Baseball World Series Page 4

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Liam and Carter introduced themselves. “Well, whenever you’re ready,” Liam said.

  The Aussie held up a finger gun. “On your marks… get set… go!”

  Carter and Liam shoved off, arms slicing the surface with steady strokes and legs thrashing violently behind. The waves turned choppy, making it hard for Liam to see Carter clearly. When he touched the deep-end edge and swung around, though, he realized with glee that he was ahead.

  Liam ramped up his speed another notch, churning through the water with all his might. His arms screamed for him to ease up, his legs begged for rest, but he ignored their pleas until his fingertips brushed the pool’s side. He whirled. Carter was there, too, panting for breath.

  “Who won?” Liam demanded to know.

  Jon showed Liam a tiny space between his thumb and forefinger. “You did, by that much.”

  Liam whooped.

  “Go ahead and enjoy it,” Carter said with a grin. “It’s the only time you’re going to beat me this tournament!”

  For a while, the boys swam races with Jon, Jim, and Nigel. Then it was time to get ready for supper.

  It was only later that night, when Liam was drowsing in bed, that Carter’s words came back to him.

  It’s the only time you’re going to beat me this tournament.

  He knew Carter hadn’t meant anything by it. But for some reason, that sentence had him tossing and turning for the next hour.

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  Stop being such a coward, Carter rebuked himself. Go talk to him!

  It was late Wednesday afternoon, and he and his teammates were making their way through the food line at the pre–Grand Slam Parade picnic. Hosted by a local university, the picnic was held outside under big white tents. One at a time, the teams filed past banquet tables loaded with food, the players filling their plates with hot dogs and hamburgers, salads and side dishes. They helped themselves to drinks and desserts, too, and found seats beneath another tent.

  The West players were just approaching the food tent. They were easy to identify in their team jerseys and matching caps. Carter, moving through the food line with the other Mid-Atlantic players, picked out Liam right away. He also saw Rodney, whom he had met while visiting Liam earlier this summer.

  Then he saw Phillip.

  Last year, Phillip had taken him by surprise, popping out from a corner of The Grove rec room and calling him Number One Fan, the nickname he’d given Carter at baseball camp.

  Carter hated that nickname. It made him feel stupid.

  When he first met Phillip at camp, he’d been starstruck, believing Phillip was related to the late, great Joe DiMaggio. He’d asked Phillip to sign his camp jersey. Phillip had scrawled To Carter Jones, DiMaggio’s Number One Fan! on the shoulder. Later, Carter remembered that Joe DiMaggio had no direct descendants, so there was no way he and Phillip were related. But the damage was done. Phillip had called him Number One Fan for the rest of camp.

  This year, Carter intended to make the first move. Now that Phillip and Liam were teammates, friends even, it just made sense to put their past differences aside, he told himself. Off the field at least. On the field, well, that was another story.

  In the past two days, he’d spotted Phillip twice in the dining hall and once at the pool. But he was always at a distance, so it had been easy to come up with excuses—he had to eat with his team, he wasn’t going swimming anymore—to avoid crossing paths.

  Now with the teams mingling at the picnic, a meeting seemed inevitable. Carter tried to psych himself up to approach Phillip. He wasn’t having much luck.

  I’ll eat first, he decided as the Mid-Atlantic players found seats together, then I’ll go talk to him. I’ll just walk up, stick out my hand, and say… something. He figured that “something” would come to him. If it didn’t, the handshake would be a start. One step at a time.

  When he stood up to dispose of his trash fifteen minutes later, his stomach still flip-flopped with nerves. Here goes nothing, he thought.

  Rodney Driscoll suddenly appeared in front of him.

  “Dude!” Rodney cried. “I was hoping to run into you here!”

  “Hey, Rodney!” Carter said, grinning. “It’s awesome to see you! But I can’t hang out right now. I’m going to—”

  “—talk to Phillip?” Rodney interrupted with a knowing glance from Carter to Phillip and back. When Carter nodded, Rodney pulled out his phone. “Before you do, don’t you want to hear what he’s been saying about you?”

  The smile slipped from Carter’s face. “Hang on. DiMaggio’s been talking about me?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Look at this.” Rodney swiped his finger across the phone’s surface and held it out so they could both see the screen. “Your cousin Melanie sent this video clip to me.”

  As part of her documentary about Ravenna’s tournament experience, Melanie had interviewed many of the players, their families, and their coaches. The video on Rodney’s phone was a joint interview with Liam and Phillip. Rodney thumbed up the volume so they could hear over the picnickers.

  “Liam and I got off to a rocky start back at the Little League Baseball World Series,” Phillip was saying. “I’m not going to go into what happened there, though, because it’s all in the past.”

  Rodney fast-forwarded. “That’s not the interesting part. Here we go.” He restarted the clip.

  “And what about Carter Jones?” Melanie asked from offscreen. “Is he in the past now, too?”

  On-screen, Liam’s eyes narrowed. His lips tightened.

  Carter sucked in his breath. He could read every one of Liam’s expressions. That look was a warning to Melanie to back off. He could think of only one reason for that warning. Liam’s worried about what Phillip might say about me. That made Carter worried, too.

  Phillip shifted slightly in his seat before replying. “Carter and I have had some issues,” he acknowledged.

  Carter braced himself for Phillip’s interpretation of their “issues.”

  “But I respect him,” Phillip said.

  Carter’s jaw dropped. Next to him, Rodney started laughing.

  “He’s a really good pitcher,” Phillip continued. “He’d have to be, I guess, to learn how to throw a knuckleball. I mean, I couldn’t do it.”

  Liam’s expression changed to one of astonishment. “Wait, you tried to learn the knuckleball?”

  Phillip nodded. “Tried. Failed. Gave up, actually.”

  Liam’s laugh boomed out of the phone’s tiny speakers. “Good thing, considering I’m your catcher now. See, I tried to catch Carter’s knuckleball. Tried. Failed. Gave up, actually.”

  Rodney hit the Stop button then. “Did you hear the key phrases?” he asked mischievously. “ ‘In the past. I respect him. Really good pitcher.’ ” He waved the phone. “I can replay the clip if you missed them!”

  Carter jabbed him in the ribs. “Very funny!”

  “Oh, there’s one other thing, too,” Rodney added. “I don’t have it on video or anything, so you’ll have to take my word for it. Before the West Regional Tournament, Phillip told Liam he never should have played that prank on you at baseball camp.”

  Carter stared at Rodney. “You know about that?”

  Rodney nodded. “Phillip mentioned it once. I asked Liam about it later, and he told me.”

  “Oh. So you know there’s been some bad blood between me and Phillip since then.” Carter jerked his chin at Rodney’s phone. “What I don’t get is why you shared that with me.”

  Rodney smiled. “I’m a big believer in fresh starts, Carter. Sean and I got one years ago, when our dad adopted us. We hoped Liam could have one in California, which is why we never brought up his World Series strikeout.” He gestured to the players around them. “This tournament should be about baseball, about playing with and against people from all over the world who love the sport the way we do. I didn’t want an old grudge to ruin that for you or Phillip—or to get in the w
ay of you playing the best ball you can. That’s why I showed you the clip.”

  Carter nodded slowly as Rodney’s words sank in. Then he looked over to where Phillip was sitting.

  At that same instant, Phillip glanced up. He and Carter locked eyes.

  A year ago, Phillip’s gaze would have been mocking and loaded with smugness. The connection would have sent a jolt of anxiety through Carter’s system. But this year, Carter saw something different in Phillip’s eyes.

  It’s like he’s hoping I’ll come over, Carter thought with a start.

  But before he could make a move in that direction, one of his team hosts hurried over to him. “Sorry to interrupt your conversation, Carter, but it’s time to board the shuttle bus for the parade. You should probably join your team, too,” she said with a nod to Rodney.

  “Will do!” Rodney turned to leave.

  Carter caught him by the arm. “Thanks, man.”

  Rodney’s smile was full of warmth. “Happy to help.”

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  And how did Carter seem after you shared that clip with him?” Liam asked curiously.

  Rodney had told him about his conversation with Carter on the ride over to the parade. Now they were climbing onto their float, one of eight decorated with the Little League World Series team colors and names, each carrying one U.S. and one International team.

  But the parade was much bigger than those eight floats. Other flatbed trucks were decorated by area businesses and attractions. One carried a musical group with a singer, a drummer, and two guitar players. Local dignitaries rode in fancy cars while people in costume or uniform lined up behind banners bearing their groups’ names. Marching bands and baton twirlers added to the festive mood.

  “Seemed happy and relieved,” Rodney replied to Liam’s question. “I think he’d have gone over and talked to Phillip right then if we hadn’t had to get on the buses.”

  “That’s really great,” Liam said. “They’ll both have a better time here if they’re not always looking over their shoulders.”

  Rodney slid him a look loaded with meaning. “Know anyone else who might benefit by making peace with a rival?”

  Liam kicked the side of the float. He knew what Rodney was suggesting: He should let go of his jealousy and resentment of Ash once and for all. As he looked around at the excited players and paraders, he realized his friend was right.

  If I keep hanging on to those bad feelings, he thought, then I won’t really be able to enjoy this tournament. So I’ve got to ditch them.

  Suddenly, he wanted to find Ash right away. It was impossible, though. He couldn’t leave the float. Then he spotted a man in a Mid-Atlantic jersey pushing his way through the throng. Liam jostled his way to the side of the truck bed and yelled, “Coach Harrison!”

  For a second he thought his former Pennsylvania coach hadn’t heard him. But then Coach Harrison stopped and looked around. Liam waved frantically.

  The coach grinned. “Liam!” he called. “Long time no see! Huge congratulations on winning your Region!”

  “Thanks, Coach. You too! Listen, can you—”

  “I’m sorry, Liam, but I can’t talk right now,” Coach Harrison interrupted. He held up a Mid-Atlantic baseball cap. “Craig forgot this on the shuttle bus. We’ll catch up later, okay?” He turned away.

  “No! Wait! Coach! Can you give Ash a message from me?”

  The coach gave Liam a surprised look. “Ash? Not Carter or one of your old teammates?”

  “Ash,” Liam said firmly. “Please tell him…” He searched for the right words. “Tell him I said congratulations on winning the Region and that I hope we can get to know each other this week. And that I think—no, I know—that Carter’s in good hands with him behind the plate.”

  Coach Harrison’s grin broadened. “I’ll tell him. Have fun tonight!”

  “You too!” Liam waved good-bye. He felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

  “You heard the man,” Rodney said, bumping his shoulder into Liam. “Let’s have fun!”

  Phillip joined Rodney and Liam. He handed each boy a sack of wrapped candy. “We’re supposed to toss this candy to the kids during the parade.”

  Rodney peeked inside his bag. “Good thing Sean isn’t here. Half of this would be gone before the parade even started!”

  Sean had never been bothered that he hadn’t made the All-Star team—until he learned that he couldn’t travel with his brother and father to the tournaments. During Regionals, he’d stayed with relatives who lived near San Bernardino. But they had no family in Pennsylvania.

  “Can’t I stow away in the cargo hold?” he’d begged his father on their last morning in San Bernardino. “Just put me in a dog crate. I’ll be fine!”

  “And where would you stay when you got there?” Coach Driscoll had asked.

  “You’ll rent me a hotel room?” Sean had replied hopefully.

  But the coach’s answer had been a firm no. Rodney and Coach Driscoll had boarded the bus for the airport, and Sean had gone back to stay with his relatives.

  The boys’ conversation was interrupted by a booming voice announcing the start of the Grand Slam Parade. Adrenaline shot through Liam’s veins. He gave a whoop. As he did, he caught the eye of a player from the Netherlands, the International team that shared the West’s float. They’d never met before, but that didn’t matter. They grinned at each other in mutual glee as the procession left the staging area and rounded the corner to Millionaires’ Row, the historic main street that cut through downtown Williamsport.

  Roars and cheers from thousands of spectators lining the street greeted the participants as they came into view. Liam felt enveloped by the sound—and he loved it.

  “This… is… awesome!” Rodney bellowed, underhanding a fistful of candy to a group of shouting kids.

  One of the kids shouted louder than the others. He jumped up and down, too. “Hey! Hey! Rodney! Surprise!”

  Rodney’s jaw dropped when he saw who it was. “Sean?! How—when—huh?”

  “Surprise!” repeated a deep voice full of laughter behind the boys. It was Coach Driscoll. He was grinning from ear to ear.

  Rodney stared at him, dumbstruck.

  “I didn’t want him to miss this,” the coach said. “He came with the McGraths.”

  “Is he staying with the Joneses, too?” Liam asked. His sister and parents were sleeping at Carter’s house, a short drive from Williamsport.

  “Actually,” Coach Driscoll said, “the Joneses were kind enough to arrange for Sean and your family to stay at the LaBries’. Apparently, Mrs. LaBrie is staying with a friend in Williamsport during the tournament, so her house was going to sit empty.”

  It took Liam a moment to process what the coach just told him. “Wait a minute,” he said slowly. “Are you telling me that Sean is staying in my old house?”

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  The weather during the parade had been picture-perfect, but on Thursday morning, Carter woke to see gray clouds scudding across the sky. By nine thirty, the clouds had darkened to an angry black.

  “Think the opening ceremonies will get rained out?” Charlie S. asked Carter as they dressed in their Mid-Atlantic uniforms.

  Carter hoped not. He liked the pageantry of those ceremonies almost as much as the Grand Slam Parade.

  The parade had been a blast. The streets had been packed with fans. Though the signs and banners in support of the “home” team from the Mid-Atlantic Region outnumbered those for the other regions, the cheers and applause had been for all the players. The best moment for him, however, was seeing the astonished look on Ash’s face when Coach Harrison delivered Liam’s message.

  “Do you think he really meant what he said?” Ash asked Carter later.

  “Absolutely,” Carter assured him.

  Ash chewed his lip. “Do you think I should stop worrying about him and focus on playing awesome baseball?”

  Carter laughed. �
�Absolutely!”

  “Then that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Me too,” Carter said.

  Miraculously, the storm held off, and the opening ceremonies started at eleven o’clock as planned. First up was Dugout, the Little League mascot, who led flag bearers around the infield of Volunteer Stadium. Then, as the song “It’s a Small World” piped out of the loudspeakers, all the teams marched onto the field behind their banners, the players waving their caps at the crowd. The umpires joined the teams on the field, too.

  After that, the mayor of South Williamsport gave a short speech. The mayor of Williamsport followed with a speech of her own. The Little League president and finally the league’s chairman of the board also spoke. All congratulated the players on their achievements, thanked the parents and volunteers for their support and tireless efforts, and offered their hopes for a competitive yet fun-filled tournament.

  They also talked about the opportunities for the players to make new friends. “We are proud and honored to welcome people from all over the world to this baseball haven,” the chairman said as he gestured to the fields and buildings nestled snugly at the foot of a mountain. “In the days ahead, the players from our sixteen teams will have the chance to learn about the different cultures represented here today.” He smiled. “And if previous tournaments are any indication, one of the top questions will be ‘What’s your favorite food?’ ”

  Laughter rippled throughout the stands and the players and officials on the field.

  “A second question often is ‘Who is your favorite player?’ ” the chairman went on. “After recitation of the player and Parent and Volunteer pledges, it will be my pleasure to introduce you to one of mine.”

  Most of the pledges were given in English, but others were in the teams’ native languages. As Carter listened to Kita Hiro from Japan, he was struck by how different Japanese was from English—and impressed when he overheard the boy speaking English to one of his team hosts later.