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

hadn’t been relishing the thought of having to face Brad again, who was now playing first base, having reached his pitch limit.

Mason saw six pitches before popping up to short center. It was enough for Derek to determine that this pitcher wasn’t nearly as intimidating as Brad.

Derek stepped confidently into the box. He knew this was probably his last at bat of the season, and he was determined to get a rally started.

Be smart, he told himself. We’re two runs down. You can’t win it with one swing. Just get on base.

He let one strike go by, just to get the timing right. Then, on a 2–1 count, he hit a chip shot over the first baseman’s head. Derek didn’t stop running until he was on second base!

“Let’s GOOO!” he roared, clapping his hands together so hard that it hurt. “Come on, Pete! Keep the line going!”

Derek hoped Pete got the message. Pete was always trying to hit home runs—and as a result he struck out a lot. The Yankees couldn’t afford that now.

One thing about Pete, though—he was big and intimidating. The pitcher must have been at least a little scared, because everything he threw him was away.

He wound up walking Pete, who jogged down to first muttering to himself, frustrated that he hadn’t gotten anything to hit.

Next up was Elliott, batting for Harry. Elliott had never been much of a hitter, but Derek knew the rules. They said that everyone on the team had to play at least two innings in the field, and bat at least once. It was the same for the Tigers. The rules were the rules, and you went to war with the troops you had left.

Elliott joked around a lot during practices, and even during games. But he was dead serious now. He looked terrified—of the moment, if not the pitcher. He let two strikes go by, hesitating as he started to swing. Then he swung too early at a changeup—and whiffed.

Two outs. Cooling his jets at second, Derek felt the tension rising inside him again. They couldn’t afford to let this rally go by—not with the heart of their order batting!

Ryan was next—one of their best hitters, for sure. Coming through in the clutch, he belted one to deep right that no fielder in the league could have caught! Derek raced around to score the Yankees’ first run. Behind him came Pete, just in time to beat the relay, while Ryan coasted in to third with a stand-up triple!

Tie game—and the Yankees weren’t through yet!

Derek knew he was screaming, but he couldn’t even hear himself, surrounded as he was by the crush of his happy teammates outside the dugout.

Miles came up to bat for JJ—another substitution. Miles had power, even if he did strike out a lot. This time, though, he didn’t need to even swing. The Tigers pitcher, clearly rattled by Ryan’s game-tying blast, had lost the strike zone completely. He plunked the hitter right in the shoulder. Miles jogged down to first, wincing a little as he rubbed his shoulder, and the rally continued.

Derek turned to watch Avery as she entered the batter’s box. It was all on her shoulders now. Could she handle the weight?

The pitcher had already seen what she could do with the bat. On the other hand, he didn’t want to walk her and load the bases.

The count ran full. Then Avery fouled off three straight pitches, before getting the one she wanted, and ripping it into right—for a single that scored the go-ahead run!

The Yankees went crazy while the Tigers and their fans moaned in dismay. Avery was jumping up and down at first, excited beyond belief.

Vijay struck out to end the half inning, but nothing could dampen the Yankees’ spirits now. They’d come from behind late in the game yet again—and now they were just six outs away from pay dirt! All they had to do was hold the Tigers.

But Dave’s team wasn’t 7–2 for nothing. Though down, they were not defeated. And they had the top of their order coming up in the fifth.

Avery got the first out easily enough, with Pete scooping up a two-hopper and throwing on to first in plenty of time.

Things certainly seemed to be going the Yankees’ way. But baseball is a quirky game. Sometimes funny bounces happen. Derek was reminded of this fact when the next hitter cued a ball off the end of the bat. It took a crazy bounce, and wound up as an infield hit.

Okay, no problem, thought Derek. “Let’s get two!” he shouted.

But it wasn’t Avery at second base now—it was Norman.

The next batter hit a sharp grounder right at him, so sharply that Norman ducked, reaching in vain for the ball as it sizzled past him. As a result, the Tigers wound up with men on first and second, bringing the pressure on Avery and the Yankees to a boil.

Derek could see it in her face, and in her body language. He glanced over to the stands, and saw Avery’s mom standing in the back row of the bleachers. She looked like she wanted to run onto the field and rescue her daughter.

He knew Avery might not appreciate it, but he decided to go over and say something to her. Just something to lighten the moment a little. “Hey! That kid Brad is up next. Give him that funky delivery of yours. It’ll mess him right up.”

“What funky delivery?” she asked, distracted from whatever she’d been thinking.

“You know,” said Derek, doing a little imitation with his elbows out like a chicken. “Like you do sometimes on the Hill, for kicks?”

Incredibly, she let out a laugh. “Oh yeah—that one. Good idea.”

Derek went back to short, satisfied that he’d done the right thing. At least he’d given her something else to think about. Something she could do—a surprise she could spring that would put her in the driver’s seat and keep Brad off-balance.

Avery threw out her elbows like a chicken, paused a second at