Extra Innings (8 page)

Tiki seemed like he was about to say something, but then he thought better of it. Nodding, he grabbed his glove and a ball and headed out to pitch the bottom of the tenth.

Ronde didn't have the best view from out in deep
center, but he could see that Tiki, who didn't know any trick pitches, at least had a decent fastball. He managed to strike out the Mountaineers' number nine hitter before issuing a walk to the leadoff man, who quickly stole second base.

The pressure was almost at boiling point now. Tiki walked the number two hitter, then fell behind 2–0 on the next guy. Two on, one out, and a very slim one-run lead . . .

Ronde could feel himself sweating from sheer nerves. He could only imagine how Tiki felt. He had only one pitch—the fastball—and he was just trying to get the ball over the plate so he didn't walk in a run!

It was no surprise when the hitter launched a screaming line drive in Ronde's direction. Ronde took off at a run, never taking his eyes off the ball. Luckily, he'd been playing deep, just in case. He reached the fence a second before the ball did. Planting one foot on the fence, he used the leverage to leap high in the air and grab the ball. The force of the line drive almost pulled him right over the fence, but he came down back on the field, with the ball still in his mitt. He turned and threw, but the runners were retreating anyway.

He'd saved the game! But there was still one out to get—the Mountaineers' cleanup hitter

The kid swung so hard at Tiki's first pitch that he nearly came out of his shoes. His second swing was even
harder—the bat flew out of his hands and nearly hit the third base coach!

Now, they needed just one more strike. “Come on, Tiki . . . ,” Ronde breathed. “Come on. Just . . . one . . . more . . .”

Ronde tried to visualize a fastball zipping past the bat and into the catcher's mitt. But Tiki had an even better plan. He acted like he was throwing his best fastball as hard as he could—but instead, he lofted a slow, lazy floater toward the plate.

The batter, who had started to swing at what he thought would be fastball, had to stop midswing. As he hesitated, the ball dropped in past him for a called strike three!

Ronde and the rest of the Eagles ran to the mound and mobbed Tiki. “I didn't know you had a trick pitch!” Ronde told him as they celebrated and their hard-won victory.

“Hey, bro,” Tiki said with a huge smile, “neither did I!”

The final score was Eagles 5, Mountaineers 4. They'd gotten their second straight weird, strange, and thrilling extra-inning victory, and were back to .500 at last!

Tiki and Ronde arrived for
practice, changed, and were ready to hit the field when Coach Raines called out from the door of his office, “Hey, Tiki, got a minute?”

Tiki and Ronde exchanged puzzled glances. Tiki said, “See you out there,” and turned back toward the office. Coach Raines closed the door behind him and said, “Sit down.”

Uh-oh,
thought Tiki. He sure hoped this wasn't going to be another chewing-out session. He racked his brains to try to think of anything he'd done wrong. Other than a couple shaky throws from second that had almost sailed over the first baseman's head, he couldn't come up with anything.

“Nice job pitching the other day,” the coach began. Suddenly Tiki had the weird thought that maybe Coach was going to make him a
pitcher
. Tiki barely had time to savor this enticing idea when the coach added, “You've got a strong arm. I've been thinking about it, and I'm
not happy with Chris's arm strength in right. Too many teams are going first to third on us. How would you feel about switching positions for the next game?”

It wasn't really a question—it was a decision the coach had already made. That much, Tiki was clear on. He'd played on enough teams to know when coaches were really asking your opinion and when they were just trying to seem democratic.

“Whatever's good for the team, Coach,” Tiki said, giving the correct answer to all such questions from coaches.

“Attaboy. Be sure you get some outfield practice before the next game. I'm excited to see how many long flies you and your brother can run down between you. And with that arm of yours, we're going to get some outfield assists from you, too, I'm sure.” He offered Tiki his hand to shake, then said, “See you out there.”

That was Tiki's cue to go. Back on the field, he met Ronde's inquisitive look. “He switched me to right field,” he told his twin.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Tiki said with a sigh. “He said it was because of Chris Jones's weak arm. But I kind of think it's because I was throwing wild at second.”

“Well, it's not all bad,” Ronde offered. “Just think—it'll be the two of us out there, side by side. The Barber brothers. That's a first for us in any sport!”

Tiki had to admit, it was an appealing idea when you looked at it that way. He decided to set aside his feeling that it was a punishment and go with whatever was best for the team. It wasn't just a mantra with him and Ronde. It was what they really believed, when push came to shove. Being all about the team had carried them to two straight state championships in football, and neither Tiki nor Ronde was going to change their approach now, so close to the end of their time at Hidden Valley.

• • •

The next afternoon the Eagles traveled to William Byrd Junior High to play the Badgers, a team that had been talked about before the season as a real powerhouse but that had started out 0–4. Either (a) they weren't as good as everyone thought, or (b) they were just about to break out and crush their next opponent. Tiki sure hoped it was a, not b.

The game turned out to be a slugfest and a nail-biter, with both pitchers giving up four runs before the third inning was over.

Tiki and Ronde were two for two, and each of them had made a nice play in the outfield, where a lot of Ian's pitches were being hit.

In the fourth, John Benson took over the pitching duties, and things got quieter. The score remained 4–4 into the bottom of the sixth, when with one out and men on second and third, the Badger's cleanup hitter
launched a high, sinking fly ball to shallow right center.

Tiki took off after it like a shot. It was in the no-man's-land between right and center field, but he was the closest man to it. Just as the ball was about to fall into his glove, he got hit in the head, hard—so hard, he fell to the ground, seeing stars!

For a moment he didn't know where he was or what had happened. Then a second later came the realization that everyone was screaming.

The ball! Where was the ball? Tiki got up, looked into his glove, and saw that it wasn't there. He looked around and realized that Ronde was lying on the ground next to him, motionless!

But there in Ronde's glove was the ball! Tiki grabbed it and threw it in to second base, but he didn't watch its flight long enough to see if he'd doubled up the runners. Instead he kneeled down next to his twin and said, “Ronde! Are you okay? RONDE!”

“Oooohhhh,” Ronde moaned, slowly opening his eyes, then squinting as the sunlight hit them. “Wha' happened?” Then, as he tried to sit up, “OW! My head hurts!”

“Mine too!” Tiki said. “We butted heads, yo. Are you okay?” He helped Ronde come to a sitting position, then saw that a welt was beginning to rise on his twin's forehead.

“Man, why didn't you call for it?” Ronde asked Tiki.

“It was my ball all the way!” Tiki replied.

“Mine too,” Ronde said. “I guess I didn't think about who was playing right field.”

“Same here. If I'd have thought about it being you in center, I'd have called you off for sure.”

“No way. I would have called
you
off!”

That was the end of the argument, because at that moment Coach Raines, together with two or three other coaches from both teams, reached them and started checking to see if both boys were okay.

Tiki told them he was fine, even though his head did still hurt. But he could tell that Ronde was still shaky on his feet as they walked them both back to the bench.

“Did we get the out?” Ronde asked weakly.

“We got TWO!” Coach Raines said proudly. “You held on to the ball, and Tiki threw the runner out at second to end the inning. Best play of the whole season!” Still, Tiki could see the worry in the coach's eyes.

The two brothers sat on the bench and watched the rest of the game unfold, both of them holding ice packs to their heads.

In the top of the seventh, Ian Lloyd hit an incredible inside-the-park home run to give the Eagles the lead. Tiki tried to cheer, but his head hurt when he did, so he stopped. Ronde didn't even try. He still looked pretty woozy, in Tiki's opinion.

John Benson came on to get the Badgers out one, two,
three in the bottom of the seventh, and just like that, the Eagles were a winning team again!

Along with Ian Lloyd and Benson, Tiki and Ronde were the heroes of this game. But neither of the twins was feeling too great on this bus ride home. Tiki felt slightly nauseous and had a big ice pack tied to his head. Still, as bad as he felt right now, he was sure he'd be ready for the team's next game.

But sneaking a glance at Ronde, he wasn't so sure about his brother.

“Mom?”

“Yes, baby?”

Ronde knew she had to be worried about him if she was calling him “baby.” She almost never did that anymore. Tiki had actually gotten annoyed with her once, a year or so ago, when she'd called him “baby” in front of their friends. So Mrs. Barber was careful about saying it—except for when she couldn't help herself.

Ronde saw that her eyes were filled with concern for him. “I'm okay. Really, mom. I could go to—”

“You can go back to school tomorrow,
if
the headache is gone. That's what the doctor said. So don't go trying to sweet-talk me into letting you get out of that bed.”

“No, mom, you should go to work. I'm fine. Really.”

“Put that ice pack back where it belongs,” she ordered. “I already took the day off. I'm not taking any
chances when it comes to my baby's brains.”

Ronde sighed. He knew it would be no use to argue any further. Dr. Dreyer had given Tiki the okay to go to school, but he had ordered that Ronde be watched at least for one more day.

And both boys were forbidden to do any athletic activity for at least a week, when they would see the doctor again and be given clearance—or not.

Ronde didn't mind missing classes. His head ached too much to get any studying or reading done. But he did like watching game shows on TV, and he knew his mom would play cards with him if he got too bored.

But he hated to think what would happen to the team without him and Tiki. This was the worst possible time for the two of them to go down—and at the same time!

The Eagles were tied for second place in their division at 3–2, but they were about to face two of the best teams in the whole league, Pulaski and Patrick Henry. If the team lost both those games, they'd pretty much have to go undefeated the rest of the season to make the play-offs. And that was
if
Tiki and Ronde could come back after missing only two games!

Ronde adjusted the ice pack on his forehead, which was being held in place by a cloth bandage. His head hurt only a little now—not like the day before—and he suspected that at this point it was the cold of the ice pack that was hurting the most.

He thought about taking it off before the twenty minutes was up, but he knew his mom would somehow, with her uncanny sixth sense, know he had done it, and if she caught him cheating, she would make him start the twenty minutes all over again.

Not worth it.
Ronde left the bandage in place and closed his eyes to wait it out.

• • •

Ronde couldn't bear to watch. Peeking from between his fingers, he saw the ball come down out of the bright May sky. He watched as seventh grader Jimmy Krupkowski, his substitute in center field, tried to find the ball in the blinding sunshine. Ronde only hoped Jimmy wouldn't get conked on the head by the ball. Three outfielders with concussions would be the absolute end of everything!

But no, the ball didn't hit Jimmy's head, or his mitt, either. It dropped right in front of him, and the Patriots' hitter raced around second heading for third. It took so long for Jimmy to locate the ball, what with everybody screaming at him from the bench and the stands, that the runner was halfway home from third before he even picked it up!

The score now read 9–4, Patriots. Ever since Ronde and Tiki had conked heads in right center, the Eagles' fortunes had taken a steep dive. The team had looked lost the previous week in getting thumped by Pulaski,
10–3 (They'd narrowly avoided the “mercy” rule, where the game ends early if one team leads by ten runs.)

And today the Eagles were getting relentlessly pounded by Patrick Henry. Jimmy had already made three bad plays and was oh for whatever, without reaching base even once so far in either of the two games.

Ronde felt sorry for him, but even sorrier for Tiki's replacement in right. Anthony Campbell was also a seventh grader. He had barely made the team and hadn't had any experience at all in game action.

Anthony, to his credit, would stop the ball from getting by him, even if he didn't catch it cleanly. But once he had it in his hand, he had no idea where to throw it! At least four times in the past two games, he'd fired the ball to the wrong base, or missed the cutoff man, or thrown it way wild.

It was hard for those two kids, and even harder for Ronde and Tiki. They had to sit there, powerless to help, while the rest of the team faltered. It was like watching a snowball falling down a mountain, slowly turning into a gigantic avalanche.