She took the softball out of Sarah’s hand, rubbed it up hard, slammed it back into the pocket of Sarah’s glove.
“You’re the one who needs to stop talking now and pitch,” Cassie said.
Cassie didn’t wait to see her reaction. She was on her way back to shortstop. Chris Bennett had already taken his seat next to Kathleen on the bench. Sarah threw strike one and then strike two to the Greenacres left fielder, Lily Bates, who then hit a routine ground ball to Cassie’s left. Cassie reached down, picked it up in stride, ran, and touched second base herself for the force that ended the inning.
Cassie singled with one out in the bottom of the seventh. The count went to 3–2 on Sarah. Cassie was thinking that maybe the best play for the Greenacres closer was to walk Sarah, then take her chances with Greta, even though Cassie would have moved to scoring position.
She threw Sarah a fastball instead. Sarah hit it over the center-field fence. It was 6–4, Red Sox. They were in the finals. Cassie waited at home plate for Sarah, with the rest of the Red Sox losing their minds behind her.
Cassie looked back at them and said, “Nobody touch her.”
Nobody did. They just formed a long receiving line behind Cassie that stretched nearly to first base, all of them chanting Sarah’s named.
As Sarah came down from third base, Cassie grinned and said, “Can I just say one more thing?”
“Go ahead.”
“Don’t forget to touch home plate,” she said.
THIRTY-THREE
Jack had decided that Sam would start their semifinals against the Clements Astros, who’d dropped to fourth place by the end of the regular season. That meant that if the Cubs beat Clements, Jack would start the championship game.
But only if they did beat Clements.
When he told Cassie what he was doing, she said to him, “Wait a second. Aren’t you the guy who says that we’re never supposed to look past the next game?”
Jack said, “I think we can beat Clements without me pitching.”
“But that means you think we need you more in the championship game, only, we don’t know who we’re playing in the championship game.”
“It’s gonna be Hollis Hills,” Jack said.
Cassie said, “And you know this . . . how? Rawson did end up with a better record than they did.”
“They were always the second-best team in the league next to us,” Jack said. “Just took them a while to figure that out. And then there’s one other thing?”
“What other thing?”
“I follow some of their guys on Facebook. There’s been a lot of chirp about how badly they want us.”
“Which makes you want them badly,” she said.
Jack didn’t say anything. He just smiled at her.
“You’re still putting a lot of pressure on Sam,” she said. “A couple of weeks ago you said you were thinking about starting J.B. in the play-offs.”
“He got too good as a closer,” Jack said. “And as for the pressure thing? Pretty sure Sam’s been under a lot of pressure since he started in T-ball. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
Now, after Sam had finished warming up with Teddy down the right-field line before the Clements pitcher, Cassie said to Jack, “You still have that good feeling about your starting pitcher?”
“Ask me in about an hour,” he said.
By then they were into the fourth inning, Sam was pitching as well as he had all season, working on a two-hit shutout, and the Cubs were ahead 2–0. Jack had tripled in the first, Gus had doubled him home, Teddy had singled in Gus, Cassie waving him all the way even though there was already one out. She’d noticed during warm-ups that the Astros’ right fielder had the weakest arm in their outfield. It was the kind of thing Jack had asked her to notice.
“You didn’t even hesitate to send Gus,” Jack had said when the inning was over.
Cassie had grinned. “She who hesitates ought to be coaching first,” she’d said.
“Is that a thing?”
“Now it is,” Cassie had said.
But as well as Sam had been pitching, working quickly, getting the ball back from Teddy and throwing it, he lost it just as quickly in the top of the fifth: walk, walk, hard liner to Jack for the first out, deep fly ball to Gregg Leonard near the fence in right-center that allowed both runners to advance. Then another walk. Jack made a nice play in the hole to stop what should have been a single to left. But he had no play. The runner scored from third. The bases were still loaded.
And now it was a one-run game.
Jack called time, waved for Teddy to meet him at the mound. But while Sam waited for both of them, rubbing up the baseball almost as if he just wanted something to do, Cassie noticed Sam Anthony staring at something in the distance, where the playground was.
Not something, as it turned out.
Someone.
His dad.
Whose right arm was straight up in the air.
• • •
It wasn’t that Ken Anthony had been prohibited from attending Cubs games after he’d poked the umpire that day and gotten fired as coach. But according to Cassie’s dad the league’s board of directors had made it clear to him that he wasn’t supposed to be involved in the team in any way that could have been perceived as him still coaching them. Even though nobody associated with the Cubs—maybe even including Mr. Anthony’s own son—wanted him near the team.
“What he did sent a pretty awful message,” Cassie’s dad had said. “So the board sent a pretty powerful message to him. I think he’s just stayed clear of the team more out of embarrassment than anything else.”
This wasn’t the first time Cassie had seen him watching from a distance.
But what was he doing?
In the biggest moment of Sam’s season, was he trying to coach him?
Sam finally turned away from him when Jack and Teddy got with him
