Wind Up, Derek Jeter [little red riding hood read aloud .txt] 📗

relaxed and having fun. He also knew that when she tensed up, she didn’t play nearly as well.

Sure enough, having walked two batters and hit another in the previous inning, Avery threw her first pitch right down the middle of the plate.

Luckily, the batter let it go by. He was the Pirates’ number eight hitter. Derek had seen him play last year and remembered him not being very athletic. Still, he was big, and if he ever got hold of one…

Avery’s next pitch was another meatball, but this time the hitter was ready. He hit it a mile to right, way over the head of Vijay, who’d been playing shallow against the bottom of the lineup.

The Pirates bench erupted in cheers as their man lumbered into third, just ahead of the relay throw!

Seeing the Pirates jumping up and down made Avery lose her cool altogether. With a scream of rage and frustration, she threw her mitt to the ground as hard as she could, then squatted down with her head between her knees and roared again.

“Hey!” Coach K yelled at her, clapping his hands emphatically. “Get back in the game, kid! Let’s hold ’em right here!”

Avery’s eyes were wild with rage, and Derek knew she was furious at herself for putting the team in an early hole. She stood up and closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and rolled her shoulders around in circles.

Good, Derek thought. She’s calming herself down.

From that moment on, Avery seemed to find her game. She threw the same pitches, but now they were catching the edges of the plate. She started mixing her speeds, which got the Pirates’ hitters off-balance, taking weak hacks and missing badly.

Three strikeouts later, the Yankees ran back to the bench, feeling like they’d just dodged a bullet—and maybe even swung the momentum their way!

“Hey,” Derek said as he passed Avery and they touched mitts. “Nice going there.”

“Yeah, right,” she muttered, looking away.

“Don’t worry, Ave,” he told her. “We’ve got ’em right where we want ’em.” He grinned, to show her he meant it as a semi-joke.

She looked up at him, not even cracking a smile. “Is that supposed to be funny?” she asked. “Is that supposed to make me feel better or something?”

“Okay! Sorry I said anything,” Derek told her, backing away with his hands up.

“What’s going on?” Vijay asked as Derek sat down next to him. “You okay?”

“Me? I’m fine. It’s Avery.”

“Ah, don’t take it personally. She just needs some space probably, huh?”

“I guess so.”

“Listen, though,” Vijay said. “I noticed something. Did you see in the first inning how their catcher just blocks pitches in the dirt? He doesn’t even try to catch them. If we’re on base, we can steal when the ball gets away!”

“I guess,” Derek agreed. “That’s if we can get some men on base.”

“Yes. We can’t be swinging at the low pitches, for sure.”

Vijay had a good point.

“I’m going to pass the word.” Derek got up and spoke to Harry, who was leading off the inning. Then he spoke to the others, one by one.

It was good advice, though it didn’t result in any runs in the second or third. Still, the Yankees, by letting the low pitches go by, were working the starter for long counts. Vijay even managed to work a walk, becoming the Yankees’ first base runner.

Even though she had given up that extra-base hit to start the second, Avery had held the Pirates scoreless for three straight innings, giving up only that triple and two singles along the way. The Yankees were still down 2–0. But she’d turned her outing around, and because of that the team still had a fighting chance.

Take a strike…. Take a strike! Derek repeated the mantra inside his head as he stood in the batter’s box, leading off the bottom of the fourth inning. He knew he was so jacked up right now, he was likely to swing at almost anything, so it was important to keep reminding himself what his job was in this situation—to get on base. Period.

He let a fastball go by, right down the middle for strike one. But Derek noticed that it didn’t have the buzz it had had in the first inning. In fact, he was sure he could have caught up with it. If he throws another one…

He did, but it was in the dirt, and Derek just barely managed to check his swing. He proceeded to work the pitcher until he had a full count. Then Derek fouled off four straight strikes before finally being rewarded with a walk.

Success! he told himself. He was only the Yankees’ second runner of the game!

Derek hoped Pete would take a strike too, since the Yanks were two runs down and needed base runners. Pete, however, was not the kind of hitter to think about those things. It was pretty much “see ball, hit ball” with him.

Luckily, he got another so-so fastball, and hit it right on the nose! Derek scooted to third, hopping to avoid the screaming grounder that easily made it past the shortstop and into left field.

Harry was up next. He’d looked weak at the plate so far—no surprise. After all, he’d been passed over as the starting pitcher today because he’d spent three days the previous week in bed with a virus. Derek could tell he still wasn’t himself. Harry valiantly hung in there, making the pitcher waste seven pitches, but in the end he could only manage a weak grounder to second.

Still, that was enough for Derek. He took off like a shot for home, hoping the second baseman would try to nail him at the plate, instead of going for the easy double play.

Sure enough, the fielder took the bait. His throw home was high—and Derek slid in under the tag!

“SAFE!” yelled the ump.

Pete kept going, all the way to third! The catcher threw down there, too late, and that allowed Harry to pull into second, huffing and puffing.

One run in, men on second and