the Cougars and was very serious about it.

Matthew Davis said before the game got under way, "If we beat these fellows once more we're practically in, and I don't see how we can help but beat them."

"Let's not talk that way," Michael warned him.

"All right," the redhead said, grinning. "We beat them twice, already, didn't we?"

"Today's another day," Michael observed, "and the Bulldogs know they have to stop us if they want to stay in the race. Besides, have you ever heard of the revenge factor? Their focus will catch up with our cockiness if we are not careful."

"They have about as much chance of winning as they do of stopping a freight train," Davis said. "We'll roll right over them."

In the first inning, they looked as if they were ready to roll. Hitting the Bulldog pitcher freely, they chalked up four runs, including a Tyrone Johnson home run with a man on base.

"That's it," Davis said, laughing as he raced out to third, the Bulldogs coming in for their turn at bat.

The first Bulldog dropped a bunt down the third-base line, catching Davis sleeping. He grinned sheepishly as he picked up the ball after fumbling it a few times.

"He'll die there, Cris," he told the pitcher. "Don't worry about him."

The next Bulldog pushed a bunt down towards first base and both Tyrone Johnson and Cris Martinez went after it. On a bunt to first, Michael needed to race over from second and cover the bag for Tyrone, but he was not paying attention either. Because first base was not covered, both runners were safe.

Cris Martinez looked at Coach Anderson on the bench and Michael could see that Cris was worried. He walked the next man to fill the bases and then the Bulldog clean-up batter doubled off the right field fence, scoring all three runners. He scored later on another single to right center field. The score was now tied 4 to 4, with no outs and a man on first.

Coach Anderson came out to talk with Cris Martinez while the Bulldogs whooped it up in their dugout. Cris stayed in the game, worked hard on the next batter, and got him to hit a roller down to third.

Davis stormed in fast to pick up the slow roller and let it go through his legs. The next batter hit a high fly to Jake Jones and Jake got under it like a big leaguer, and then lost the ball, which allowed the fifth run to cross the plate, putting the Bulldogs in the lead.

It was 5 to 4 at the start of the second inning and Michael could see the worry and concern on the faces of the Cougars as they sat in the dugout. They had thought themselves to be unbeatable, yet the Bulldogs were kicking them around as if they were the last-place Eagles.

The Cougars went down in one-two-three order and the Bulldogs next at bat chased Cris Martinez off the mound with two hits, then an error by Andy Wilson. Andy let a hard grounder go through his legs with two runners on base and both runners scored, the batter going to third. It was now 7 to 4, Bulldogs on top. Willie Brown came in, but Willie threw a home run ball to the Bulldogs clean-up hitter and it was 9 to 4, just like that.

"Let's get started," Michael called worriedly.

They were having trouble getting started. The Bulldog pitcher was very effective after the first inning, for the Cougars could not get any runners past second base.

It was 11 to 4 for the Bulldogs in the fifth with only one inning remaining. Coach Anderson called for that big rally in the fifth, but it was the Bulldogs who rallied, chasing four more runs across the plate, making the score 15 to 4 and it stood that way when the final Cougar out was made.

A soundly whipped Cougar squad left the field, none of them with anything to say. It was not a game lost because of bad breaks or because of a single misplay. The whole team had played poorly and the Bulldogs had played well.

"One of those things," Coach Anderson said, trying to be cheerful about it. "We had a bad night. Next week we will do better. We are still in first place."

Looking at the Cougar coach, Michael had the peculiar feeling that Coach was happy because of the loss. He did not say that, but it was in his body language.

"Every club has one bad game in its system," Coach Anderson tried to tell them. "Now, we have gotten rid of ours."

On the way home with his father in the car, Michael mentioned his observation and Mr. Smith said quietly,

"I wouldn't be surprised if Coach Anderson was glad you lost, Michael."

"What?" Michael gasped.

"You boys were getting too arrogant and cocky," Mr. Smith told him. "You were beginning to think nobody could beat you. Why even the best team in the big leagues loses many ball games over the course of a season? I think Coach Anderson realized your arrogance and cockiness and felt you needed an adjustment. You will all play better ball next week. Just hide and watch."

"I hope so," Michael muttered. "We really would like to go to the play offs. Dad, can you imagine us going to Williamsport and playing in the Little League World Series?"

"The Cougars didn't look like a World Series contender this evening," his father said with a smile. "However, you do have a fine young team. I think you'll get back in stride pretty quickly."

They did get back in stride three days later, with Josh Miller on the mound, against the lowly Eagles. A quiet, subdued, and grim Cougar team took the field. They made no errors all evening. It was the first time since the season opened that they had played a perfect game in the field.

At bat they scored eight times as Josh shut out the Eagles with three hits for an 8 to 0 victory. They were still in first place and the following evening the Red Sox whipped the Bulldogs, helping the Cougars to consolidate their hold on the top rung in the standings. With two-thirds of the games played of the scheduled eighteen, the Cougars now had a two game lead on the Bulldogs and it seemed safe.

However, the Cougars were not yet a complete team that played together as one should. Matthew Davis and Carlos Rodriguez had nothing to do with each other. Rodriguez did not care for Josh Miller. Davis had no use for Ethan Moore, even though Ethan was developing into a very fine fielder and hitting consistently.

Jake Jones was jealous of Tyrone Johnson because Tyrone was challenging him for the league home run crown. Both boys had hit six home runs each as the end of the regular season approached. Then Jake hit two home runs against the Red Sox as the Cougars soundly trounced Dusty Taylor's team by a 12 to 3 score; later Jake clinched the title with another home run against the Bulldogs in the final league game, giving him the home run championship and the Cougars the pennant.

Michael said to Willie Brown on the evening they won the pennant,

"How far do you think we will go, Willie?"

Willie shook his head. "Hard to say," he smiled. "We have to beat the Giants of the Springdale National League and then we go to the district tournament and then to the sectional tournament and then the regional tournament..."

"Wait a minute," Michael said. "Let's keep the Giants in mind first."

That same evening after they won the pennant, Coach Anderson had hesitatingly asked Michael about his parents letting the team use their basement or patio for a pennant victory celebration the following night.

"My place isn't big enough," Coach Anderson explained. "Of course I'll bring all the party favors; you know the soda pops, the hamburgers, the ice cream, and cake. You think it will be alright?"

Michael grinned. "My Mom and Dad already discussed it with me," he said. Then remembering Coach Anderson's old car and the kind of clothes coach wore he said, "Of course you're not supposed to pay for the anything, coach. I think most of the fathers..."

Coach stopped Michael right there, shaking his head vigorously. "My team," he stated. "This party is on me, Michael."

The party was a huge success, with all of the parents turning out for it except Josh Miller's folks, who were out of town. Josh was present however, and seemed to unwind in his parent's absence.

Andy Wilson's father called upon coach for a speech as they were cutting the big cake. Coach Anderson said a few words, red-faced, fumbling, telling the parents what good kids they had and how he hoped they would go far in the tournament playoffs.

While watching the tall, gaunt, homely man speak to the crowd, Michael got emotional. He remembered how he felt when he learned Coach Anderson had picked him for the Cougars instead of Dusty Taylor for the Red Sox.

Ethan Moore's father, the tailor, was there. Mr. Garcia, the restaurateur and Carlos Rodriguez' father, a banker, talked it up. Tyrone Johnson's father was sitting at the end of the couch, shy, aloof, and alone, but only for a moment. Mr. Smith went over and introduced himself, breaking the ice, and making him feel right at home. You could tell both men were proud of their boys.

Mr. Garcia, a short, chubby, shiny-faced man, made a speech, saying how wonderful it was that this Cougar team of kids was bringing together so many adults from all over town to an affair like this. He offered his sincere appreciation for the celebration.

Michael watched Coach Anderson sitting in the corner, smiling, taking it all in. Coach Anderson, who did not have a family, had found one here with this Little League team. He looked very happy.

### PLAYOFFS BEGIN

The Giants, winners of the National League pennant in Springdale won the toss in the single elimination play off game and took the field before a capacity crowd at their league park. Coach Anderson had Josh ready to pitch with Willie Brown available if Josh should weaken. One loss now would eliminate the Cougars and Coach intended to start his ace hurler every game or whenever possible, through the playoff season.

The Cougars started without any wasted time. Ethan Moore grounded out, but Michael doubled to right field on his first pitch. Tyrone Johnson singled him to third and then the power side of the Cougar line-up literally blasted the Giant pitcher off the mound.

Jake tripled; Matthew doubled; Carlos followed with another double, and four runs were in. Yelling with the others in the dugout, Michael saw the look of amazement on Coach Anderson's face. Even the Cougar coach had not imagined that much power in his batting line-up.

Josh pitched his usual smooth, consistent game and the final score was 11 to 1 for the Cougars. The win advanced them to the district playoff tournament, the first small step on the long trail to the top. There were sixteen district winners playing for the district championship, with the winner advancing to the sectional tournament.

Michael Smith tried not to think beyond the district championship, but he could not help himself. It was almost inconceivable that the Cougars would get beyond the district playoffs, but it was there in the back of his mind all the time as they practiced and prepared to travel up to Lakeview for the opening game.

Andy Wilson said to him that evening after the Giants win, "Think we have a chance, Michael?"

Michael nodded. "We have as good a chance of beating Lakeview as they have of beating us."

"I didn't mean that," Andy muttered. 'I was thinking of the world championship, playing in the Williamsport Stadium for the Little League World Series."

Michael stared at him. "Do you know what that means?" he asked. "We can't lose a game. We've got to beat Lakeview and we've got to beat everybody we come up against all the way to Williamsport."

"I know," Andy nodded. "I know."

"Stop talking about it," Michael told him. "It's supposed to be bad luck to do that."

"I can think, can't I?" Andy chuckled. "I can dream, can't I?"

Michael was dreaming too, realizing how wild the dream was. Any Little League team, which reached the playoffs in the Little League World Series Championship tournament, would have to be a truly great team; a real team pulling together as one, fighting like mad for every run, every pitch, bearing down every moment. The Cougars were far from being that kind of team, not when four or five players were not even talking to each other.

Four busloads and several cars filled with players, friends, and parents drove thirty miles to Lakeview, to witness the Lakeview and Springdale contest in the district playoff game. The Springdale Little League Association chartered the bus the players were riding in. This was a Saturday afternoon game and as they drove up late Saturday morning, Coach Anderson was as nervous as a mother hen with a dozen fluttering chicks scattered around a barnyard. The players could scarcely sit still in their seats and Coach, sitting up front with the driver, kept calling back to them repeatedly,

"Okay gang, Take it easy. Relax back there."

Lakeview, a city of over one hundred thousand people, was four times bigger than the town of Springdale and the Lakeview Little League Park facility was about twice the size of the Springdale Park. The playing field, of course, was the same size as required by league rules, but there were at least four thousand Lakeview fans in the stands when the two teams took the field.

The Lakeview team had a left-hander on the mound by the name of Jimmy Ray Bell, a tall, rangy, dark-haired boy. Bell could pitch and he threw hard. He struck out Ethan, and then he struck out Michael. Tyrone Johnson managed to hit a Texas league blooper for a single to right, but then Jimmy Ray Bell fanned the tough Jake Jones to end the inning.

Carlos said to Michael after Jake fanned, "This is going to be a ball game. That lefty throws heat. Stay loose."

Josh started for the Cougars with Willie Brown and Cris Martinez available from the bullpen. Josh was as good as ever against the Lakeview sluggers. After three innings of play the score was tied 0 to 0 and Michael noticed Josh was really working hard, bearing down, throwing everything he had on every pitch. Michael knew he would tire in the late innings. Bell, on the other hand, was working very smooth and easy. His form was excellent.

In the fourth however, the Lakeview club broke the ice, reaching Josh for a walk and two hits, giving them a run and a 1 to 0 lead. It was obvious Josh was getting tired.

Nevertheless, with one out and two Lakeview runners on, Ethan and Michael broke up the incipient rally. They pulled off a beautiful double play on a hard-hit ball over second. Ethan went behind the bag for the ball to field it. He flipped it to Michael, who whirled and fired it to Tyrone Johnson for the double play. The crowd gave them a big hand on the play and Coach Anderson slapped both of them on the back when they came in to the dugout for the top half of the fifth inning.

"We need to get that run back," Michael said grimly. "Start us off, Andy."

Andy did start them off with a nice single over third. Coach flashed the bunt signal to Daniel Garcia, who dropped a bunt beautifully down the first base line to pull the first baseman in to field it. Daniel then beat the left-handed Bell on the pitcher's banana run to the bag. Two Cougar runners were on with no outs. Bunting down the first base line was always a good call on a left-handed pitcher.

Josh came up to hit, with Ethan on deck and Michael in the hole. Josh, given the sign to bunt as well, placed the ball in a perfect spot in front of the plate, which advanced both runners. The Lakeview catcher threw Josh out at first base and it brought Ethan to the plate with one away, runner on first and third.

Ethan looked at Michael in the batter on-deck circle as the left-hander threw four wide balls, intentionally walking Ethan to load the bases for the force out anywhere. Coach Anderson came out to speak with Michael and he said quietly,

"You've done this before, Michael. This is just another ball game and it is not the last inning this time. We do have another at bat. So, just take it easy and hit the ball. We're going to score a few runs on this guy."

Michael just nodded, but there was a lump in his throat and he was breathing with difficulty. He had struck out once against Bell and the second time he had rolled a weak grounder back to the mound. He had heard about this Jimmy Ray Bell kid, whose fastball clocked in at 72 miles per hour on a radar gun. From 46 feet away that was pure heat. He knew that he was batting against a good pitcher and he felt uneasy about being able to get a hit. However, coach's pep talk made him feel better. He wanted to make good contact for the team, for Springdale, and most of all, for Coach Anderson. Coach had never really gotten anywhere as a ball player even though he loved this game of baseball and his new family of ballplayers.

Jimmy Ray Bell pitched a curve ball, which broke right over the plate for a called strike. Michael wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. He made eye contact with the three Cougar base runners and he could hear the yells of encouragement from the Cougar dugout. They had to win. They had to win every game.

Bell pitched again on the inside corner and Michael's eyes lit up with an instant reaction. He swung his bat at the ball, driving the ball down the first base line. The Lakeview first baseman lunged at it but missed and the ball rattled down the right field line, fair by six inches.

Two runners came in and Michael slid into second with a double. He got up, dusted himself off, and listened to the noise from the contingent of Springdale fans rooting. It was for him. He saw Coach Anderson grinning, shaking a fist at him from the dugout steps. It felt great to be alive. It felt great to be a Little Leaguer playing to win a baseball game.

They did not score another run that inning, but the score was 2 to 1 for the Cougars and everybody felt much better. There was talk and a lot of chatter in the Cougar infield now.

In their bottom half of the fifth inning, the first Lakeview batter singled to lead off. The next batter failed to drop a sacrifice bunt and Carlos threw out the base runner who was trying to steal second. Carlos threw the ball down with the force of a big leaguer and Michael tagged the runner in plenty of time. Carlos had such a natural quick release of the baseball for a Little League catcher. Trying to steal on Carlos was never a good idea.

In the bottom of the sixth and last inning, the Lakeview team threatened again, and this time in earnest. Josh was on his last legs, his curve ball was not breaking off as it had in the early innings and his control was not as sharp.

Coach Anderson had Willie Brown warmed up in the bullpen at the start of the sixth. Josh had walked the first batter. The second batter had singled to right. With runners on first and second and no one out, the big Lakeview crowd had begun to make some noise.

As Josh stood there with sagging shoulders, Coach Anderson asked for timeout from the umpire and walked out to the mound. Michael trotted in and stood to listen as coach spoke. Josh's parents were in the sector behind the Cougar dugout and Michael could see Josh's father, standing up, glaring at Coach Anderson. It was apparent he did not want the Cougar coach to take his son out of the game.

Coach said, "You're tired, aren't you Josh?"

Josh nodded. He was looking at the ground.

"Arm hurt?" Coach asked.

"A little," Josh admitted.

"Okay," coach said simply. "I'm putting Willie in, Josh. I want you to understand your opponent is not knocking you out of the game. You're tired and it's for the good of the team that I take you out."

Josh looked at him. To leave a game once he had started it was a new sensation for him. He did not like it too well, but he nodded, seeing the logic in Coach Anderson's statement.

Coach waved a hand to the bullpen and Willie Brown came in. Michael saw Josh Miller's father take a big half-smoked cigar from his mouth and throw it down angrily. He sat back down, arms crossed, his face literally glowering, red with rage.

Willie Brown was nervous too, knowing he had to protect that slim one run lead. Michael said to his neighborhood chum,

"You can do it Willie. We're all behind you."

Willie nodded gratefully. Coach Anderson said quietly,

"The infield plays back for the double play and remember we're in the lead. They have to make one run to tie us, two runs to beat us. Do you know how hard that is? Let them do the worrying. You, just relax out there."

Willie Brown pitched carefully and got the first man on a pop-up to Matthew Davis. The next batter, the Lakeview cleanup hitter, slapped a hard, spinning grounder to second. Michael fielded it, threw it to Ethan Moore who was skipping over from short, and Ethan whipped the ball across to the tall Tyrone Johnson at first. The throw was wide of the bag, but Tyrone stretched out and made a sensational catch, keeping his foot on the bag. The field umpire hesitated, and then he waved the runner out, ending the game. The Springdale Cougars were still in the tournament.

### FALLING APART

Two days after the win over Lakeview Michael heard the news of the trouble in the Miller Mills. He knew Coach Anderson had a job at the mill and had been there for a number of years.

Cris Martinez, whose father also worked in the mills, told Michael about it.

"Coach was up for a promotion in his department," Cris explained. "Everybody thought he was surely going to be a superintendent, but another man got the job and we all know why."

"What do you mean?" Michael asked slowly.

"Mr. Miller didn't like it that coach took Josh out of the game against Lakeview," Cris said bluntly. "That was his way of getting back at coach. He could not fire coach because the union would not let him. That's how Mr. Miller got around it."

"But," Michael spluttered, "Josh was tired. He even knew himself that it was better he be relieved. Coach Anderson even told him why he had to take him out."

"I guess Josh's father didn't look at it that way," Cris growled. "He probably thought his precious son was knocked out of the game since coach did not leave him in to finish it. He probably felt that coach embarrassed Josh in front of thousands of people. Therefore, he retaliated by not giving coach the promotion he deserved and was supposed to get.

"Does Josh know about this?" Michael asked.

"I haven't seen Josh since the Lakeview game," Cris said, "but I'll bet he knows it and I'll bet he's glad."

"I don't believe it," Michael said firmly. "Josh is not like that."

"I don't know what he's like," Cris said. "All I know is that coach was supposed to get that promotion and he didn't get it. Pop says all the people in his department are talking about it."

Michael went immediately to coach's house. It was nearly four-thirty in the afternoon and coach was due back from the plant in a few minutes. Michael sat on the porch waiting for him, feeling a little sick about the whole business, knowing the effect it would have upon the team. Josh Miller was their star pitcher and without Josh, they would go nowhere in the tournament. Now, a good many of the players might dislike Josh intensely and think he had been behind the trouble at the mill.

Coach came down the sidewalk carrying his lunch cooler. As he eased up on the porch, he looked at Michael and smiled saying, "How goes it, captain. What's going on?"

Michael was not sure how to begin. He finally blurted out, "Is it true, coach, that you didn't get a promotion at the mill because you took Josh out of the game against Lakeview?"

Coach Anderson looked at Michael and frowned. "Who's making that kind of talk up?" he asked quietly.

"It's, it's going around," Michael stammered. "Is it true, Coach?"

Coach Anderson scratched his chin and then laughed. "Look kid," he said, "maybe a lot of people thought I was in line to be promoted and if they did, they thought wrong. Maybe this other fellow got the promotion because he is the better person for the job. I'm not upset about it."

"But it's wrong," Michael protested. "If Mr. Miller was behind it because you took his son out of the game that is wrong. Obviously, Josh had never been removed from the mound before and Mr. Miller didn't like it."

Coach laughed again. "As far as I'm concerned," he said, "Mr. Miller doesn't even know I work at the mill. There are over two thousand men and women at that plant. I'm just one little guy in one small department."

""I want to talk to Josh about it," Michael said.

Coach Anderson shook his head emphatically. "I don't want you to do that, Michael," he said quickly. "Keep Josh out of it. If there is anything behind this crazy story, Josh had nothing to do with it. I'll personally guarantee that."

Michael left after a while, promising that he would not speak to Josh about it, though he certainly did not feel very happy about the situation.

There was a practice session scheduled for the next evening with the second game of the district tournament to take place the following day. They had drawn Marshall, a town sixty miles away.

Michael arrived at the park practice field a little before five o'clock, walking down with Willie Brown. As he crossed the street and entered the park, he saw a tight knot of Cougar players on the infield and then he heard the sounds. They were not pleasant at all.

"It's a fight, Michael," Willie said quickly.

His heart pumping, Michael raced toward the scene. It had been a long time since any of the Cougar players had fought another, but there was a fight and they were throwing punches. As Michael got closer, he could see two boys in the middle of the group, pummeling each other.

"Carlos," Willie Brown panted.

Michael thought at first that Carlos was fighting Matthew Davis because there had been bad blood between them, but when he pushed through the crowd of yelling boys, he saw that Carlos's opponent was Josh Miller. Josh's nose was bleeding, but he seemed to be holding his own, giving as much as he got.

"Hold it!" Michael yelled.

Willie Brown grabbed Josh and Michael came up behind Carlos, holding his arms and pulling the two fighters apart.

"All right," Carlos snarled. "Let me alone, Michael."

"What's the matter?" Michael asked him. "This is foolish, Carlos."

"It's not funny to our coach," Carlos snapped. "That guy's father gave him a dirty deal at the mill just because his prized son was taken out of a game."

"I don't know what you are talking about," Josh flared. "I just heard the story here."

"You put him up to it," Carlos said bitterly. "You're a spoiled rotten brat and you can't take it."

Josh tried to break away from Willie Brown and throw a punch, but Andy Wilson stepped in to help Willie and they both held Josh firmly.

"There is coach now," Daniel Garcia called. "Better break it up."

Michael released Carlos as Willie and Andy let Josh loose. Josh walked away, pinching his nose to stop the bleeding. Coach Anderson strolled up, his face expressionless. Michael was positive he had seen some of the fight from a distance, but he said nothing about it.

"Let's get going gang," the Cougar coach said.

They held an easy practice session that included batting and bunting practice, drilling the infield with grounders and game situations, and plenty of fly balls to the outfield. Josh came over to Michael after the infield session and asked slowly, "What's all this about, Michael?"

Michael explained the rumor going around while Josh listened, biting his lip.

"Father never tells me anything about his business," he said slowly when Michael finished.

"I was sure of that," Michael said heartily. I'm not blaming you if it did happen that way, Josh."

"I'm going to speak to my father about this," Josh promised. "I'd rather not pitch anymore than have this happen.

"If you don't pitch," Michael told him, "we'll never get beyond Marshall tomorrow evening. Willie Brown is pretty good, but we need you against these top teams."

Josh said slowly, "Coach told me I was starting against Marshall tomorrow. It doesn't look as if he's trying to get back at my father, does, it?"

"Coach isn't built that way," Michael said.

"He has a right to though," Josh murmured. "He should have been sore and he should have started Willie Brown out of spite."

"Coach wants to win," Michael said. "That's all he thinks about and I'm sure he doesn't believe you were behind any of this business. He said he thinks this whole story is nonsense. Besides, being spiteful or vengeful is not part of who coach is."

"I don't believe it was a mistake," Josh said. "I, I'm really sorry about my father's decision, Michael. I wished it had never happened."

At the end of the practice session as it was getting dark, coach called a halt. When the players came in from the field, he said quietly,

"Everybody sit down on."

The Cougar squad sat down, with Coach Anderson standing up in front of them. Michael started to chew on the edge of his batting glove. He looked up at the Cougar coach outlined against the pink-orange evening sky. Coach seemed very tall and did not look so homely in the dim light. As Michael stared at him, it appeared as if coach's features had changed. He was still thin in the face with his carroty hair mussed a little, but the twilight sky made him look stronger.

Coach Anderson said, "We've had a little more trouble on this team and I guess we all feel bad about it. I do not like it because this is a good team and it could go a long way in this tournament. I do not believe I have ever seen a more gifted and talented Little League team anywhere. Each of you seems to have a natural ability to play this game, every one of you wants to learn how to get better, and I feel honored to have the privilege of coaching you."

The players were listening quietly, hardly moving on the turf.

"This is a good team," Coach went on, "but not a great team. However, you boys are so close to being one, a team that could go all the way and win this thing. We have pitching, we have fielding, and we have hitting. However, we do not have that one combination we really need to become a great team. We have no team spirit and we lack unity."

Michael saw him put his hands in his pockets and look down at the ground.

"I don't know," he said almost helplessly. "I don't know what to do. Maybe the fault is mine. Maybe it is because you are from so many different backgrounds that you think you cannot get along simply for that reason. There is nothing I can do about those wheels turning inside your heads, but I can tell you one thing, and that is, we all bleed the same color. We can most certainly get along."

He was speaking earnestly now, moving his hands to state a point. "We have to recognize our troubles and try that much harder to work them out because each one of you knows what it means when we do. Winning this tournament is a pretty, big deal. We can get there and we will get there, but only as a team of one. You must understand, the letter I is not in the word TEAM. Each one of you is going to have to give a little and take a little to get where we want to be as a team. Our wheels must be spinning in the same direction for the same goal or we can pack it in. Now if we do come together, please understand you will never forget these moments in your life or forget one another for as long as you live."

No one made a sound. They sat on the grass in the park, their faces outlined from the evening light and then Michael noticed the star, bright and shining, directly above Coach Anderson's head. It was a very big star, the evening star.

"There are a dozen of us here," coach said slowly, "and all of us are members of a Little League baseball team called the Springdale Cougars. Even though each one of you might come from a different part of town or lead a different life away from this team, when we come together on that field of play, we have to show the world that we do get along with each other, that we are one team. Right here and right now is the place where we must prove that we are a team, that we are dedicated to each other for our team goal."

He shoved his hands in his back pockets and he looked down at them for a moment in silence before going on. They could no longer see his face, but an outline of it. The sky was getting dark while he stood with his back towards the remaining light.

"Maybe this baseball team isn't important to you personally," coach said, "and maybe the name Little League and the Little League World Series Championship doesn't mean anything to you, either. If that is so, then we do not need to waste any more time, especially that of our fans, friends and relatives, who are really pulling for us. They are spending a lot of their time and their hard-earned money to see us through to the end.

Coach paused and his voice became slightly emotional. He said, "If you boys want to win this thing, if you want to experience something you will never, ever forget, then we have to come together as one. We have to forget about who we are and focus on what we want to be. We have to be willing to help each other any way we can to get to that ball field in Williamsport and it has to start right here, right now. You think long and hard about what you want and I will see you boys on the bus tomorrow. But remember one thing, there is no letter I in the word TEAM."

He turned and walked off into the shadows. The Cougar team sat on the grass, not one of them getting up. They just sat there, saying nothing. All of a sudden, Michael saw a cigar's glow in the shadows. A man had been standing there with a cigar in his mouth. Michael realized that the man was J. C. Miller, owner of Miller Mills. He was the richest man in town and he had been listening to coach's talk.

Michael stood up. He had to say something as captain of the team, but there was nothing left to say. Coach Anderson had said it all. _Or had he?_

"Okay," Michael muttered, "the team meeting is over. We'll meet at the bus station tomorrow afternoon for the ride down to Marshall." Then Michael did something he had never done before. He stuck his hand out, palms down, and shouted with glistening eyes, "I'm in. Who's with me?"

Suddenly, as if a lightening bolt had hit the ground, the Cougar players all jumped up at once as one unit, trying to be the first to grab Michael's hand. They formed a team huddle in doing so, jumping up and down. Then Carlos Rodriguez shouted out, "Let's go get 'em, boys, let's go get 'em." The rest of the Cougars replied screaming the words slowly and in rhythm,

"Get it done, get it done, get it done..."

They all shook hands and slapped each other on the back, and then the conversation turned to beating Marshall. Laughing and yelling, some with eyes glistening, the Cougars acted as if they were ready to play right now.

Michael walked home with Willie Brown and neither of them said anything until they were near Michael's door, and then Willie said slowly,

"You know something, Michael?"

"What is it?" Michael responded.

"That Coach Anderson," Willie murmured. "He's a great man, Michael."

"I know." Michael nodded. He had known that for quite some time.

Mr. Smith was sitting up in the shadows on the porch, the newspaper on the floor next to his chair, when Michael walked up the porch steps. Michael heard the chair squeak a little and then his father said,

"How did it go, Michael?"

Michael went over and sat down on the porch ledge, "I guess it's was all right," he muttered.

"You've been worried the past few days," his Dad said quietly. "Get it off your mind, Michael. Is it the team again?"

Michael nodded and told his Dad about the fight between Josh Miller and Carlos Rodriguez and of coach not getting the promotion at work. However, when his talk turned to the team speech from coach, Michael's face lit up and his Dad saw it.

"Things are never as bad as they seem, son," his Dad told him. "You will see. You would never think a small baseball team of boys could become so complicated, but I suppose it is the same with boys just as it is with grown men. Your teammates have had their troubles, Michael, but I simply see it as a team with growing pains. I believe you're going to work through these problems, your team is going to continue to grow, and I really believe better things are ahead for you and that Cougar team of yours."

"Do you?" Michael asked with wide, excited eyes.

"I think it'll all work out before you know it," his Dad assured him. "Just keep your chin up. Do not let anything discourage you. Always remember that if you want to see a rainbow, you must have a little rain."

"Okay," Michael grinned. "I feel better already, Dad."

"That's my boy," his Dad said softly.

### A NEW TEAM

Waiting at the bus station the next afternoon, his bag in his hand, Michael learned from Cris Martinez that Coach Anderson had received a promotion at the mill.

"It's a better job than the one he was supposed to get," Cris bragged. "You think Josh spoke to his father?"

"I don't know," Michael confessed. He definitely knew Mr. Miller had overheard coach's talk to his team. Maybe Josh's Dad had re-considered what he had done and decided to provide coach with an even better opportunity. Regardless, Michael felt very good about it.

A silent, grim team took the field against Marshall that night. Josh pitched the greatest game of his life, with a no-hitter going into the sixth inning. Even the Marshall crowd cheered him on as he mowed down the batters.

The team gave him magnificent support the entire game, with no errors committed anywhere in the field. The batter, who finally made the Redbird's lone hit in the sixth to break up Josh's no-hitter, was thrown out at second by at least three feet when he tried to steal the base.

Josh ended up with a one hit shut out, and the Cougars beat the Marshall Redbirds by a score of 5 to 0. Jake and Matthew each hit home runs.

The Cougars returned to Springdale with two victories in the district playoffs and now only four teams remained out of the sixteen original competitors.

On the way home, Willie Brown said to Michael, "We're still in there, Michael. We still have a chance."

Michael nodded. They had a chance, but their prospects of reaching the finals seemed as far away as that distant star which had shined above Coach Anderson's head when he gave his team speech.

However, Michael had noticed a difference in the players. Matthew no longer looked at Ethan with open contempt. They were not friendly, but there was a difference. Jake had not bragged of his home run on the way back to Springdale that night. Instead, Jake talked up Josh's magnificent pitching.

Carlos said slowly, "He pitched great baseball. I've never seen him pitch a better game."

There was a difference, but it had not unified as coach wanted. The spirit was not there, though it was a lot better than it had been. Michael could only hope that a team with one of the finest boy pitchers in the country and some truly fine hitters might make it, even if it lacked the team spirit or unity Coach Anderson said they needed.

Four nights later, playing a tournament game on their own home field, they whipped a very good Springville team by a 4 to 2 score. Josh again came through with a fine performance.

This time Michael and Ethan led the attack, each with two hits. It was Ethan's double in the sixth with two runners on that broke the game wide open, delivering the Cougars the win.

Matthew had been on base when Ethan came through with that clutch hit and Michael saw the expression on the redhead's face as he crossed home plate with the final run. Davis had always questioned Ethan's nerve, but Ethan had proved with that ringing base hit that he could stand up with the best of them in the pinch.

They were in the finals of the district tournament now, with Springdale wild about its Little League team. The local paper was giving their games front-page coverage and the television sports news coverage was very positive. Bigger crowds were showing up, many from distant towns and cities to watch these finals.

The district final between Springdale and Vulcan City, played on Vulcan City's field, drew double the crowd they had usually been getting. Coach Anderson, wishing to give the over-worked Josh Miller a rest, started Willie Brown on the mound, with Josh in the bullpen. Willie surprised everyone by pitching a gem for five innings. In the sixth inning, Josh came in to relieve him with the score 3 to 1 for the Cougars, two runs having come in on Tyrone Johnson's tremendous home run over the center field fence in the fourth.

Josh put the Vulcan City rally on ice and the Cougars found themselves district champions, eligible to play in the sectional tournament. There were only eight section winners and that meant the Cougars only had to win three more games to move into that coveted circle of teams that went to the regional tournament for the final play offs before Williamsport.

A joy-crazed Cougar team returned to Springdale after the Vulcan City win. All the way back on the bus that night the boys were shouting, cheering.

"You know what this means?" Andy Wilson whooped. "We'll be traveling on trains and planes now, playing in distant cities...."

"Until we're eliminated," Jake pointed out. "It may be after the first game."

"Oh, no, we're not being eliminated," Andy howled. "We're doing the eliminating, we're going to Williamsport."

Michael sat up in the front of the bus with Coach Anderson. Going to Williamsport still did not seem possible to him. They had come through as district champions, now scheduled to play for the sectional championship. The Little League organization divided the United States into eight large territories covering several states, also known as regions. A Little League team, therefore, had to win it's district, it's sectional, and then it's regional championship to earn the right to go to Williamsport for the Little League World Series Championship Tournament.

Coach was saying, "Mr. Miller gave me permission to take off all the time I needed for these play-off games. The parents of all the boys have agreed to let them travel, so we are all set to go."

"You think we'll go all the way?" Michael asked him.

Coach smiled. "We have a great pitcher in Josh Miller," he said, "and a very good team. We should go pretty far."

The next two weeks were nightmares for Michael. He could not even remember what he ate. He moved around the house in a dazed fog when the Cougars were not playing or traveling to play other sectional winners.

They edged out a sparkling Southern Hills team in the sixth inning when Daniel Garcia stole home with the score tied. Then they won a crazy game by an 11 to 10 score, with Willie Brown run off the mound early and Josh Miller coming in to hold off the enemy until the final out. It was a very offensive game on both sides and the game came down to who had the last bat. Fortunately, it was the Cougars, but oh, how close it was.

The sectional championship came around and it was another exciting ballgame. Josh pitched, allowed two hits and the Cougars won by a 1 to 0 score. Carlos tripled in the sixth with Matthew Davis on first and that represented the only run of the game. Now, just three more wins for a trip to Williamsport.

"This is a ball team," Coach Anderson said in a television interview with pride after the close sectional championship win. "When we need hits we get them; when we need pitching, we get that too. You can't whip a club like that."

They seemed to be unbeatable too. They went on to win the first game in the regional play off, rather easily for a change, by a score of 6 to 2.

Willie Brown said to Michael after that win, "Do you realize we're only two games away from the Little League World Series in Williamsport?"

"Keep your fingers crossed," Michael laughed nervously.

It was true, though. If they beat two more teams, they would go to Williamsport with seven other regional winners from the United States and the eight international winners from across the globe to play in the Little League World Series. It was unbelievable, but it was true.

Michael could feel the tension as they prepared for the next ball game. They were all feeling it now and it heightened from the excitement in town. More and more buses were traveling with the team when it left for out-of-town games; bigger crowds came to watch the home games and they were so enthusiastic, making lots of noise.

They had another team picture in the paper and all of the games televised. Each player on the team received a new pair of baseball shoes with the molded cleat design from Mr. Miller. Daniel Garcia claimed the new shoes were going to make him run much faster. Mr. Miller also sent down a dozen new bats for them. He offered to send a trainer to accompany the team, to keep them conditioned, and coach laughingly had to refuse. Even Dusty Taylor, the former big leaguer, had called coach to let coach know he would help any way he could if needed.

They nearly lost the next game, which would have broken the bubble and eliminated them from further play. It was another tight game and they were leading by a 2 to 1 score going into the last half of the sixth inning. Josh disposed of the first two batters and with the bases empty and two away, the big Springdale contingent that had accompanied the team, started to make some noise.

An enemy batter, however, suddenly lined a triple to deep left field, and the tying run was on third base. Coach Anderson called for time and walked out to the mound to talk with Josh.

Josh threw one pitch to the next batter and he slapped the ball into right field.

Michael turned to watch it go, his heart sinking into his new shoes. The hard hit ball sailed toward the fence with Jake Jones chasing it on his short stubby legs. Jake had his back toward the infield and it seemed to Michael that he was running as fast as Daniel Garcia, the fastest runner on the team.

The opposing team was shrieking in the dugout as the ball started falling towards the low fence; then Jake leaped, reaching up with one hand. The ball struck his glove, the brown glove closed around the white ball as Jake hit the fence, collapsing at the base of it with the ball still in the glove, and the game was over.

The Cougars carried Jake from the field that afternoon, grinning, bruised, the happiest boy in America. Jake yelled at Mr. Miller, "Thank you for the shoes." Mr. Miller leaned back laughing, pointing his cigar stub at Jake.

Winning their regional title a few days later was anti-climatic, a much easier victory than the first two games of the three they had to win for this play off title.

Coach Anderson started Willie Brown and Willie pitched steady, dependable ball, allowing three runs. The Cougar bats were sizzling hot, driving in eight runs to give them an 8 to 4 victory.

Andy Wilson said, as they were climbing into the bus still flushed with the victory and a little stunned at their success,

"We go to Williamsport for the Little League World Series next week. Can you believe that?"

They were hardly able to accept the fact. Next week in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, eight regional victors from the United States were going to meet in one bracket and eight International team victors in another bracket. This format would be different, unlike any other tournament they had played in. Each team would play a minimum of three games, with the winners of each double-elimination bracket playing for the Little League World Championship in a single elimination game. Only five victories separated the Cougars from the World championship. The sixteen finest Little League teams in the world were getting ready to play in Williamsport.

Michael rode home in a daze. They had nearly a week to get ready for the finals. Coach Anderson worked them each evening at their home field, stressing the fundamentals, practicing bunting, base stealing. Ethan and Michael worked for hours around second base, perfecting the double play. Coach constantly stressed to them of the importance with keeping runners off second base. They worked on several pick-off plays designed to catch runners off the bags, with Carlos or Matthew giving the signals. By the end of the week, they felt better than ever, positive, and ready to play.

Josh was well rested and scheduled to pitch the first game. They had drawn a team from the Midwest for the opener of the series and as usual, the Springdale buses rolled in filled with parents, relatives, and friends of the Cougars.

On the way to Williamsport, Michael had the sick feeling that their luck could not hold out. It seemed almost impossible that a team could go on winning against opposition like this, but still one team had to do it, this one team eventually emerging from the tournament, champions of the Little League World Series.

He sat with Coach Anderson part of the way on the bus and asked the Cougar coach, "You really think we have a chance, Coach? There will be fifteen other teams down in Williamsport, the best in this country and the world."

Coach shrugged. "They're as much worried about us as we are about them," he smiled. "Remember, we are regional champions too, and we had to fight just as hard to get here."

He added, "They put their pants on the very same way we do, one leg at a time. However, every team needs a certain amount of good luck or good breaks, whatever you want to call it, to reach the top and win this championship. I do not think we have used up our bank of luck or breaks yet."

The next day, as Michael walked out on the beautiful Little League World Series diamond with the other Cougar players, the crowd giving them all a big hand, he hoped that luck would remain with them. It was two hundred and twenty-five feet from home plate to the fences, yet it looked so much bigger. The park could hold 45,000 fans. This was unbelievable and so surreal. They'd drawn the regional champions from California in this opening game, the first pairing of the eight U. S. teams, and as Michael watched the California boys working out on the field his hopes sank a little. They looked a lot bigger and moved effortlessly.

"The bigger they come," Jake said succinctly, "the harder they fall." Both teams had their batting and fielding practice, and then the Springdale Cougars took the field with the Las Colinas Warhawks at bat. Josh Miller picked up the new ball, rubbed it a little, and began his warm up pitches.

The first Warhawk batter stepped up to the plate and the crowd roared. Josh threw and the Warhawk slashed a single to left field. Michael moved over to second to take the throw in and he saw the look on Ethan's face.

" _They're too big,"_ Ethan was thinking. _"They're too good."_

"Let's go," Michael snapped. "Let's get two."

Josh kept the ball away from the second batter as he tried to bunt and the batter looped a foul into the air, which Carlos caught.

The next Warhawk batter hit a rattling ground ball down to short that Ethan fielded and flipped to Michael covering second. Michael's snap throw to first nailed the runner for a double play and they trotted in to the bench, the crowd giving them a big hand.

"Just like any other game," Coach Anderson grinned as they came into the dugout. "Nine players are on each side. Each team gets three outs each inning."

The Warhawk pitcher was another tall boy, a right-hander with curly blond hair, and a great fastball. Like Jimmy Ray Bell, he consistently clocked pitches at 70 miles per hour, and from 46 feet away, it was the equivalent of a big league pitcher throwing 100 miles per hour. He mowed down the Cougar batters for three innings until Carlos Rodriguez tagged him for a double in the fourth. Carlos advanced to third on Andy Wilson's infield out. Coach Anderson then signaled for the squeeze play with Daniel Garcia, the team's best bunter, at the plate.

Carlos started in with the pitcher's first movement, barreling down the base path like a freight train. The Warhawk coach yelled in alarm as the pitcher threw the ball. Daniel calmly poked his bat at the ball, bunting it out toward first, and Carlos was in with the first run of the Series.

The Warhawks came back to tie it up in the fifth on two hits and an error by Ethan at short. Josh struck out two men in a row to end the inning and the crowd gave him a standing ovation as he walked off the field to the dugout. The fans saw that Josh had not wilted under fire and Michael saw the respect in Carlos's eyes after Josh struck out that second batter, bearing down with everything he had and then giving it a little extra.

"Let's get another run," Josh said quietly as he sat down in the dugout. "That's all they're getting off of me."

The Cougars did not get the run until the sixth and last inning of the ball game. With two outs, the bases empty and the crowd beginning to anticipate an extra inning game, Matthew blasted a ball over the left field fence and the Cougars had made the first jump in the tournament bracket.

The team mobbed the grinning redhead as he stepped on home plate. It was 2 to 1 for the Cougars.

Coach Anderson said in the dressing room, "That's one. There are only four un-defeated regional champions left after today in our bracket. After tomorrow there will only be two."

"Wonder who they'll be?" Daniel murmured.

"Who do you think?" Matthew growled. "The Cougars and somebody else, that's who."

They drew a team from the great state of Louisiana in the second pairing and Coach Anderson had to start Willie Brown on the mound. Willie had come a long way since the opening of the Little League season. He had gained confidence in himself and believed he could hold top-ranking Little League teams. Coach Anderson had worked with him faithfully all during the season to help him develop control and poise on the mound.

This game was over quickly. The Cougar bats exploded for seven first inning runs and Willie, with his comfortable lead, remained calm, stayed relaxed, and pitched a nice four-hit shutout. Michael could not believe it. He pinched himself to make sure this was not a dream. He felt the pinch. Three more games.

In their third pairing, they drew a team from Florida. The winner of this game would have to wait for the winner of the loser bracket to play again for a spot in the Little League World Series Championship game. Coach started Cris Martinez and for good reason. This line-up of Florida players had four left-handed hitters. It was a beautiful call as Cris worked with Carlos, inside and out, his fastball spot on and his big curve breaking across two planes. Jake Jones and Tyrone Johnson each had a home run and the Florida boys fell out of the winning bracket.

Now, the Cougars could take a little time off and they needed it, especially the pitching staff. In the Little League rulebook, a pitcher could only pitch 85 pitches per game and if a pitcher threw more than 66 pitches, he was required to rest four days. Studies had determined the pitch count and rest rules were reducing the risk of shoulder injury to Little League pitchers between ages eight to thirteen by fifty per cent. You certainly kept track of the pitch count because you did not want to risk injury or lose a game due to protest. Tyrone's mother had kept track faithfully, all season long, of the pitch counts for the Cougars. After all, a team could lose a game from a later protest if they did not adhere to the pitch count rule.

_Who would they play next_ was what Michael wondered when he turned off the light in his hotel room. He knew the two teams playing for the right to play the Cougars again were playing each other at that moment. Coach had imposed an early curfew and he did not want any of the players watching the game or even reading the newspapers. His reasoning for shutting them in was to keep them focused. Michael guessed coach was right again. After all, it was hard enough to focus without any added drama. "Which team will we draw," Michael said silently as he dozed off to sleep.

The next morning the Cougars heard during the team breakfast. They would be playing the Louisiana team again. Jake promptly snorted, "We will just have to show those boys how good we are once again." Of course, everyone understood because the Cougars had not lost a game yet, that this team from Louisiana, who called themselves the Tigers, would have to beat the Cougars two straight games. Carlos said loudly, so all could hear him in a disguised Louisiana Cajun accent,

"Wid our pitcha's en our hitta's, it just aaaaaain't gonna happen!"

Michael realized at that moment this team had become one unit. The players were completely relaxed, yet spirited. Matthew sat next to Ethan while Carlos sat between Josh and Jake. They all could not wait to play ball.

Coach chose to start Willie Brown on the mound again against the Tigers from Louisiana. Willie had beaten them once with a superbly pitched game. Could he do it again? In the first game, Willie received a healthy supply of runs. Would the Cougars be able to do that for him this game?

Willie was nervous at the start, walking the first two men to face him. Two hits followed and the Tigers went up 2 to 0. Coach Anderson called for time and went out to speak to Willie. Michael trotted in also, and they discussed the matter rather calmly.

Coach said, "It's up to you, Willie. If you think you can get them, go ahead."

Willie Brown looked at Michael nervously. Out in the bullpen Cris Martinez and Joseph Williams were warming up. Michael said quietly,

"Don't quit on us, Willie."

Willie bit his lips. "Okay," he murmured. "I'll get them, coach."

He continued to pitch, working himself out of the jam by giving up no more runs. A very grim and very determined Cougar squad came in to bat.

They got two runs immediately, Ethan and Michael singling and Tyrone driving them in with a long double. They added another run in the third inning, giving them a 3 to 2 lead, with Willie Brown working nicely after the bad start. In the fourth, Jake hit his second World Series home run and the Cougars had a comfortable 4 to 2 lead.

Willie held the Tigers through the fifth and into the sixth and final inning. The two-run lead really felt good now. However, when the sixth inning started, the Tigers came to life again. Two hits in a row put the tying runs on the bases.

Willie Brown got one man to pop up to Carlos, but the following batter rifled a single to left, scoring one runner, making the score 4 to 3. There was another conference on the mound, but Willie was determined now, anxious to fight on. On the Cougar bench, Josh was yelling to him to stay in.

Coach Anderson said, "Okay, Willie. You are the man. We are behind you. Let's get it done."

Willie's face was sullen and drawn as he toed the rubber to pitch to the next batter. With runners on first and third with only one out, Michael hoped and prayed for a double-play ball; but Willie struck out the next batter, making it two away.

The Cougar infield was talking it up, chattering, everybody behind the courageous right-hander as he prepared to face the last batter. The Louisiana Tigers team was on the dugout steps, calling for that big base hit which would tie up the ball game.

Willie walked the batter after getting a three-two count on him. Now, with bases filled and two down, a contagious excitement moved quickly through the park.

Michael had a look at Willie Brown's father in the seats behind the Cougar dugout. Mr. Brown looked nervous. However, Willie was not quitting. Gamely, he continued to fire the ball towards the plate, getting a strike on the batter, then another called strike on a beautiful curve ball. He had the batter in the hole with a 1-2 count. On his next pitch, the batter lifted a twisting ball toward short right field, along the foul line.

Michael started for it. Tyrone Johnson, playing first base, turned and sprinted after the ball. Jake tore in from his right field position, his chubby legs pumping like pistons, his baseball cap flying off his head.

The three players converged on the spinning fly ball that appeared to be falling fair just inside the first base line. Michael strained every muscle of his body, knowing the three runners on base had been running with contact and were sprinting around the bases for home with precious runs. Someone had to catch this ball.

He had a glimpse of Tyrone Johnson, covering lots of ground on his longs legs, and then Michael heard Tyrone yell loudly, "I got. I got it. IT'S MINE!"

Coach had taught them to yell loudly for each fly ball to prevent dangerous collisions on the field. Michael immediately pulled away and as he did so, he saw Jake still driving in, eyes glued on the ball in the air. Jake was not going to stop.

"Jake!" Michael screeched. "Nooooo!"

Jake did not hear him. Jake had not heard Tyrone Johnson's cry, either. There was a lot of noise in the park, everybody in the stands on their feet, screaming. Tyrone lunged desperately at the ball, clutching it in his first baseman's mitt, and then Jake hit him on a dead run.

The impact was sickening, two bodies colliding at full speed. Both boys twisted repeatedly on the turf, Tyrone clinging to the ball as if it were a diamond. He lay there on the turf, almost unconscious, head rolling from side to side.

Jake was moaning, rocking back and forth on his back, clutching his right leg. Tyrone had held the ball however, and the game was over, another win for the Cougars, but both players seemed to be badly hurt.

Michael crouched beside Tyrone Johnson first. His voice was choking as he spoke. He said,

"Tyrone, Tyrone! Are you all right?"

The crowd was quiet, very quiet as the players and coaches came running over, gathering 'round them. The Para-medics arrived and after a brief examination of both boys, recommended they go to the local hospital for a more thorough examination. Tyrone was shaken up and incoherent from the collision while Jake's right knee was hurting him so much that he could not walk on it.

Back at the hotel that evening where the team was staying, they waited dully for the news from the hospital. Coach Anderson had accompanied the two boys, along with their parents, and coach arrived just before dinner with the news.

"Fortunately, they are not badly hurt," the Cougar coach told the group of silent boys. "The doctors were afraid Tyrone might have a concussion at first, but he seems to be coming along fine." He will be okay after a few days rest. Jake should be walking as good as ever after a week or so. His knee is still swollen, but there is no cartilage damage. A bad sprain, that is all."

"That's great," Michael managed to smile. "I'm so glad they were not seriously hurt."

"Of course," coach said, "they won't be playing in the finals. Jake can't run and the physician refuses to let Tyrone play for some time."

Michael stared at the Cougar coach and then at the rest of the boys in the room. Here they were on the eve of the Little League World Series Championship game and the Cougar's were going to have to play without the services of two very important starters, their two home run hitters.

No one said anything for some time, each boy thinking his own thoughts; then little Daniel Garcia put it into words for them.

"I don't care about them not playing," Daniel murmured. "I'm just glad they weren't seriously hurt."

### SHOCK AND AWE

They drew the Nariko, Japan Thunder for the final game. The Nariko Thunder team was red-hot, having beaten their opponents by an average score of 14 to 2 to reach the championship game. They were reputed to be the heaviest hitting boys' team in the tournament, and after watching them take batting practice, Michael was convinced that it was so. The balls seemed to jump off their bats, with every batter in their line-up able to hit the ball hard for distance. They were a confident team, knowing now the Cougars had been badly hurt with the injuries to two of their star players, Jake Jones and Tyrone Johnson.

Coach Anderson had to make hurried substitutions, putting Cris Martinez on first base and Joseph Williams in the outfield. Josh Miller started on the mound.

Tyrone Johnson sat on the bench. He pleaded that he be able, at least, to put on his uniform and sit with the team during the game. Jake Jones also sat on the bench watching glumly and when he got up, he limped around painfully.

Coach Anderson had a conference with the players before they took the field. The Cougar coach said quietly,

"We have our work cut out for us this afternoon, no doubt about it. We have lost two of our best players and we are facing an outstanding team, one of the best Little League teams in the world. Many people are counting us out already, but I know this team. You do not quit. That is why we are here. You have come a long way and you do not know how proud of you I am. Those boys put their pants on the same way you did this morning, one leg at a time. Now, go out there and play Cougar ball!"

Josh walked out to the mound, picked up the ball and looked at Carlos.

"Let's go," Carlos growled.

The first Thunder batter stepped into the batter's box. He promptly lined a single to right field on the first pitch. The second batter doubled to left center, and the third bounced his hit off the center field fence, scoring both runners.

Coach Anderson waved his hands and came out to the mound, his face drawn. Josh seemed to be in a daze with the Thunder batters hitting him as if they owned him. He stood there with the ball in his hands, the Thunder players whooping it up in the dugout.

"How is it, Josh?" Coach asked.

"I don't know," Josh muttered. "I just can't seem to get anybody out."

"It's a bad start, that is all," coach told him consolingly. "You'll settle down. Just take deep breaths, relax."

Josh looked at Michael then at Matthew Davis, who had trotted in from third base. Matthew said tersely,

"Just keep firing that rock, Josh. We will get 'em."

Michael looked at Josh, "We always have."

"You're arm alright?" Coach asked him.

"Feels good," Josh nodded. He had no excuses. The Thunder players had just hit his best pitches. It was just one of those things about this game of baseball.

"A team gets like that once in a while," coach told him. "They'll hit everything you throw up and then, without telling you a thing, they'll stop hitting."

"I sure hope so," Josh murmured.

He was ready to pitch again and the next Thunder batter lifted a fly ball to right field. Joseph Williams, taking Jake's place, danced around underneath it, looking very nervous, and lost the ball. Another run scored while the batter went to second.

Michael walked the ball to Josh and his face was gray now. This was the biggest game of their lives, and they looked as if they were falling apart. In this game, they needed to be playing their best.

The Little League World Series Championship jitters were taking possession of them. After all these long weeks of tournament play, each game harder than the previous one, they were nervous.

Ethan let a ground ball go through his legs for another error and the fourth Thunder run crossed the plate, still no outs. Michael saw Coach Anderson in the dugout, his gaunt face very serious. Coach said, "We'll settle down, Josh. Do not let it get to you. This is just a bad start."

Michael knew deep down in his heart, in a six-inning ball game, you could not let a team get a big lead if you wanted to be in it to win it. Right now, the Nariko Thunder had a good lead, but this was baseball. Anything could happen.

The Cougars were not particularly looking for a bunt now and the next Thunder bunter laid a beauty down the third base line, catching Matthew Davis dozing.

The redhead lunged in very late, kicking the ball away and both runners were safe on first and second with no one out. The disappointed Springdale crowd stared in amazement. This was not the team, which had clawed its way through all the opposition, up through the district and sectional titles, then on to the regional, and through the Little League World Series tournament, to get here.

Even Michael started to feel it now. A kind of panic swept through him, something he had not ever felt before in a game. He had been nervous at times, butterflies some would call it, but this was different. This was fear. He found himself hoping that a Thunder batter would not hit the ball in his direction.

They were playing back for the double play with Josh trying to keep the ball low so that the next Thunder batter would hit it into the dirt. Then, the batter did just that and hit it straight at Michael Smith.

Michael watched the ball bouncing and spinning towards him, a sharply hit ground ball, ideal for the double play. It was just a routine play for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ethan moving towards second to cover. The runner from first was streaking down towards second.

The ball bounced off the turf and onto the hard dirt of the infield. Michael put his hands down the way he had done a thousand times before. He remembered to keep his glove relaxed on the ground, the way coach had taught him when handling ground balls, but something happened. He did not know how, but the ball went through his legs. He felt it brush his glove lightly and then horrified, he whirled to watch it roll rapidly out toward right center field with Daniel Garcia sprinting in to recover it.

There was another big roar from the crowd as the fifth Thunder runner crossed the plate in this blowout. Coach Anderson called for time, his second of the inning.

He walked out onto the field, calling the whole infield to the mound. Michael walked in, sick to his stomach, wishing he were back in Springdale, wishing the Cougars had never come this far in the tournament. It would have been better to be eliminated in the first round of the district play off championship game than to come down to Williamsport and disgrace themselves as they were doing here and on television all over the world. This game was rapidly becoming a farce with no Thunder player out yet, five runs in, and two Thunder runners on base.

Coach Anderson looked at the infield when they came to him. Matthew Davis, Ethan Moore, Michael Smith, and the first base substitute for Tyrone Johnson, Cris Martinez.

"This is a bad one," coach said slowly. "This is a bad start. Right now is when the losers quit. You guys want to quit and go home or do you want to finish this ball game?"

No one said anything. Coach Anderson went on softly, "This team has never quit on me before, and I don't expect it to quit now. I do not care if they score a thousand runs on you this inning. Stay in there. Give it everything you've got." He looked at every player on the mound, his eyes to their eyes, with a light grin.

Josh blurted out, "You still want me to pitch, Coach?"

"I am going all the way with you this game Josh," coach told him. "Just keep throwing strikes and we will build some character."

Coach's eyes twinkled as he turned to go. Then he turned back around and said, "You boys remember the old story about the baseball game between two teams and a guy asks them the score? Well, one kid says 24 to 0 and the guy says to the other team, 'aren't you boys worried?' 'No,' another kid replied, 'we haven't come up to bat, yet.'"

Matthew Davis grinned a little, a slight, feeble grin. He turned and he said to Ethan,

"You miss another one Ethan; I will rub your face in the dirt. You hear me?"

Ethan managed to smile. There was no malice in the redhead's voice. These two boys had played side by side through many tough, grueling games. Davis had seen Ethan break up a ball game with a base hit to keep them in the tournament. Ethan had seen Davis's long home run clear the fence and win another game a few days before.

They went back to their positions and Josh prepared to pitch. He worked the next Thunder batter to a 3-2 count and then the batter lifted a fluke single behind third, the ball just clearing Matthew Davis's outstretched glove.

Andy Wilson came in fast to field the ball, holding the runner at third, but the bases were loaded, still no outs. Coach Anderson shook his head in exasperation. It seemed as if everything was against the Cougars this afternoon.

Josh took a deep breath, looked toward the bench, and then prepared to pitch. The Thunder batter was rangy, long, and lithe, with a quick bat. He was one of their power hitters.

Josh quickly got two strikes on him. Michael could see that he was beginning to settle down and he had hopes. Then the Thunder batter swung at the next pitch that was on the outside corner. A loud "tink" sound told everyone in the park that his long bat connected with it solidly. The ball flew out over Michael's head toward center field. It was hit very hard, a line drive.

Michael whirled to watch Daniel play the ball. Daniel was coming in very fast, running like a gazelle, but the ball was carrying further than Daniel realized. Michael stared at him, seeing Daniel's mistake. That ball was still rising and Daniel thought it was falling!

Andy yelled from left field frantically at his friend Daniel, who pulled up sharply and began scrambling back. However, Daniel had already run in too far, too fast, and the well-hit line drive sailed right over his head all the way to the fence. Sick at heart again, Michael raced toward the outfield to take the cut-off throw. Daniel was running like a deer to the ball as the Thunder players rounded the bases, the Thunder fans going crazy.

By the time Michael caught the cut-off throw and whirled to fire to home plate, he saw the Thunder batter stepping on it, having made an inside the park home run with the bases loaded.

The score was now 9 to 0 for the Thunder and there were no outs. Michael walked to the mound with the ball. He handed it to the stricken Josh and he mumbled,

"All right, Josh, This is not your fault."

Josh did not say anything. He took the ball from Michael's hand and Michael walked back to his position. The excitement had died down and the crowd noise was mild. Breathless, laughing Thunder players sat in their dugout, confident that the game was over.

Daniel Garcia stood on the turf deep in center field. He looked very small, very still. Michael did not know it, but Daniel was crying already, crying so badly that if a ball had been hit in his direction he could not even have seen it.

Carlos stood behind home plate, his mask under his arm. Carlos had done no wrong as of yet. Carlos was still the rock, his brown face grim, unbeaten, talking it up.

"Let's go," Carlos roared. "Let's go. Let's go!"

Michael considered that, but there was no place to go. They were done, beaten by a better team, an infinitely better team. They had at last broken to pieces, this Cougar team of diverse backgrounds, this team that should not have won the Springdale league title with all of their team troubles, jealousies, and anger issues. They should have cracked wide open a long time ago, but it had to happen now, before this huge crowd in the championship game and on live broadcast television for the world to see!

"Let's go," Carlos growled, unfazed, this time from out in front of the plate. "Everybody, let's go."

Coach Anderson sat on the bench as stunned as any of the rest of them. He had not taken Josh from the game because he knew that if this team could hit Josh, they would devastate Cris Martinez or Joseph Williams. The bases were now empty and it was like the beginning of a new game. Michael would have given his right arm if it could be that way again. That would be nice, to re-start the first inning and have the first Thunder batter come back up, with no outs, no hits, no errors, and no runs.

"Let's go," Carlos screeched. "Throw it to me, Josh. Throw it to me, you rich bum."

Josh looked at Carlos, at the boy from across the railroad track who was his battery mate. Carlos Rodriguez was not ridiculing him now. Carlos did not care about Josh's family money, his yacht, or summer home. Carlos only cared about one thing. He wanted Josh to pitch the ball, to bear down on these Thunder batters, because Carlos still had faith in him.

Josh got his first strikeout on three straight fastballs as his heater began to sing. Michael watched him on the mound, the rich boy who had always had everything he wanted, but he could not buy this ball game, not with a billion dollars. He looked soundly whipped already, but Josh was not quitting because the poor boy from across the track, his battery mate would not let him.

"Right here, moneybags," Carlos screamed. "Right here in this mitt. Make it pop."

Josh struck out the next batter with two beautifully breaking curve balls.

He got the third man on an easy roller to the mound and then he walked slowly to the dugout, sat down on the bench, put his head down and let the tears flow.

Michael came in slowly. He saw Tyrone crying. Ethan sat down, looked at Josh and at Tyrone, and he started to shake a little. Daniel came in from center field, face tear-stained. He broke down completely when he came into the dugout and Coach Anderson had to grab him and hold him.

"My fault," Daniel wailed. "It's my entire fault. I lost the game. I cannot believe it. I lost the game."

"Shut up," Andy Wilson quavered. "Shut up and take it like a man."

It was contagious and it was moving through the Cougar dugout. Michael felt the tears coming to his own eyes and he fought them back. The Cougars had been in an iron band of tension for weeks that had now drawn too tight and crushed them. They were like bundled springs, unable to control themselves. They felt beaten too. Michael could see that. Even if there were only one run scored by the Thunder, instead of nine, it would not matter. The Cougar's knew it. They just did not have it anymore.

### THE FAT LADY SINGS

Michael looked around the dugout. He wanted to say something, but he did not quite know what to say. He saw Carlos standing on the top step of the dugout with his kneepads and chest protector still on. Carlos held his mask under his arm and his cap was on backwards. His brown face streaked with sweat and dirt because it was a hot afternoon and he had been working hard behind the plate.

Carlos snarled, "Crybabies! What is a lousy nine runs? Can we not make nine runs? Come on, play ball."

Coach Anderson was standing up, also smiling, and looking confident. "That's the way to talk it up, Carlos. We are not done here yet. Everybody get a bat. Start hitting that ball."

Ethan stumbled out of the dugout and Michael followed him, bats in their hands. Jake called out to Michael,

"Hit one for me, Michael."

Michael did not hit for him. The rangy Thunder left-hander had a snapping curve ball and plenty of movement on his fastball. He struck out Ethan, Michael rolled out to third, and Matthew popped up to short.

The Thunder pitcher was very good and with a nine run cushioned lead he did not really have to be. Michael tried to hope something positive was going to happen, but it was very difficult to imagine. Nine runs were still nine runs no matter how mad Carlos Rodriguez got. He remembered that Tyrone and Jake were out of the line-up, with two weak hitters replacing them.

"We'll get 'em," Carlos snapped as he went out to start the second inning.

Josh seemed to have found his stride in the second inning and he set the Thunders down in one-two-three order. Not one of the Thunders got the ball out of the infield this time around. Michael came up with a nice play on a ground ball and the Springdale crowd had a little something to cheer. It was not much though, not with that big 9 followed by a big 0 on the scoreboard.

Carlos led off the bottom of the second, batting in the clean-up spot with Jake on the bench. He created a little excitement when he ripped a triple down the left field line. His headfirst slide into third beat the throw from the outfield.

"That's our start," Coach Anderson yelled. "Everybody hits now."

Andy scored Carlos with a sacrifice fly to center field and the Cougars were on the scoreboard with one run. Josh then hammered a double to right and scored on Ethan's single up the middle. He hit the dirt in another flying, headfirst dive at home plate, duplicating Carlos' slide into third.

Carlos helped Josh to his feet and pounded his back after Josh scored that run. Michael, waiting to bat, heard him say,

"You slide like a guy from my side of town, Josh. Nice going'."

"Si," Josh grinned. "Si, Carlos."

Michael sent Ethan to third on another single to right and the Springdale crowd started to make some noise. The Cougars were scratching away at that rangy left-hander and they were scoring runs.

Matthew hit a hard shot over second, moving Michael to third and scoring Ethan. It was now 9 to 3 for the Thunders who suddenly did not seem to be so sure of their selves. The big crowd watching the Little League World Series was getting a bit more interested too. Was the momentum shifting?

Daniel Garcia looked at Coach Anderson prior to stepping into the box. Coach hesitated one moment and then gave the sign to Daniel to bunt. Michael grasped the strategy immediately. The Thunder players were not looking for a sacrifice bunt from a team six runs down and Daniel was definitely a good bunter and very fast.

Daniel dropped the ball down the third base line, catching the Thunder third baseman asleep. Michael held at third and the bases were now loaded with one out.

The Springdale crowd started to whoop it up again. They were a small but noisy delegation at this big field and they were making themselves heard. The weak part of the Cougar batting order was coming up, Cris Martinez and Joseph Williams. Cris almost upset the applecart by sending a line drive straight at the third baseman, which, if it had gotten by him, would have gone for two bases. He was out, however, and Joseph Williams stepped into the batter's box.

On his very first pitch to Williams, the Thunder left-hander grazed Joseph on the thigh. Michael walked home for the fourth run of the inning. The bases were still loaded, but the Cougars also had two outs.

It brought Carlos up and the Cougars needed some more runs badly. The entire Cougar team was out on the dugout steps offering encouragement, as he stood there at the plate, very quiet, hardly moving his bat, eyeing the opposing pitcher.

Carlos hit another hard liner, which the center fielder fielded on one bounce. Matthew scored easily but Daniel held at third. The score was 9 to 5 and the Cougars were now back in the ball game. The Thunder coach came out and relieved the Thunder left-hander. A short, stocky right-hander came in to take his place.

They were going crazy in the Cougar dugout. Ethan was up, with Michael on deck. Josh was yelling happily at Carlos on first base. Matthew was whooping, "Come on, Ethan! Come on, Ethan."

Michael, in the on-deck circle, turned his head to look at Matthew. He remembered the days when Matthew looked upon Ethan with contempt, and Carlos disliked Josh. Here in this final game of the Series, beaten and battered by this great Thunder team in the first inning, they were finding their selves. The team Coach Anderson had always wanted he now had, finally.

The umpire allowed the new pitcher to take his warm-up pitches, and signaled Ethan to the plate. The shortstop watched one pitch for a called strike and then swung at the second, slicing it out toward left field, another line drive and apparent base hit.

The Cougar runners were racing around the bases when the Thunder left fielder took a flying dive toward the ball, spearing it inches off the turf for the third and final out of the inning.

Ethan looked as if he were going to cry again, when he trotted out to his position, but Matthew Davis called over to him encouragingly, "You couldn't come any closer than that, Ethan. Shake it off"

Josh retired the Thunder batters in order, two more strikeouts, and a slow roller out to Ethan. The Thunder right-hander followed suit with the Cougars, with one strikeout and two infield outs.

Again, Josh took the mound and sent three Thunder batters back to the dugout with three straight strikeouts. Michael realized that Josh had pitched no hit-ball for four innings after the nine runs scored. Those heavy Thunder bats had been completely silent. They were not even getting a loud foul off Josh and his pitch count was excellent.

At the end of the inning when Josh came in, Carlos waited for him on the foul line and they walked to the dugout together, Carlos grinning with one hand on Josh's shoulder.

"He's good," Carlos screeched in the dugout. "This guy is great. Have you ever seen him pitch like that? He is throwing gas."

Michael led off the bottom of the fourth. His mother and father were watching from the stands and he was using the bat his father had helped him purchase at the start of the season. It was a good bat and his father was yelling, wanting him to do something with it. He did by slashing a single over first on the very first pitch and the Cougars had new life.

They needed only four runs to tie it up now and those four runs did not look so big anymore. They were proving this afternoon that they could play when down, that they would not stop fighting until the fat lady sings. Now, the Thunder players worried and fought the Series jitters.

Matthew Davis dropped another single into right field and the frantic Thunder coach immediately yanked his right-hander and brought in another left-hander to stop these persistent Cougar bats.

With Rodriguez, Wilson, and Garcia in order now, Michael was positive they were going to do something no matter who pitched for the Thunder. Rodriguez was up waiting, swinging two bats, looking out at the new pitcher warming up, looking at the two runners on the bases. Rodriguez had started all of this off and Michael just knew Carlos was not going to stop now.

Jake boomed from the bench, "Come on, Carlos! Come on!"

Carlos sent a torrid line drive between the right and center fielders. Michael was off with the crack of the bat, scoring easily, with Matthew Davis pounding the plate behind him. Carlos pulled up at second with a double and the score was 9 to 7 for the Thunder.

The Springdale crowd was acting crazy when Andy Wilson came up with no outs and a man on second. Andy hit a long fly ball to center field and the Thunder center fielder pulled it in for the first out, with Carlos remaining on second.

Daniel faked another bunt and then looped a single to left field. Carlos made a perfect turn at third base and pounded down the base path towards home. Again, with the Springdale players howling, Carlos went into the plate with another flying, headfirst slide, but this time he was a fraction of a second too late. The Thunder outfielder had made a beautiful throw to the plate and the catcher was able to tag Carlos' shoulder as he came in. The umpire waved him out.

Daniel skipped down to second on the throw and it was two away with Cris Martinez batting, the score still 9 to 7 for the Thunders.

They begged Cris to come through with a hit and Cris almost made it. His line shot down the right field line landed foul by about six inches. It would surely have been a double if it had stayed in.

On the next pitch, Cris made the third out on a ground ball to second and the side was retired. The Thunder came off the field to start the fifth inning. Michael trotted out to second base, wondering if they would make it. They had come so far, but two big runs separated them from the Thunder lead. He knew with only two innings remaining those runs could be very hard to get. After all, this was baseball.

Josh was really pitching though, throwing his beautiful curve ball while mixing it up with fastballs and change-ups the way Coach Anderson had taught him to and the Thunder batters could not touch him. Josh was masterfully manipulating their timing. Again, they went down in order, a strikeout, and an easy fly to Daniel, and then a slow roller to Michael. Josh had set down fifteen straight batters without a hit, without even one Thunder batter reaching first base.

The crowd seemed to realize it too and they gave him an ovation as he walked off the field towards the dugout. They knew what it had taken out of Josh for him to settle down like that after a team had scored nine runs in one inning.

Michael noticed that Carlos sat with Josh on the bench now, discussing the Thunder batters between innings. They were real battery mates in every sense of the word. It was no longer Josh Miller from Nob Hill and Carlos Rodriguez from the apartment complex on the other side of the track. They were Miller and Rodriguez, the battery for the Springdale Cougars.

"Two runs," Coach Anderson said. "We need two more, gang. Let's put it on ice now."

Joseph Williams went down with an infield fly and it was one away with Josh coming up to bat. The big Series crowd gave Josh a big round of applause again, and he reddened a little as he walked to the plate to bat.

Ethan was on deck, with Michael following him. Since the early innings of the game, all of the Cougars had been swinging a good bat.

Josh started the ball rolling again. The Cougar pitcher ripped a line drive single out to center field. The Cougar players started to yell as Ethan came up to the plate, and Ethan responded with another single to left field, sending Josh to second.

Knowing the Cougars needed another hit, Michael came up to the plate resolved to do just that. The new Thunder left-hander had a nice curve ball and he broke the first pitch right over the plate. Michael waited for another, looking for a pitch in his zone, one he could really pop. With a 1-1 count, he got it and hit the pitch right back up the middle for another single. This was the third single in a row for the Cougars. Josh did not try to score on the hit because the center fielder fielded it quickly and he had great throwing arm, a cannon.

The bases were loaded now and the always-tough Matthew Davis in the batters box with Rodriguez on deck. There was a long conference between the Thunder coach and the players out on the mound. Davis just stood there to one side of the plate, watching them, not smiling.

Michael watched him from first base. He saw Carlos talking to him, and he remembered the days when Carlos and Matthew had punched one another at the ball field. Those days were behind them now.

They were going to leave the left-hander in the game and Michael suspected it was because the Nariko Thunder did not have any other good pitchers, the Cougars having pummeled every one of them.

Matthew Davis stepped up to the plate, waved his bat at the Thunder pitcher, and waited for the delivery. The Thunder infield was playing back for the double play at second with one away.

The big series crowd was literally bubbling over with excitement. The fathers of the Cougar players were all hoarse from shouting. J. C. Miller sat with Luis Rodriguez and Mr. Wilson, the electrician. They were all leaning forward, sweating it out. Matthew Davis's dad was a few seats away, yelling at his son, and shaking his fist.

The redhead appeared a lot calmer than his father did. He stood there at the plate, his bat on his shoulder, waiting for the pitch. The Thunder left-hander wound up and delivered him a curve on the outside corner. Matthew fouled off the second pitch, putting him in a hole with the count now 0-2, no balls and two strikes.

The redhead remained calm. With confident coolness, he watched the Thunder pitcher while taking a ball and then another ball. On the 2-2 pitch, he swung at a curve and connected with it solidly, driving it down the third base line.

The Thunder third baseman lunged at it and the ball skipped off his glove and rolled down the line towards the left field corner. Josh tore in from third with one run and Ethan streaked down the path, crossing over home plate in a blur with the tying run.

The stadium went wild. Pandemonium broke out in the Springdale dugout. Everybody was standing up and screaming. Matthew Davis stood on first base, grinning. Jake Jones, bad leg and in pain, did a war dance in front of the Cougar dugout.

Coach Anderson just stood there; scarcely able to believe they had tied up the game after being nine runs down. Even the umpires out on the field were shaking their heads in amazement and admiration.

This time the Thunder coach removed the left-hander from the game and another Thunder pitcher took over, a right-hander. It was now one away with runners on first and second, and Carlos batting, a tough batter for any new pitcher to face. Carlos was on fire and he was not stopping, not with victory in their grasp.

The excitement died down a little as the Thunder pitcher took his warm-up pitches and then they were ready to go. Michael waited on second. He watched Carlos adjust his batting helmet and take his familiar, widespread stance at the plate.

The Thunder pitcher pitched the ball and Carlos drove another line drive out to right field. Michael took off with the crack of the bat, knowing this might be the winning run of the ball game. As he streaked toward third, he saw his third base coach waving him on, and he drove his left foot off the inside corner of the bag, legging it for home.

He saw the faces of the Cougar players as they tumbled out of the dugout, screaming. He kept running. The Thunder catcher was waiting for the throw-in, very tense, glove raised. It was going to be close, very close.

Ten feet from the plate, Michael stretched out into a long, headfirst slide. He went in on his stomach, reaching for the plate with his hands, scraping past the Thunder catcher. When his fingers finally contacted the smooth rubber surface of the plate, he felt the ball being jammed into the middle of his back.

He heard the howl of joy then, from the Cougar dugout, and he looked up to see the umpire crouching above him, both hands down, palms flattened toward the ground. "Safe," the umpire screamed. The score was 10 to 9, this time for the Cougars.

The Cougar players came out to pick him up and carry him off the field and into the dugout, sweaty, dusty, breathless, but grinning ear to ear. A glum Thunder team waited on the field for the game to continue. There were runners on second and third with only one out.

They intentionally walked Andy Wilson, filling the bases, hoping for the double play, and they succeeded with Garcia hitting a bouncer back to the mound. The pitcher threw the ball back to home and the catcher whipped it to first just ahead of the fast Garcia. The inning was over, but the Cougars led by one run, and Josh had not given up a hit or a walk since the bad first inning. It was the sixth and last inning now, with only three outs standing between the Cougars and the world championship.

They raced out onto the field, confident of victory now. They were a team you could not beat, you would not be beat, and they had the greatest Little League pitcher in the world on the mound.

Josh was very calm, very relaxed, pitching carefully, steadily.

He got the first Thunder batter on a roller down to Davis. He worked slowly on the next man, working him to a full count of 3-2, and then struck him out with a nasty curve.

The entire crowd was standing up now with two out in this last inning of the game, no runners on the bases, the game practically over. Coach Anderson kept calling from the dugout,

"Take it easy gang; very easy out there."

He was as nervous as the players were. Coach had not sat down since the first inning.

Josh pitched to the Thunder catcher, getting two strikes on him. Michael stood at second, his hands sweating, head whirling, waiting. One more strike, one more out, and they were in.

Josh was not going to give that next batter anything to drive. He worked very slowly. The batter fouled off two pitches. He raised the count to 3-2 and then fouled off two more pitches, with everybody on the field and in the stands on edge.

The next pitch was inside and Josh thought it was good, as did Michael, who opened his mouth to yell. However, the umpire called ball, sending the batter down to first base, the first Thunder runner to reach a base since the first inning.

Josh did not like it but he was not going to argue with an umpire. Michael could see that Coach Anderson did not like it either. He thought that last pitch was a strike too, but Coach did not come out of the dugout.

They were not arguing with umpires this afternoon, knowing the man behind the plate was calling them just as he saw them, but they still thought the ball had been a strike.

The tying run was on first and the game was not over. Michael felt the tension coming back even now, with two out and Josh pitching beautifully.

The Thunders took their pitcher out of the game and put in a pinch hitter to bat for him. The pinch hitter rubbed dirt on his bat and stepped up to the plate very determined.

He swung at the first pitch, hitting it out towards right field where Joseph Williams was playing in Jake's place. When Michael saw the ball sailing out that way, he suddenly became horribly frightened. The well-hit ball was flying quickly towards the fence.

Joseph backed up for it. He backed all the way to the fence. He was nervous, moving from one side to the other. He was right back against the low fence now, reaching up for the ball.

Then it happened, and it was a baseball freak play if Michael had ever seen one. He could not believe his eyes. The ball struck the palm of Joseph's glove, bounced out and over the fence.

For a very long moment, there was absolutely no sound on the field. Then, the big Thunder crowd came alive. A boy in the Thunder dugout was screaming insanely. The Thunder batter was rounding first, going towards second, and Michael watched him pull up, slowing into his home run trot for he realized he had just hit one. This pinch hitter had just given the Thunder the lead again at 11 to 10.

It did not make sense and it was not fair. It was a trick played on the Cougars somehow by an unknown evil baseball god. The ball had bounced out of the glove and then had passed over the fence without touching the ground; therefore, it was a home run.

Joseph Williams stood there, staring toward home plate, shoulders drooping, his glove at his side as the two runners crossed the plate to score. The Springdale crowd watched, stupefied, unable to accept the fact that this amazing come from behind victory had just been taken from their hands.

Josh went on pitching, still very cool, unperturbed. He struck out the final Thunder batter and the Cougars ran in for the last bat of the sixth and final inning.

Josh waited at the top of the dugout for Joseph to come in and Joseph looked sick as he crossed the infield from right field. He was crying too, the way Daniel Garcia had cried, and his hands were twitching. Josh gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder as Daniel entered the dugout to show him that there were no hard feelings because of his disastrous and freaky error.

Joseph sat down with his face in his hands. He was shaking convulsively and Coach Anderson sat down next to him, talking to him calmly.

Coach called every one around and while looking at each of them with a big grin he said, "In case any of you ever wondered, this is why we play six innings. Isn't this the most exciting game you have ever played in? Huh? Now, it is our turn to bat and I believe in you, so let's 'get 'ur done."

Cris Martinez was up to hit and Joseph was to bat second, but everyone could see he was in no condition to do that. He was not himself and it would be a while before he calmed down.

The Cougars were one run behind with the bottom of their lineup coming to bat. Could they pull off another miracle? It hardly seemed possible. That fluke home run had been a crushing blow, a knockdown, one that might not let them get back up. Was that their destiny? Their Coach did not think so. After all, this was baseball. You played it until the final out.

Martinez was determined, but he flied to left field for the first out. Michael was out on the dugout steps with the others and he turned to see what Coach Anderson would do about Joseph Williams. Then he saw the injured Jake Jones standing in front of Coach, talking rapidly. Jake had his favorite bat in his hands and it was apparent Jake wanted to bat for Joseph.

Remembering some of Jake's long home runs in the past, Michael felt his hopes rise a little. Jake could not run, but if he hit one over the fence, he would not have to. He could crawl around the bases to tie the score again.

Coach Anderson finally gave his consent to Jake to bat and the boy hobbled out of the dugout, walking painfully with a bad limp to home plate. The crowd gave him a standing ovation, appreciative of this effort and remembering how Jake had hit in other games.

The Cougars pleaded for a base hit. Josh was on deck behind Jake and then the top of the batting order would be up to bat again. If Jake could only get on base, they had a chance.

Michael watched the strong and solid Jake dig in at the plate. He thought for sure that Jake would be aiming for the fences now, anxious to tie this ball game up with a home run while gaining greater glory for his self.

However, Jake stayed very cool and very calm. He watched a strike go by and then he swung at the next pitch, meeting it solidly. He was not trying for a home run because he understood the importance of just getting on base for his team. The Cougars needed a base runner and they needed one now.

The ball arched over third and rolled to the left field fence. The crowd screamed again as Jake hobbled down to first base. This hit would have been a stand up double for anybody else, but Jake just could not make it that far.

Coach Anderson immediately sent Willie Brown in to run for Jake and Jake came back to the dugout, limping worse than ever, his face white. However, he had given them the new life that they needed.

Everybody pounded Jake's back as he came into the dugout. Coach Anderson said quietly,

"Good boy, Jake. I knew you could do it."

"We can't let you down, Coach," Jake said and Michael realized something right then. This team of boys was killing itself to win this world championship. Maybe they thought they were doing it for their town, for their parents, for themselves, but the real reason became apparent now. They were fighting here tooth and nail, for Coach Anderson, the minor leaguer, who'd never been too much as a ball player himself, for this gaunt, kind, homely man, who loved and understood his team of Little League baseball players. It was obvious this team loved and respected their coach too.

The Thunder pitcher was very nervous and he walked Josh Miller, putting runners on first and second with one away, with Ethan Moore coming up.

Again, the excitement gripped the Cougar players the way it had gripped them every inning before. They had the tying and winning runs on base with the top of the lineup coming up.

Ethan stood at home plate watching the pitcher. Michael was in the on deck circle, ready to bat next, gripping his bat, crouching, sweating. If Ethan went down it would be up to him to get the Cougars out of this jam.

Ethan did not go down. The shortstop hit a single out to left field and Willie Brown, running like the wind, came in to score the tying run. With no cut-off made on the throw to the plate, Josh sprinted to third.

It was Moore on first, Miller on third, with one away, and Michael at bat. The loud Springdale crowd could not make more noise. The game tied up again at 11 to 11, a crazy score in an unbelievable game.

Michael stood at the plate, his nerves calming down. It was impossible that they lose now. Nothing could take this victory from them. A team like the Cougars could not lose. They refused to. If the Thunder had scored another nine runs in the previous inning, he still would have thought that. The Cougars would not quit and they would never give up.

The Thunder pitcher finally pitched to Michael. He swung and smashed the ball hard, way out to center field. The Thunder center fielder went back for it and caught it, but he was in no position to throw Josh, who had tagged up at third, out at home. Josh Miller scored easily from third base with the winning run and the game was over. The Cougars had won and the place went wild!

Michael came back from first. The entire Cougar team was a heaping congregation around home plate. They were pounding Josh Miller's back. Carlos was climbing up on top of the heap. Even Jake was trying his best to get in on the celebration. Coach Anderson was behind them, watching, grinning.

In the seats behind the Cougar dugout, another demonstration was going on. Cougar fathers were yelling, shaking hands with each other. J. C. Miller was pumping Luke Rodriguez's hand. The mothers were crying with tears of joy. Reporters with microphones and news cameras appeared from all directions. Everyone wanted in on this moment.

Coach Anderson looked over the heads of the Cougar players, at Michael coming down to join the celebration. Michael launched into the maelstrom of yelling, joy-crazed players. They pounded his back; they tore off his cap and threw it into the air.

Michael saw Tyrone Johnson on the edge of the heap, waving, laughing, and grinning with his big smile, happy as any boy could be.

"Michael," Tyrone yelled. "Michael!"

Michael waved back at him, crossed over, and gave him a big hug. He looked across at Coach Anderson, over near the dugout, standing alone. Coach was watching him, smiling. Coach saw them all together now, Matthew Davis and Ethan Moore, Jake Jones and Daniel Garcia, Josh Miller and Carlos Rodriguez, all of them, every walk of life fused together here in this mass of crazed joy around home plate. They were heroes, to themselves, to us all, but most importantly, they were heroes to each other.

One thought was running through Coach David Anderson's mind and Michael saw it in his eyes. This was a good thing, it was a very good thing, and it was just the beginning.

THE END

### APPENDIX: Break In Your Glove or Mitt Correctly

How do you make a baseball glove or mitt more comfortable, thus more reliable? How do you make one last so you can save yourself lots of time and money? You and I both know that catching or fielding a baseball is hard enough. However, it is almost impossible with a stiff glove. Below are a few tips on how to take care of your glove or mitt. Please note that with proper care, your glove or mitt can last for a very long time. With proper care, your glove or mitt could become your best friend, because the longer it stays with you, the more reliable it becomes for those clutch situations. Just like you, your glove or mitt needs training and must stay in excellent physical condition to meet the physical demands of competitive baseball. So please, be responsible and read the following. You just never know, playing baseball could be your life calling.

1. Start with a can of mink oil. Other oils, lanolin, petroleum jelly, even WD 40 work. However, for most others, the tried and true oil for your baseball glove is mink oil. Put a few drops of mink oil on a sponge or clean rag. Do not soak the rag or sponge. Too much oil is not good when trying to break-in or condition your baseball glove or mitt. PLEASE REMEMBER leather is a "skin." Too much oil, too much sun, or too much moisture is not good for it. Moderation is the key.

2. Work your oiled sponge or rag inside and outside the glove or mitt entirely. Do not forget to work the laces. If you see any excessive amount of oil on the leather, remove it with a dry cloth or towel.

3. Now, take the glove or mitt and twist it, bend it, pound it with your fist in a real effort to make it flexible. Spend at least 10 minutes with this. C'mon, break a sweat!

4. Now, put a baseball in the pocket of your glove. Close the glove or mitt around the ball and tie it up with old belts or shoelaces. Keep the mitt wrapped overnight at room temperature. You can even sleep with it if you like. It is okay to show it some respect. Just remember that you CAN NOT leave your glove in extremely hot temperatures, because, just like a skin, it will dry out, even split in extreme cases.

5. Take a wooden mallet or use a small souvenir baseball bat for this next step. Unwrap the glove or mitt and remove the baseball. Place it on the hand that you do not throw with or your catching hand. Pound the inside of your mitt for about 10 minutes with the mallet or small bat. Use enough force or pressure to replicate a ball hitting your glove.

6. Place the baseball back in your glove and tie it up again. Make sure you wrap the glove tight enough so your baseball does not fall out. Let the glove or mitt sit alone or sleep with you overnight at room temperature. This is a good time to show some respect. After all, you just gave it a beating and it still wants to work for you.

7. The next morning, untie your glove and remove the baseball. Put the glove on your hand and throw the baseball into the glove for at least 10 minutes. Try to throw the ball and catch it in the pocket of the mitt.

8. Find a buddy and play catch. Try to catch the baseball at least 100 times while you are tossing it back and forth. I have even gone to batting cages to practice catching because I do not like chasing errant throws from some of my friends. The pitching machine can throw balls to you and you can adjust the speed while in the cage. However you do it, break a sweat!

9. Keep a baseball in your mitt anytime it is not in use. Prevent the palm of the glove or mitt from developing a wrinkle by wrapping it. Play catch frequently to increase your glove's ease of movement and flexibility. Keep your mink oil handy, just do not over do it.

As your glove or mitt ages, with the proper care, just like you it becomes better looking and more reliable. **IT WILL NOT EVER LET YOU DOWN!**

I really hope you enjoyed reading Little League Heroes.

Joe Jackson

DAMIME PUBLISHING COMPANY

damimepub@hotmail.com
