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Best of the Best

Tim Green




  Best of the Best

  A Baseball Great Novel

  Tim Green

  For Illyssa, because you really are the best of the best

  Contents

  Chapter One

  A SILENT STORM OF moths, June bugs, and mosquitoes swarmed…

  Chapter Two

  A THREE-FOOT TROPHY STOOD on the floor in the corner…

  Chapter Three

  JOSH’S FATHER TOOK A box of Cheerios from the cupboard…

  Chapter Four

  JOSH’S HEAD SPUN. PART of him felt giddy that the…

  Chapter Five

  “I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING to say to you,” Josh said,…

  Chapter Six

  “WHAT’S WRONG?” JADEN ASKED.

  Chapter Seven

  HIS FATHER’S LUNGS FILLED and emptied like metal tanks. Finally…

  Chapter Eight

  “IS THAT DIANE’S?” JOSH asked before he could contain the…

  Chapter Nine

  “TWENTY-THREE GAMES IN ALL,” Diane said, running her pen down…

  Chapter Ten

  JOSH’S DAD DIDN’T STAY. He went upstairs and came down…

  Chapter Eleven

  JOSH WAS RELIEVED WHEN Jaden and her dad invited him…

  Chapter Twelve

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING here? Who are you?” Josh asked.

  Chapter Thirteen

  JOSH GOT OFF THE bus without waiting for Benji. He…

  Chapter Fourteen

  JOSH KNEW EVEN BEFORE the ball left the pitcher’s hand…

  Chapter Fifteen

  JOSH PULLED ON HIS batting glove and helmet. He warmed…

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE CRACK OF THE bat was like the split of…

  Chapter Seventeen

  JOSH GLANCED BACK AT Benji—wanting to signal to his friend…

  Chapter Eighteen

  “HOOT, HOOT, HOOTENANNY!” BENJI cried as he slowly rose from…

  Chapter Nineteen

  ZAMBONI STUDIED HIM FOR a moment before he said, “I…

  Chapter Twenty

  “NO, COACH,” CAMREN SAID. “I was just telling Josh that…

  Chapter Twenty-One

  SHE DIDN’T TALK ABOUT her troubles, but Josh sensed a…

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “WHERE’S MY MOM?” JOSH asked, knowing that the question would…

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  JOSH PUSHED THE BANANA around into the melted swirl of…

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “HE’S MOVING IN WITH her,” Josh’s mother said.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “SOMETIMES,” JADEN SAID, “WHEN people first meet, everything seems great,…

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  JOSH ONLY HAD TWO days before he had to leave…

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  LAUREL GAVE A PUZZLED look and called for her mommy…

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  JOSH KNEW HE WAS on the floor and he felt…

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  BENJI WENT TO THE dresser and removed his father’s laptop…

  Chapter Thirty

  “WHEN HAVE I HAD a plan that didn’t work?” Benji…

  Chapter Thirty-One

  JOSH COULDN’T HELP FEELING bad for Zamboni. Even after touching…

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “YOU’VE LOST YOUR MIND,” Benji said after listening with intermittent…

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  JOSH AWOKE EARLY THE next morning and hopped up out…

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  THEY WERE DOWN BY two runs and it was the…

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  ZAMBONI TIPPED HIS BATTING helmet to Josh from his spot…

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  THE CRACK OF THE bat and the tremor running through…

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  IT WAS STRANGE TO Josh, rolling his lawn mower down…

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  JADEN MADE HIM NOT only read but also play Duck,…

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  JADEN REMOVED THE CELL phone from her pocket and said,…

  Chapter Forty

  JOSH’S MOUTH DROPPED OPEN.

  Chapter Forty-One

  JOSH STUDIED THE TINY screen, watching for the second time…

  Chapter Forty-Two

  “I CAN’T JUST TAKE him back, Josh,” his mother said.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  JOSH WANDERED THROUGH THE streets in the late afternoon heat,…

  Chapter Forty-Four

  “DAD,” JOSH SAID, HOLDING up the phone. “I don’t want…

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “I’M CERTAINLY NOT GOING to shoot the messenger,” his father…

  Chapter Forty-Six

  HIS FATHER TURNED THE radio off and chuckled, messing up…

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  IN THE FIRST GAME of the regional finals in New…

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  JOSH GOT THERE BEFORE any of his four teammates could…

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  JOSH’S MOUTH FELL OPEN, but no words came out.

  Chapter Fifty

  THE GOOD LUCK JOSH’S mom experienced seemed to spread.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  ZAMBONI CLIMBED UP OFF the ground, looking directly at Josh.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  THE UMPIRE STRAIGHTENED HIS back, his arms extended in front…

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  JOSH LAY IN BED staring at the slanted ceiling close…

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  JOSH’S HANDS SLIPPED FROM the corner of the house and…

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  WHEN JOSH OPENED HIS eyes, his mind whirled, remembering the…

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  “I THOUGHT YOU WEREN’T going to be here until tomorrow,”…

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  “IF I’M RIGHT, ZAMBONI’S dad didn’t make this trip just…

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  JADEN LOOKED PAST ZAMBONI and Josh turned as well to…

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  LATER THAT NIGHT, OUTSIDE the dormitory, beneath a streetlight that…

  Chapter Sixty

  “WE WILL?” JOSH SAID.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  THEY CAME UP THE walkway and Josh clicked the card…

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  RAGE TWISTED RIGHT CROSS’S face.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  JOSH’S FEET TOOK HIM twenty more paces before his brain…

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  RIGHT CROSS WOBBLED AND began to sink toward the ground,…

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  JOSH FLEW PAST A stream of parents leaving the dorms.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  THE DAY BROKE GRAY and gloomy, and maybe that’s why…

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  JOSH WOKE UP IN his own bed, dressed, and stepped…

  About the Author

  Other Books by Tim Green

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER ONE

  A SILENT STORM OF moths, June bugs, and mosquitoes swarmed the powerful light high above Josh and his father. It was a hot, dark night. Heat radiated up from the blacktop surface of the batting cage, warming the bottoms of Josh’s sneakers. The rest of the team had already gone home, but not Josh. Extra work was something he hungered for, especially under his father’s trained eye.

  His father pointed to the knob on the pitching machine that controlled its speed and said, “I think you’re ready for ninety.”

  Josh swallowed. Ninety miles an hour was a fastball you might see in college or even the pros, and even though he stood nearly s
ix feet tall, he was still just twelve. He stepped back and tilted the brim of his batting helmet with a thumb.

  “That scare you?” his father asked. “It’s okay if it does. It should.”

  “A little,” Josh said. “’Cause I won’t see anything like it for five or six years.”

  “Oh, it might be a bit sooner than that,” his father said. “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

  “Could you hit a ninety-mile-an-hour ball when you were twelve?” Josh asked.

  “Me?” his father said, his eyebrows disappearing up under the blue shadow cast by the brim of his hat. “No. I was your size when I was twelve, but I didn’t have your skills. That’s why we do this. I want to make sure you develop everything you’ve got. I want you to go further than me.”

  “You were a first-round pick,” Josh said.

  His father waved an impatient hand and said, “That doesn’t mean anything. It’s about the majors, and I never made it. Relax, I’m okay with it. I’m beginning to think I was cut out for coaching anyway. You, though, you can make it all the way.”

  “You really think so?” Josh asked, not for the first time.

  “I know so,” his father said. “Everyone who sees you knows you’ve got it. Now we have to bring it along. That’s why I want you to try this. Think about it: if you can hit a pitch going ninety, there isn’t a pitcher you’ll see for the rest of the year whose fastest ball won’t look like it’s coming at you in slow motion.”

  Josh nodded and tightened his grip and stepped up to the plate. When the first yellow rubber batting cage ball came at him, Josh didn’t even swing. He had grown used to seeing the pitch leave the machine—or a pitcher’s hand—and being able to read the spin of the ball. This was something else. It was almost like he had blinked, even though he knew he hadn’t.

  His father chuckled. “It’s okay. You’ll get used to it. Watch a few first.”

  Two balls later, Josh clenched his teeth and readied his bat. Plunk went the machine, and the pitch came like a bullet. Josh swung, and nicked it.

  “That’s it,” his father said.

  Josh got a decent piece of the next two.

  “Almost there, Josh,” his father said with real excitement ready to burst from his throat.

  Josh felt the thrill of his father’s praise and the next ball he hammered, driving it past the pitching machine and into the back of the net.

  “Excellent!” his father crowed.

  Josh heard a delicate clapping and turned to see Jaden—one of his two best friends—sitting atop her ten-speed bike, balancing against the outside of the cage with one toe jammed into the space between two fence links. Josh gave her a smile and kept at it. It wasn’t long before Josh was banging them steadily. When the bin of balls stood empty, Josh’s father, a mountain of a man, crossed the space between them and hugged Josh tight.

  “That’s my boy,” his father said, and Josh beamed. “All right, let me see ten bunt steps.”

  “Dad,” Josh said with a groan, “I just hit a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball.”

  “Never forget your basics,” his father said, extending the bat Josh had leaned against the fence. “You never know when you’ll have to bunt. You’ve got to stay sharp, even with the small stuff.”

  “Can you at least pitch some balls at me?”

  “Basics,” his father said. “Footwork is the key.”

  Josh could only nod. He took the bat, stepped up to the plate, and executed the step he’d take across the plate if he were to bunt.

  “Loosen your shoulders just a bit. You’ve got to absorb the energy of the ball. That’s it.”

  Finally Josh finished.

  “Good,” his father said, grinning. “Now let’s go get an ice cream. Jaden? How about you?”

  “Thanks, Mr. LeBlanc,” Jaden said, wiping her brow with the back of one hand.

  Josh stuffed his equipment into his bat bag and shouldered it before following his father out of the cage, where he froze in his tracks. Walking toward them from the parking lot was a woman who was pretty enough to be on TV. She had shoulder-length glossy dark hair and pale blue eyes that sparkled at Josh’s father.

  “Hello,” she said, holding out a hand that Josh’s father took before kissing her cheek.

  Josh’s stomach clenched with the fear of a nightmare coming true.

  The woman glanced at him and said, “This must be your son, Josh.”

  Josh’s father cleared his throat and said, “It is.”

  “So nice to finally meet you,” the woman said, extending a hand that Josh reluctantly shook before watching the woman do the same thing to Jaden.

  “Josh,” his dad said, “this is Diane. She’s the one who’s been showing me all the new houses.”

  “Oh,” Josh said, and he knew the hatred in his eyes must be burning like the flame from a welding torch.

  “And there’s something that just came on the market you’ve got to see,” Diane said. “I think it’ll move right away, and I want you to see it before anyone else.”

  “It’s nine-thirty,” Josh’s dad said.

  “I’ve got friends in high places,” Diane said with a wave of her hand. “Come on, you can’t say no.”

  “To you?” Josh’s dad had a silly grin. “No, I guess I can’t. Josh? You okay walking home with Jaden?”

  Josh wanted to protest, but Jaden spoke up first and said, “We’re fine, Mr. LeBlanc. It’s such a nice night.”

  Josh watched his father go before he turned to Jaden with a scowl.

  “What?” she said. “You didn’t want him to go with her? She seemed nice. What’s wrong?”

  Josh unclenched his teeth and said, “Everything.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  A THREE-FOOT TROPHY STOOD on the floor in the corner of Josh’s tiny bedroom, mocking him. All his life Josh heard coaches say that winning was everything, or the only thing, but right now those words sounded foolish. Because his ceiling was tucked up into the eaves of the old house’s roof, there hadn’t been headroom for the shiny metal prize on his dresser. Josh slipped out of bed, disgusted at the memory of the night before when Diane showed up and things went downhill. He wadded up an old pair of underwear and pitched it at the trophy so that it hung from its golden peak, completely covering the figure of a batter. Josh turned away and began to dress, his mind on his parents, their argument when his father finally got home from house hunting, and how he’d heard the word divorce.

  Josh knew none of it would have happened without the five-year coaching contract his father had signed with Nike. He knew his father wouldn’t have gone to look at new homes in the suburbs without the guaranteed money that came with the Nike deal. Without the contract, his father wouldn’t have met the Realtor named Diane Cross with her white Audi convertible and her voice like a purring cat. Josh had heard his mom call Diane “a shameless tramp” during one of their arguments. Then he heard his father reply that Diane was a nice person and that men were allowed to have women as friends. That made sense to Josh because Jaden Neidermeyer was also a girl.

  But even Josh knew the difference between two seventh graders and an ex-professional baseball player riding around town in a convertible with a pretty woman who was already divorced herself. Josh felt guilty because he had been largely responsible for the Nike deal. The deal—which sponsored the Titans U12 team—had come from beating a Los Angeles team coached by a very famous former baseball player in the Hall of Fame National Championship game. Without Josh’s batting and defense at shortstop, the Titans wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  He brushed his teeth and spit in the sink.

  When Josh tiptoed down the stairs, his heart sank even further. His father was stretched out on the couch, snoring through his open mouth. Josh tried to sneak across the room without waking him, but just as Josh stepped into the kitchen, he heard his father clear his throat. Josh turned. His father sat up, stroking the scruff on his chin. An enormous man with long limbs, Josh’s f
ather had a voice like distant thunder.

  “Josh,” he said, rising so that the blanket fell from him and he stood in boxers and a T-shirt, his legs hairy and thick as tree trunks. “Where you going?”

  “I tried to be quiet,” Josh said. “I’ve got three lawns to cut before batting practice.”

  “That’s okay,” his father said. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  The tone of his father’s voice made Josh afraid to ask what it was he wanted to talk about, so Josh only said, “I heard you talking when you came home last night, Dad. I wasn’t listening, but I heard you from my room, so I know what this is about.”

  His father sighed and hung his head, scratching the back of his neck before he looked up at Josh with puffy red eyes.

  “Josh,” he said, “sometimes opportunities pop up like—I don’t know, like targets in a shooting gallery. If you want to win the prize, you’ve got to take your shots.”

  Josh shook his head.

  “Here,” his father said, guiding him into the kitchen and pulling out a chair so Josh could sit down. “You sit. I’ll get you some cereal. I know this is going to be hard for you to understand, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot, Josh, and I want you to listen with an open mind. Can you do that?”

  Josh bit his lower lip and nodded his head.