Free The Catch by Richard Reece Page A

“That’s why it was . . . ”
    â€œThat’s why it was the wrong play. If you miss, we lose. Bailey had the speed to take all four bases if it got by you. If you play the ball off the fence, we’re tied with Bailey on second. You’ve got a good arm—maybe we even have a shot at nailing him there.”
    â€œBut, Wash . . .”—Why couldn’t he see this?—“We won!”
    â€œYeah. We won the lottery.”
    Whatever. I wasn’t about to let Wash bring me down with all that. I was enjoying the moment. Next thing I knew there was a hot girl in a T-shirt that said PEPPERDINE, the Malibu university, across the front, putting a microphone in my face.
    â€œDanny,” she said, “that was incredible. What was going through your mind when that ball was hit?”
    â€œJust, you know, get it,” I said.
    â€œHow did you have the presence of mind to start the double play?”
    The truth is that credit belonged to Sammy. All I was thinking at the time was,
I made the catch
. But I didn’t tell her that. “Well, we’re always coached to keep the situation in mind,” I said, noticing Wash watching from the other end of the dugout.
    â€œHave you thought yet about your baseball future?”
    â€œNah. I’m just thinking about tomorrow’s game.” Another lie. At the moment, I was thinking about PEPPERDINE and also about when I could see video of the catch. And about my dad. I hoped he’d seen the play, and I couldn’t wait to hear his reaction.
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    After we all dressed up the team went to dinner. The Palm is a first-class tournament. The team roomed at a spa, and they always had a huge spread waiting for us at mealtime. I should have felt great, but Wash had spoiled it. I kept chewing on what he had said.
    I filled my plate and looked for Nellie.
    Nelson “Nellie” Carville is our third baseman. He’s more than that, though. Some guys just have the “leader” thing going on, and Nellie’s the guy who has it on our team. That’s why he’s captain.
    There was a space next to him at one of the tables, so I sat down there.
    â€œHey Danny,” he said. “Mad catch!”
    â€œThanks,” I said. “I’m glad you said that.” Then I told him about Wash.
    Nellie listened till I was through, and then he thought a minute. “Don’t let it bring you down,” he said finally. “It was a beautiful thing to see. Now, Wash’s job is to teach us how to play better. Nobody can teach a catch like you made. But Coach was trying to teach you something, right?”
    â€œYeah, I guess he was saying, ‘Think about the situation.’”
    â€œYep. So next time . . . But tonight, enjoy the moment. The team sure is.”
    I felt better. Nellie has that effect on people.
    A minute later my phone buzzed. It was Dad’s number, but when I said, “Yo,” the voice I heard was Sal’s. Sal is my dad’s “associate.” That’s how my dad always introduces him. “This is Sal Ruberto, my associate.” He and my dad have been working together since I was little. I’ve never been sure exactly what they do, but as dad always says, it puts meat on the table.
    â€œHey Danny,” Sal said, “You’re famous! Your dad’s watching that catch on TV. Here, he wants to talk to you.”

CHAPTER 3
    â€œD anny!” I could tell Dad was in a great mood, and I felt as good as I’d felt all day. “Wow, what a play! I must have watched it a dozen times, fast-mo, slow-mo. It’s a thing of beauty, son.”
    I could hear a phone ringing in the background. “Thanks, Dad!”
    Dad asked me to hold a second. He said something to Sal, and then he came back on. “Sorry, Danny, my phone’s been ringing ever since your video came on the news. Ringing with opportunities!”
    â€œYeah? Like