Extra Innings (4 page)

But the kid threw a changeup instead, and Ronde let it go by as it dropped into the dirt.

Lucky for him. He couldn't have hit it if it had been a strike, because he was all geared up for the fastball.

Ronde felt like he was about to jump out of his skin. He was so wound up that if the next pitch had been anywhere close, he would have leapt at it. But the ball was way outside, and Ronde took his base, blowing out all the tension when he got there.

Lenny Klein came up to the plate as the Eagles started chanting and cheering for a rally. Ronde saw this as his chance to impress the coach by using his speed. When Lenny worked the count to 3–0, Ronde took off for second on the next pitch.

Blood was pounding in his ears so loudly that he couldn't hear anything else. Nor did he look toward the plate to see what had happened on the pitch. As he approached second, he slid, just like Coach had shown them in practice.

But the ball was already in the second baseman's mitt, and he tagged Ronde out easily.

“What?” Ronde couldn't believe it. How had they managed to catch him stealing, with his speed?

Just as he sat back down on the bench, Lenny singled to left.
I would have got to third on that one,
Ronde realized. If only he had been more patient and given Lenny a chance to hit!

A quick glance at Coach Raines, who was shaking his head in frustration, showed Ronde that the coach was thinking the same thing.

They hadn't flashed him the
Steal
sign. He'd done it on his own. When the next two hitters struck out, the Eagles went down without scoring, and the score remained 2–0.

The Rockets did not score in the third. In the top of the fourth, Tiki started the inning by striking out for the
second time in the game. Ronde patted him on the back as his twin came back to the dugout, but Tiki shook him off. Ronde understood. Tiki was mad at himself for messing up, same as he was.

But that's when things started getting interesting. Michael Mason walked, and Cesar Ramirez singled. Tyquan Brown grounded out, but then John Benson came up and doubled both runners in to tie the score at 2–2!

Ronde came up with a chance to give the Eagles the lead—but he grounded weakly to first instead. Benson took third, and when Lenny and Chris both walked, it looked like the Eagles might break the game open. But Ian Lloyd grounded out to second, and the Eagles had to settle for two runs.

Oh well,
thought Ronde.
At least we're not behind anymore.

After Benson shut down the Rockets in the bottom of the fourth, Tiki led off the Eagle fifth by striking out again. Ronde could practically see the steam coming out of his twin's ears as he came back to the bench. Ronde knew better than to try and console Tiki when he was in this kind of mood. He turned back to watch the game, hoping that Tiki would put his frustration to good use, rather than letting it affect his play from here on out.

Michael Mason and Cesar Ramirez hit consecutive singles, and again, it looked like the Eagles were in business. John Benson walked, and the bases were loaded for Ronde.

He came to the plate, no longer thinking about how Tiki was doing, but only about himself. If he struck out, he would be totally humiliated! He tried to concentrate on just making contact . . . just making contact . . .

He made contact, all right. He hit the ball straight back to the pitcher—a soft line drive that turned into an inning-ending double play! Ronde felt like sinking into the ground, but instead, he fought back the urge, and grabbed his glove to head back onto the field. For a brief second, he and Tiki made eye contact, but each was too embarrassed to say a word to the other. They were stinking up the joint big-time, and they both knew it.

Come on!
Ronde urged himself.
Get over it. It's not like we're losing—we're still all tied up. We could still win this thing!

That was true—the game was tied, and it stayed that way till the bottom of the sixth. Then, as if in a bad dream, Ronde stood helpless in center field as the Rockets scored twice on a walk, followed by a big home run off Ian Lloyd, who had switched positions with John Benson after four innings and was pitching for the first time this year.

Ronde felt like he'd been dealt a crushing blow when that home run sailed over the fence, and he could see the rest of the team sag as well. Now it was 4–2, Rockets, and the Eagles were running out of at bats. The seventh inning was coming up, and in Junior High
baseball, seven innings was all you got.

Ronde shook his head and set his jaw.
Hey,
this game isn't over,
he told himself,
not by a long shot. We can still win it!

Michael Mason led off with a long fly to left that was caught on the warning track. Again every Eagle player felt his hopes deflate like a balloon. Cesar Ramirez tapped back to the mound, and the Eagles were down to their final out.

But they weren't done yet. Tyquan Brown doubled down the right field line, and John Benson singled him in with his second hit of the day, to narrow the score to 4–3.

Now, amazingly, it all came down to Ronde.

He felt unsteady on his legs as he went to the plate. Staring at the ground, he tried to focus and pull himself together. So far today he'd swung at three pitches and whiffed on all three. If he struck out again now, he felt like he'd never live it down.

“Ball!” Ronde blew out a breath of air. That pitch had sure looked like a strike to him. He'd meant to swing at it but hadn't been able to pull the trigger in time, so he'd just let it go.

“Ball two!” cried the ump after a fastball whizzed over Ronde's head.

Ronde took a strike, then swung at another and missed. The count was 2–2, and now he and the Eagles were down to their final strike.

The next pitch was in the dirt, and John Benson took off for second. He had the base stolen before the catcher even threw the ball.

“Yeah!” Ronde shouted. “Yeah, baby!” He got back into the box, more determined than ever to deliver the tying run.

The ball was way outside. Ronde started to swing but somehow managed to pull his wrists back and let it go for ball four. “Yesss!” he said under his breath, grateful that he hadn't followed through.

Now the Eagles had the winning runs on first and second. Ronde watched as Lenny Klein came to the plate and looked to the third base coach to deliver the sign.

Ronde saw it. The coach touched the bill of his cap, then his right ear. That meant,
Take a pitch. Don't swing.
Then the coach turned to John and Ronde and touched his nose, then his left shoulder.

Steal! This time Ronde would be running on Coach's orders, and he made up his mind that no one was going to pick him off again, now or ever!

As soon as the pitcher went into his motion, Ronde was off and running. He saw John ahead of him headed for third. Ronde slid, his hands flying up to protect his head from the throw.

“Safe!” cried the second base umpire.

“Safe!” said the ump at third.

Ronde sprang up quickly. Looking toward third base,
he saw to his surprise that John Benson was about to head for home!

Ronde realized that the ball must have gotten away from the fielders, who were running after it frantically. Ronde took off immediately for third, and got there easily—only to find John Benson scrambling back toward him!

What was going on? he wondered. Why hadn't John scored?

Panicking, Ronde froze as the third base coach yelled something at him. “Back! Back!” he was saying, gesturing for Ronde to get off the bag at third.

And now he understood. John Benson had changed his mind about scoring when he'd seen the throw come home, and he'd turned back midway! If John got back to third while Ronde was still there, one of them would be called out, and the game would be over!

Ronde dashed back toward second base, but it was way too late. As soon as the catcher saw Ronde break, he threw back to second, and Ronde was caught in a rundown. The third base coach sent Benson back toward home, but Ronde was tagged out before Benson crossed the plate.

The game was over. The Eagles had lost.

And it was all his fault!

Amid the usual “We'll get
'em next time” and “They got lucky” pronouncements, there was a deep sense of letdown among the Eagles. It was a silence behind their brave words, and Tiki could hear it echoing in his own brain. What made it worse was that it had been largely his fault.

Well, no, that wasn't quite true, and he knew it. Ronde had made his share of mistakes too. None of the Eagles had hit very well off the strong Rocket pitching staff, and their pitching hadn't been great either.

Still, Tiki couldn't help feeling he and Ronde had let the rest of the guys down. Glancing over at Ronde, who was sitting beside him, staring into the pocket of his mitt, Tiki knew his twin was thinking similar painful thoughts.

Tiki remembered that other bus ride the week before,
sitting across from Jason Rossini. “In track when you win, it's all you,” he'd said. “You don't have to share any of the credit. And if you lose? Well, at least it wasn't because someone else on your team messed up.”

Maybe Jason was right, Tiki thought sadly. Maybe he and Ronde should have gone out for track. As much as the twins had stuck up for team sports, there was obviously a downside, too, and he and Ronde were feeling it now.

Tiki tried to find the bright side, the silver lining. “Well,” he said out loud, “at least it was an away game. Our fans didn't have to see that mess with their own eyes.”

“I hear you,” Ronde agreed with a bitter laugh. “That was ugly.”

“How ugly was it?” Tiki asked, the corner of his mouth turned up in the beginning of a smile.

“As ugly as a turtle wearing lipstick,” Ronde said, starting to giggle.

“As ugly as moldy eggs on burnt toast!” Tiki replied.

“As a booger on a beauty queen!”

“As—”

And soon they were both laughing. The other kids couldn't help smiling as they tried to understand what was so funny. Pretty soon everyone was in on it, and the ride home was a game of How Ugly Was It?

As they all got off the bus in front of Hidden Valley
Junior High, waving good-bye as they headed for their rides, Tiki turned to Ronde and said, “Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“It's funny, but I think maybe we just took the first step to becoming a team—and I don't mean the game.”

• • •

Tiki stood at the plate, waggling his bat and waiting for the coach to throw him another one. He'd already belted the first pitch over the fence in left field and was seeing the ball like it was a big white grapefruit. The next pitch was low and in, but Tiki dropped the barrel of his bat and got there first. The sound of bat on ball was sweet and clean, and the ball soared into the sky, almost disappearing as he stared after it. It landed way, way over the fence, and everyone watching said, “Whoa!”

Parents sitting in the bleachers, kids doing baserunning drills, even people on the street walking by, all stopped what they were doing so they could maybe see another moon shot like the one they'd just witnessed.

After taking a couple pitches off the plate, Tiki whacked at a high fastball that had been right over the heart of the dish. He didn't miss it either. The ball took off like a rocket, a screaming line drive that made the center fielder freeze for an instant, before realizing it was going to be way over his head. He ran out of room at the fence, and the ball kept going. There was scattered
applause as Tiki took off his batting helmet and headed back to the bench.

“Wow!” Coach Raines said, clapping him on the back. “Looks like you found something at the plate, huh?”

“I guess so,” Tiki said modestly, even though inside he was bursting with pride and excitement. He couldn't wait for their next game!

It was a good thing that the Eagles' first game had been away from Hidden Valley, and from all the kids at school who had been his fans for the past three years. He hated to do badly in front of them, especially when most of them had never seen him play baseball before.

Tomorrow's contest against the Blue Ridge Bears, however, would be at Eagles Field. And after today's batting practice exhibition, word would surely get around fast. The stands were sure to be full for the team's home opener. Tiki could only hope he had half as much success tomorrow as he'd just had in batting practice.

• • •

For the game against Blue Ridge, Coach Raines had Tiki batting cleanup again. After all those home runs in batting practice, that came as no surprise to anyone. Ronde was batting ninth again—and was none too happy about it. Not that he had complained to anyone but Tiki—Ronde was too good a teammate to do that—but Tiki knew. He would have known even if Ronde hadn't said a word to him. Just by watching his twin, he could always tell what
he was feeling. It was the easiest thing in the world for either of them to step inside the shoes of the other. That's what being an identical twin was all about, wasn't it?

Tiki felt Ronde's pain, but he also knew the coach was making a reasonable decision. Ronde was a light hitter at best and was having trouble catching up with fastballs. Until he learned to speed up his swing, he would have to get on base with his speed. That all added up to hitting ninth, at least for now.

The game started well for Hidden Valley. The Bears' hitters went down in order in the first. In the bottom of the inning, the pitcher had trouble finding the plate, walking the first two batters and hitting Ian Lloyd to load the bases with Eagles, with nobody out!

Tiki could hardly have picked a better situation. Brimming with confidence, he stepped to the plate, then took a couple of vicious cuts at the air to loosen up. He could hear the cheers of the Eagles fans who were packed into the bleachers. The beat of the bass drum accented their chants as he stepped into the box and waggled the bat high over his head.