Curveball Page 2

  It didn’t matter to him. Let the other people do the talking; he just loved to play baseball.

  3

  Instincts

  Eddie could feel the excitement building as the bus climbed Palisades Avenue toward the Weehawken field. Those four straight losses at the beginning of the season felt like a long time ago; this team definitely had momentum now.

  Outside the bus windows, the Hudson River was reflecting the sun. The George Washington Bridge loomed large in the distance. This stretch of New Jersey along the Hudson River was one of the most densely populated areas in the country.

  “Finally got some of that sunshine breaking through,” Spencer said to Eddie as the bus rolled into the parking lot. “About time, I’d say. Seems like every game we’ve played it’s been cold or drizzly. Or both.”

  Eddie nodded.

  “I need to get that warmth in the muscles,” Spencer said. “You know what I’m saying? More power.”

  “Yeah,” Eddie said.

  Spencer stretched out his arms in front of him. “Be hitting that ball all over the place today, I think. Feeling good. You?”

  “Sure,” Eddie said. “I feel good.”

  “Time to even up that record.” Spencer stood and stepped into the aisle. “Hammer that little ball over the fence a few times.”

  Eddie gave a tight smile and nodded again.

  “Just don’t tire yourself out with all that jabbering you’re doing,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes.

  Miguel leaned over from the seat in front of Eddie. “Yeah, Ventura,” he said. “Don’t you ever shut up? I counted six words out of you on the ride over here. That must be some kind of record.”

  “No,” Spencer said. “His record for most words at one time is that quote he gave Calvin for the school paper the other day. That was, like, three whole sentences. Anyway, Eddie, I’m the one who hit the home run. What’s he quoting you for?”

  Eddie laughed. “I don’t know. Calvin had this deadline…. I just happened to be around when he needed me.”

  Eddie had a poor day with his bat, grounding out three times and striking out once. But it didn’t matter, as the Hornets built a big lead early and pitcher David Choi was nearly unhittable.

  So all that was left as the Hornets took the field for the bottom of the seventh inning was to preserve the shutout.

  David was sweating heavily, but his pitches still had plenty of speed. He looked focused and confident as he struck out the first two batters. There was lots of chatter from the Hornets’ infielders.

  “Mow ’em down!” yelled Miguel from his shortstop position.

  “No batter,” called Lamont from second base.

  Eddie swallowed hard and swept his foot through the dirt in front of him. It had been a very routine day in the field for him. A handful of put-outs on throws from the other infielders, one easy pop-up that he caught in foul territory. And Weehawken had only had three base runners, so there hadn’t been much activity on that end, either.

  But he stayed alert. One more out and this one would be over.

  Ventura really sets the tone for this infield, the announcer’s voice in his head was saying. Always calm but always ready. The kid’s got Major League instincts.

  David went into his windup and delivered the pitch. The Weehawken batter swung hard but only managed to top the ball, and it bounced quickly toward the gap to Eddie’s right.

  Eddie lunged toward the ball and got his glove on it, stopping it as he fell to one knee. He scooped up the ball and raced toward first base as the batter ran up the base path. David was running toward the base, too, but Eddie decided not to throw the ball. He was closer to the base than the batter.

  He reached first base a half step before the batter, landing with his left foot and hopping back to avoid a collision.

  The umpire called the batter out, and Eddie tossed the ball to David with a grin. “Great pitching!” he said.

  Superb effort from Ventura, said that radio voice. A game-clinching play, for sure.

  “Nice hustle, Eddie,” David said as he was lifted off his feet by Jared. All of the Hornets were on the field now, celebrating win number four.

  Eddie let out his breath. His heart was beating fast. He followed his happy teammates to the bus.

  “All right, good effort,” Coach Wimmer said, standing in the aisle and gripping the overhead railing with one hand as the bus lurched forward. “A couple more like that and we’ll be contenders.”

  “Coach of the year!” called Miguel.

  Coach blushed. “Yes, Miguel, I’m certain that the Hall of Fame will be inducting me any day now,” he joked. “Okay, enjoy this win. We’ll get back to work tomorrow. You guys aren’t ready for the World Series yet, believe me.”

  Sunday night Eddie sat at the computer terminal in the family room, pondering his next article for Wednesday’s school paper. He’d promised Calvin that he’d turn it in on Monday morning.

  “School project?” asked his mother, looking into the room.

  “Not really. Something for the newspaper.”

  “Wonderful,” she said. Mom was big on extracurricular stuff. All of the Ventura kids had been encouraged to play musical instruments and get involved in school clubs and other activities.

  With Eddie, it had been mostly sports. He’d taken some piano lessons in second grade, but all the repetition bored him silly. He got out of that by promising to join the Cub Scouts. And soon he’d gotten out of Cub Scouts by promising to join the junior choir at church.

  That hadn’t lasted long, either. This time it wasn’t his choice; his singing was so flat and quiet that the choir director asked him to leave.

  But he always stuck with sports. From his first season of Little League baseball, he’d known this was for him. Now maybe he’d found something else, too. Writing for the paper seemed like fun.

  “Don’t forget to take the trash cans out tonight,” Mom said.

  “No problem. As soon as I’m done writing.”

  He had done some studying that afternoon of the articles in the sports sections of the Hudson Dispatch and the New York Times. The most interesting articles did a lot more than just give the score and the major details of the games. They seemed to put Eddie right there in the moment, making him feel like a part of the action.

  He decided to try that, too. It shouldn’t be too hard, he figured, since he really had been part of the action.

  Bam.

  The baseball rocketed off the Weehawken hitter’s bat like a speeding bullet, zinging toward right field.

  That’s a double for sure! the fans must have been thinking.

  But quick as lightning, Hudson City first baseman Eddie Ventura dove for the ball as it skipped toward the outfield. With his arm stretched like a rubber band, Ventura managed to knock the ball down with his glove. Then, scrambling to his feet, he scooped up the ball and raced toward first base, getting there a mere step ahead of the speedy Weehawken hitter.

  “Out!” yelled the umpire.

  Game over! Hudson City 7, Weehawken 0. Another big win for the Hornets!

  Pitcher David Choi went the distance to earn the victory, allowing just two hits. Spencer Lewis and Miguel Rivera each had run-scoring doubles for the Hornets.

  “It’s a whole new season now,” Coach Wimmer told his players after the game.

  With their record even at four wins and four losses, the Hornets are steadily moving up in the standings. “We’re as good as any team in the league,” said Coach, who thinks he may be headed for the Hall of Fame soon. “Now we just have to prove it.”

  The Hornets will have a chance to do just that when they host league-leading Liberty Junior High School of Jersey City this afternoon.

  Not bad, Eddie thought as he read his work over. This kid might turn out to be a great sportswriter, too. That’s some combination of brains and athletic talent at work right there. He’s certainly worth keeping an eye on.

  4

  Big Doings

&nb
sp; Eddie walked toward home plate Wednesday afternoon before the game, ready to take some batting practice. He noticed David Choi sitting in the dugout, intently reading the school paper.

  David was reading the back page—the sports section. Eddie stopped for a moment to see David’s reaction.

  “Wow,” David said with an amused look as he set down the paper. “How much did you pay Calvin to write that one, Ventura?”

  Eddie gave a sly smile and shrugged. “Calvin’s in my math class.” That was true, of course, but it had nothing to do with the situation.

  “I throw a two-hit shutout and he writes about you fielding a ground ball!” David said. He shook his head but laughed. “I’ll have to have a little talk with that guy.”

  “Ah, leave him alone,” Eddie said. “Calvin has to write the entire sports section.”

  “Okay, well let’s give him something good to write about again.” David picked up his glove and started walking toward the outfield. It was Miguel’s turn to pitch today.

  Liberty was 7–1 and well ahead of the pack in the league standings. They were a near certainty to make the playoffs. Things weren’t anywhere near as sure for Hudson City, but they were definitely on an upswing.

  So when the Hornets took the field for the first inning, it was with a great deal of enthusiasm and confidence. But they were also feeling pressure.

  Big game for the Hornets, Eddie thought as he jogged toward first base. Over at first, you’ve got Eddie Ventura, who’s been rock-solid in the field all season. This kid’s got poise and skills that can take him a long way. Maybe all the way to the Majors.

  But this is a big test this afternoon. Liberty’s been the class of the league so far. The Hornets have got to be at the top of their game to have any chance at all.

  And it turned out that both teams were at their best, at least defensively. Miguel held Liberty scoreless through the first four innings. But his Liberty counterpart was doing even better—Hudson City had only had one base runner.

  Eddie had struck out on three pitches his first time up, but he had a good feeling as he stepped into the on-deck circle. He’d been studying this pitcher’s pattern.

  The guy was on the short side, but he had long arms that allowed for a sweeping overhand pitching style that was difficult to judge. He had started every batter with a wide, diving curveball that looked as if it would be way outside but broke sharply at the last second. Then, with the batter bracing for another confusing curve, he blazed a fastball right by him.

  It had worked well so far. Nearly every Hudson City batter had either swung wildly at that first pitch or stood still as it veered over the plate for a strike.

  And as Eddie watched, the Liberty pitcher threw that curve to Jared. Maybe Jared was expecting it, too, because he held his ground. And this time the pitch curved too far inside, nipping Jared just below his shoulder.

  Jared dropped his bat and winced, rubbing that spot. But he turned and winked at Eddie, then trotted to first base.

  Finally, an opportunity for the Hornets to break through with a run, Eddie thought. This kid Ventura is smart and patient. You can expect some big doings here, fans.

  The Hudson City dugout had come alive with shouts of “Let’s go, Eddie!” and “Move him over!”

  Eddie knew that his task was to get Jared to second base. He dug in and waited for the pitch, eager to see if the pitcher would stick with that same pattern.

  Here came that big curve, as expected. Eddie took the pitch for a strike, then made a show of looking frustrated and confused. He wanted to make sure the pitcher thought he’d fooled him again and would follow up with the fastball.

  Coach Wimmer was flashing Eddie the bunt sign. Jared would be running on the pitch.

  As the pitcher’s arm came forward, Jared took off for second. Eddie squared himself in the box and held out the bat, gently tapping the ball toward third base.

  A terrific bunt, perfectly placed.

  Eddie ran at top speed up the base path. The ball arrived just before he did. He was out, but the sacrifice had worked. Jared was safe at second with only one out, and Spencer was coming up to bat.

  “Beautiful job!” Coach Wimmer said as Eddie entered the dugout. Lamont smacked him on the back, and Willie gave him a high five.

  Outstanding play by Ventura, as we’ve come to expect, Eddie thought. That could be the key moment of the game right there.

  Spencer continued his clutch hitting, smacking a line-drive single up the middle to bring Jared home. That proved to be all the Hornets needed, as they shut Liberty down for three more innings to earn a tight 1–0 victory.

  Eddie was beaming as the players shook hands after the game. He really had played a huge role in setting up that game-winning run. He was already thinking about his next article for the paper. They’d beaten the best team in the league!

  There was no better feeling than helping his team win. He had spoken louder with his actions than he ever did with his voice.

  “So let’s hit some grub spot,” Spencer was saying to Miguel and Jared in the locker room after the game. “Celebrate this big win with some fajitas, maybe.”

  Spencer looked over at Eddie, who was sitting on the bench in front of his locker, one shoe on and one shoe off. “You hungry, Ventura?” Spencer asked. “Up for some Mexican or something?”

  “Sure.” Eddie took out his wallet and looked inside. It was empty. “I got, like, thirty cents,” he said. “You spot me some cash?”

  “At ten percent interest,” Spencer replied. “Anybody else want to come? The train’s pulling out.”

  No one else could make it, so Eddie walked with the three others on the wide Boulevard sidewalk toward El Torito. They were all still wearing their red-and-white uniforms and baseball hats.

  “Hold on, guys,” Eddie said as they reached Twelfth Street. “I can maybe get some money from my dad.”

  The law office—Ventura and Zambrano, Attorneys/Abogados—was on the second floor of a building in the middle of the block, above a computer store. Eddie opened the door and led the boys up the steep, narrow stairs.

  Mr. Ventura was in his office, typing at a computer terminal. He had short curly hair, mostly silver in color, and a stockier build than his son. He stood up and stepped out from around his desk, which was piled high with papers. “Well, this an honor,” he said with a smile. “We’ve got the heart of the lineup visiting, huh?”

  “That’s us,” Spencer said.

  “So how’d it go?” Mr. Ventura asked. “Did you beat those guys?”

  “Big-time,” Spencer replied. “Miguel was the man. Shut down the best team in the league, right?”

  Mr. Ventura turned to his son. “How did you do, Eddie?”

  “Flawless,” Spencer said before Eddie could speak. “Laid down a nice bunt to set up the winning run. The only run.”

  “Probably be the headline in next week’s paper,” Miguel said. “‘Ventura Bunts Hornets to Victory.’ And, oh, by the way,” he continued, “some kid named Rivera pitched a three-hit shutout. Maybe they’ll squeeze that in at the end, after a few paragraphs about Eddie’s heroics.”

  Eddie blushed but grinned. Miguel had a point. His article might have to focus on someone else’s contributions this week.

  Mr. Ventura laughed. He knew that his son wanted to remain an anonymous reporter, but he could see that the secret might not last much longer.

  “Well,” Eddie said, “like I was saying, Calvin had those deadlines….”

  “And you just happened to be in the right place,” Spencer said.

  “That’s about it. Anyway, Dad, could you give me a few bucks? We were going to get a little snack on the way home.”

  “Why not? A game-winning bunt has to be worth something.”

  “Worth at least twenty bucks,” Spencer said.

  “How about five?” Mr. Ventura said. “A home run, now that’d be worth twenty.”

  “Thanks,” Eddie said as his father handed him a bill. “Yo
u working late again?”

  “Nope. Leaving in five minutes. You’re lucky you caught me.”

  On the wall behind Mr. Ventura was a large photograph of the whole family from several years before. Eddie, about age six, was smiling broadly, and his top two front teeth were missing. He was wearing a blue suit jacket and a blue-and-yellow-striped tie, and his dark hair was buzzed nearly to the scalp.

  Miguel pointed at the picture. “Now your brother and sister, they’re good athletes,” he kidded Eddie. “Guess they got all the talent, huh?”

  “Guess so,” Eddie said. “There was only so much to go around.”

  “Too bad,” Spencer said. “You were one handsome dude back then, too. What happened?”

  “Got old and ugly,” Eddie said. “Like my old man.”

  Mr. Ventura laughed again and pointed toward the door. “Get of here and let me finish writing this memo so I can get home to dinner. I’m starving.”

  “Us, too,” said Jared. “We’re gone.”

  The four boys slipped into a booth near the front of El Torito, and a waitress immediately brought over some chips and salsa.

  “I’d love to have some guacamole with that, please,” Spencer said.

  “Sure thing,” she said.

  “Very nice manners, Spence,” Jared kidded.

  “I try.” Spencer popped his fist down lightly in front of Miguel. “Your uncle here tonight?” he asked.

  Miguel’s aunt and uncle owned the restaurant. Spencer’s implication was clear: if Uncle Victor knew they were there, he might send out some freebies.

  “He’s always here,” Miguel replied. “And believe me, he always knows who else is in here, too. But this is a business. He can’t be giving away the house.”