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over at Coach Barrett and offered a thumbs-up.
    â€œI got him, Coach! This is the one.”
    But to Joey’s horror, Coach Barrett called time-out and headed for the mound.
    The coach took long strides. The tilt of his head and the brim of his hat kept his expression hidden from Joey’s view until he reached the mound. Coach Barrett scuffed his feet, and a little cloud of dirt settled on Joey’s cleats. The coach opened his mouth to speak, and Joey prayed for all he was worth not to get pulled.

13
    â€œIt’s okay. You did good.” Coach Barrett’s words shared a smile with his face, but dark clouds rolled across his eyes. “Go take first. Keep your head up.”
    Coach called Zach to the mound. Joey felt sick and jittery. He kept his eyes away from the stands.
    â€œGood effort, Joey. Good effort!” Butch’s words made Joey cringe.
    His pulse finally began to slow as he watched his best friend warm up. The good news was that they could still win this, and he and Zach would be locked into the all-stars. If Zach could put Price down, they’d go into the fourth only behind by two. Price couldn’t have too many more pitches left in his arm either, not the way he’d been throwing that fastball. If Joey got up next inning, maybe he could be the one to hit a grand slam and redeem himself.
    He got into a ready stance and waited. Zach went into his windup and threw a high fastball.
    Price swung.
    Strike one.
    Zach threw the next one low and equally fast. Price went for it.
    Strike two.
    With the bases loaded, Price was going for it all, the grand slam.
    Zach didn’t look nervous in the least. An airplane soared high above, and he stopped to follow it with his head tilted skyward, almost seeming to forget he was playing baseball with the game practically on the line. The plane disappeared. Only then did Zach set his feet and go into his windup.
    Zach’s arm was a blur, a whip that stung. The fastball went right down the middle, a crazy place to put a pitch on an 0–2 count, but it was like Zach had an angel perched on his shoulder telling him what to do.
    Strike three.
    Price pounded the dirt with his bat and tossed his helmet against the dugout wall. The Blue Jays cheered for Zach all the way to the dugout, but Zach told them to save it.
    â€œWe got to win this thing, boys.” Zach’s dark eyes showed just an instant of intensity before the fire went out and he flashed his easygoing smile.
    Whether he was still frustrated at striking out, or his arm was fading, Price started to slow down on the mound. His first pitch to Zach didn’t have the same sauce on it as before, but Zach hit it foul. That’s when Price brought out his curveball. Zach hit two more foul balls before Price tried to bring back the heat and Zach pounded it deep into right field. A fumbled ball by the outfielder and Zach’s lightning speed left him with a triple.
    The next two batters didn’t stand a chance. They swung and missed Price’s curves without coming close. Joey knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help the small smile when Butch Barrett stomped away from the plate and threw his helmet down inside the dugout.
    Joey turned his back on their coach, who was chewing out his son for poor sportsmanship, stepped up to the plate, and took a deep breath. Seeing Zach on third made him itch. If he knocked one out, he could tie the score. That’s what he planned on doing, knocking one out.
    Price licked his lips and went into his windup.

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    Joey recognized the curve, but too late. He swung big and only nicked it foul.
    The next pitch, he was ready for the curve, but Price threw what heat he had. It was low and inside. Joey tried to shift back and swing big again. He pulled it outside the third base line. With an 0–2 count, he had to protect the plate. The next two pitches were close, so he had to swing and they went foul as well. Jittery but still determined, he