Joey Pigza Loses Control

Free Joey Pigza Loses Control by Jack Gantos

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Authors: Jack Gantos
squatted down and pointed to a red line that looked like a tiny railroad track. “This is where she
beaned me,” he said. “And now that I think of it, I bet you got your good arm from her.”
    Â 
    As soon as we were in the car Dad started talking. It was like he couldn’t stand to have anything moving faster than his mouth. “You know, Joey, all morning I been over at Storybook Land,” Dad said as he lit up a cigarette. “I went over to see ol’ Humpty Dumpty and do some solid thinking . Humpty didn’t let me down. Here’s what I came up with. In life you gotta have a goal. Big ones or small ones, I don’t care what size. Just have a goal and right now we have the same goal—Joey, I know you want to know me better and I want to know you better. This is the whole reason why you are here this summer. But, we can’t share my past. And when you leave here and return to your mom, I won’t be there to share your future. But right now—this summer—you and me—this is the time for us. We can win this baseball championship and long after you are gone I can think of this time and how my boy and me were the biggest winners on the field. This is our goal, Joey—to be champions together. This is what I’ve been thinking about all morning. And who knows, maybe next year you can come back and we can do it all over again. But one thing at a time. Let’s be winners now. What do you say?”
    I just looked over at him and I had tears in my eyes because it was something I wanted to hear in the
worst way. And as I stared at him he reached out and put his hand on mine and I could feel it shaking and before long mine began to shake too.
    â€œLet’s do it,” I said. “Let’s be the champs.”
    â€œRight on,” he said.
    â€œBut I’m gonna need help,” I said. “I really don’t know what I’m doing.”
    â€œDon’t sweat it,” he said. “Remember, you are the caveman with the rock. That’s all you need to know. Now listen to this. Leezy and I were working on the lineup and we both decided you were our number-one pitcher. We were talking strategy. First we gotta beat Ritter’s Diner tonight. Then we gotta beat Emerson Real Estate, then take the semifinals, then knock off whoever is in the other PAL field for the North Side Championship.”
    â€œDo I have to pitch every game?” I asked.
    â€œYeah, Joey,” he said. “Otherwise we don’t stand a chance. But I’m excusing you from practices. I don’t want you wearing out your arm.”
    â€œHey, Dad,” I said, “can you make sure Grandma and Pablo come to the game and that Pablo wears his jersey? He’s my good-luck charm.”
    â€œWill it make you pitch better?” Dad asked.
    â€œYeah,” I said.
    â€œNo problem,” he promised. “When you take the mound they’ll be in the stands. Scout’s honor. I’ll have Leezy get them.”
    I smiled. I wanted Pablo to watch me win.

7
    MY GAME
    The good feeling between Dad and me didn’t last much beyond the first inning. As soon as the game against Ritter’s Diner started it went in two directions at once. There was my game, and there was Dad’s game. My game was calm, his was not. First, like Dad said, the caveman with the rock rules. And I had the rock. I know I told Mom I liked baseball, but not all of it. I only liked the pitching part, which to me was still like throwing rocks at targets in the back yard, except with a baseball game there were a lot of other people standing around staring at me, which I didn’t like because all those eyes made me itchy and nervous.
    I loved being on the mound. I thought of it as a giant patch under my feet. As long as I was standing on it I was fine. But when I stepped off, the whole world would spin around like a top.

    That’s why I never covered first on a grounder to

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