Dan shook his head as if trying to clear cobwebs from between his hears. “So what are you talking about, then? What tryout?”

  “Oh, Danny Boy! Stop being so coy. Harry loved what he saw this morning, and what he’s heard from me over the last few months. He wants you to come to Cincinnati, to the stadium on Saturday evening. The Reds are having an open tryout for undrafted free agents, and he thinks you should be part of that group.”

  Dan couldn’t believe it. “You’re joking!”

  Croft held up his scout’s-honor fingers and said, “No, son, I’m not. Harry said you’re in the top 10% of hitters he’s looked at this spring, and not far behind in the field. There’s going to be a handful of Reds’ scouts at the open call plus some minor league coaches and instructors. Harry will even throw breakfast into the deal if you stay in the city overnight. And, rumor has it Howsam might walk through if he can pull himself away from his desk for a while.”

  “Bob Howsam?” Dan marveled.

  “That’s the one!” Croft said. “So, what do you say, Dan: wanna go to the Riverfront this weekend?”

  Dan nodded vigorously, forgetting all his cares. “More than anything!”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Cold Water

  Dan was bursting with excitement when he left Gabbie and Troy after a quick lunch at McDonald’s. He hadn’t told his girlfriend about the encounter with Harry that morning or the scout’s invitation to come to Cincinnati the following weekend, but he had been bouncing in his seat throughout the meal. Gabbie gave him a questioning look a couple of times and seemed as if she were going to comment on his behavior, but both times, baby Troy got fussy and pulled her attention away.

  Dan was happy for the diversion because he didn’t know how he would have deflected Gabbie’s questions. After all, he wasn’t sure he’d be going to Cincy on Saturday, and even if he did, it was a tremendous long shot he’d turn any heads, especially among a crowd of young, talented athletes who had played more than a few company-league games in the last year. It was better to hold his news close to the vest, at least for the moment.

  But as soon as Dan walked into the office and saw his father, his stomach tumbled, and the excitement from his session with Foster came flooding back to him.

  “How did your morning go?” David asked, looking up from a stack of papers he had been pouring over. When he caught the glint in son’s eye, David knew something was up.

  He lay the papers flat on the desk and broke into a grin, standing to motion Dan over to a chair in front of David’s desk.

  “Oooo … I can see that you really DO have something to say, son,” David said. “Why don’t you have a seat and tell Daddy all about it?”

  Dan knew his father was teasing him a little, but he didn’t mind. They’d always had an easy and open dialog, and Dan was grateful to have his father as a trusted confidant. He took two steps toward David’s desk and then stopped, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

  “Well, Dad, I don’t know if I can sit down right now,” Dan said. “The morning went really well …”

  As Dan told his father about the surprise of meeting with Harry Foster and the even bigger surprise of being invited to a walk-on tryout at Riverfront Stadium, he could see the older man’s expression move from interest to elation to thoughtful concern.

  “What’s wrong?” Dan asked when he had finished his story. “Don’t you think I should go to the tryout?”

  “I think it sounds like a tremendous opportunity, Dan, and I know it’s something you’ve wanted since you were a little boy,” David said with hesitancy.

  “But?” Dan prodded.

  “But, I’m concerned about your health. Didn’t Dr. Parks and Dr. Eisenflower tell you to rest as much as possible and avoid any long trips? I’m just worried about your well-being.”

  Now it was Dan’s turn to look pensive. “I thought of that, Dad, and maybe you could help me.”

  David raised his eyebrows. “You know I’m always here for you, son. What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, if you were to drive me down to Cincinnati, I could sleep on the way there and back. And we’d be staying in a hotel overnight, so I shouldn’t miss any sleep on Saturday. Besides, it would be another trip together,” Dan smiled at his father. “Wouldn’t that be great?”

  David grinned and nodded his head. “Yes, that would be wonderful, Dan,” he said. “But what about the team?”

  “What team?” Dan asked, confused.

  “You know, the team you’re supposed to be helping to coach?” David prodded.

  Dan’s eyes grew large. Of course! How could he forget why he had been at the field that morning in the first place? Coach Croft had asked him in mid-May if he would like to serve as a sort of informal hitting coach for the Eagles during the stretch run of the season and into the playoffs. It was an arrangement which let Dan stay connected to the game and which had ramped up South Pickens’ offense, as the Eagles were scoring about three runs per game before Dan stepped in and nearly six since he had started coming around.

  Tuesday morning’s practice had been abbreviated because sectionals were set to start that night, with the Eagles traveling to Addison for a six-o’-clock first pitch against White Water. If they won that game, round two would be on Thursday, followed by the sectional championship on the Bulldogs’ home field Saturday evening — hopefully.

  If South Pickens made it that far, they would take the field the same time as the tryouts in Cincinnati, which of course meant Dan could not be both places. And he had already promised coach Croft he’d be in the dugout for as long as the Eagles were still playing.

  “Oh, man, I can’t believe I forgot about the sectionals!” Dan said, slapping his forehead with an open palm. “I feel like a real heel for the way I acted this morning with Coach Croft. I just said I’d go to Cincinnati and didn’t even think about South Pick’s game. I guess I’d better call and apologize to him.”

  David patted his son on the shoulder. “Why don’t you wait until you see him this evening, Dan?” David counseled. “He’s probably busy with preparations this afternoon, anyway, and that will give you some time to think.”

  “Think about what, Dad?” Dan asked rhetorically. “I gave my word, so I need to keep my obligation.”

  David nodded and squeezed Dan’s shoulder.

  “That’s right, and it’s what I would have expected you to say. Still, there is no guarantee South Pickens will make it all the way to the championship game.” David pursed his lips, thinking. “Say, I wonder if this Foster character would let you come on the condition that the Eagles aren’t playing. I mean, what would he have to lose, really?”

  Dan nodded.

  “That’s right, Dad,” he said. “He doesn’t have anything to lose. I’ll talk to Coach Croft about it this evening.”

  —

  “No doubt,” Croft said. “Harry doesn’t have a damn thing to lose by letting you show up according to your own whim. But you know what?”

  Croft grabbed Dan by the shoulders and peered straight into the young man’s eyes. “He doesn’t have a damn thing to lose by just cutting you loose, either. You know how many guys would kill for this chance? You know how many will be there on Saturday?”

  “A lot,” Dan answered the rhetorical question in a quiet voice.

  “Damn right, there’s a lot,” Croft said.

  Dan was feeling small: he had never seen Coach this angry.

  “But Coach,” Dan said despite his reservations, “I can’t bail on these guys. Haven’t they been hitting better since I started helping out?”

  Croft nodded and replied, “You bet your bippy, they have, Dan. But this is about YOU and your future.”

  The big man took in a big breath and then sighed, the tension flowing out through his mouth and relaxing his rounded shoulders.

  “Look, Dan,” Croft continued, “you’re the most talented player I’ve ever coached, and you’re one of the best high school players I’ve ever seen. I really think you could have a chance to play professional ball. Isn’t that what you want?”

  “Yes, but …”

  “But nothing, Dan,” Croft held up a firm hand. “You’re going to Cincinnati, and you’re going to call Harry right now to tell him the good news.”

  “But,” Dan wasn’t ready to let the matter drop, “if we make it to the sectional championship game, you’re going to need me there.”

  “It’s too late for that, Dan,” Croft said.

  Dan was confused. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “You wouldn’t be allowed in the dugout, anyway.”

  “Why not? I thought the plan all along was for me to help the team for as long as they’re playing.”

  “And you will, Dan,” Croft explained, “just not in the dugout. I’ve already turned in my post-season access list to the IHSAA, and your name is not on it.”

  “But Coach!” Dan whined.

  “Cry about it all you want, but there’s no changing it now,” Croft said. “Rosters and access lists were due at the regional office, and I hand-delivered ours a couple of hours ago.”

  The news stung Dan, and his eyes watered, but he didn’t want to actually cry in front of Coach.

  “Come on, Coach!” Dan went on, voice shaky. “Isn’t there something you can do?”

  “About you being banned from the dugout? Afraid not,” Croft answered. “But I can still offer you this.”

  Croft held out a slip of paper with what looked like a phone number scrawled on it.

  “Phone’s in my office,” he said. “You still remember where that is, don’t you?”

  Dan nodded.

  “Well, go on, then,” Croft directed. “The door’s unlocked.”

  The coach pointed toward the school building, and Dan turned to walk toward the side door, stunned. When he reached the overhang next to the back hallway, he looked back to the coach, who was still standing near his pickup.

  “Thanks, Coach!” Dan called before disappearing inside to make his call.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Home Run Trot

  After he talked to Harry Foster and confirmed he would indeed be in Cincinnati that weekend, Dan disconnected the call and dialed his dad’s number at HBM. David had returned to work, as usual, after dropping Dan off, and he picked up on the third ring.

  “Good evening, you’ve reached HBM Ferncastle. This is David speaking … how may I help you?” David answered in a very official voice.

  Dan guffawed. “Sheesh, Dad, don’t you ever drop the formal treatment? I mean, come on, it’s almost game time, after all?”

  David exhaled before answering, “You’re a real card, buddy boy. What’s up?”

  David listened as Dan filled in the details of his conversation with Croft and asked if David could drive him to the game that night. Coach might still drive him, but Dan wasn’t sure it would be proper since he had been stricken from the access list. He didn’t want to get the coach in trouble, and he sure didn’t want to jeopardize the Eagles’ season in any sort of way.

  David agreed, but said he needed to work for another half an hour or so. If Dan didn’t mind waiting, David would pick him up a little after 6, and they would get to the game before 7. They might miss a few minutes but would catch most of the action. With little choice and still feeling stunned by the day’s events, Dan said that would be fine.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Dan said.

  “It’s what I do, Dan,” David told him. “I’m a dad.”

  —

  By the time David pulled into the South Pickens lot, Dan had long since made his way back outside to tell Croft goodbye and wish him luck that night.

  “Really wish I could be part of this,” Dan said.

  “I know, Dan,” Croft said, “but you have to understand why I did this, right?”

  Dan nodded.

  “Besides, you ARE part of this. You were working with the team just this morning in batting practice and I can tell you for sure that if our offense tanks tonight, I’m blaming you!”

  Dan had been staring at the asphalt, but at Croft’s words snapped his head upwards just in time to see the coach break into a grin. Dan returned the smile and delivered his own dig: “That’s good, because when we win big tonight, I’m going to write a letter to Principal Stetson telling how happy I am that I was able to help!”

  The two men said their goodbyes and Dan watched the shiny blue Ford roar down Highway 40 until it disappeared from sight beyond a grove of trees.

  —

  Thirty minutes later, Dan was in the middle of his fifth slow jog around the diamond when he saw his dad’s pickup truck pull into the back entrance to the school lot. When Coach Croft left him, Dan began to feel the fatigue the day’s excitement had masked, and he nearly dozed off leaning against the backstop. A car horn on one of the major roads passing by the school snapped him out of his daze, and Dan decided he wasn’t ready to let his condition overtake him.

  Not on that night. Not yet.

  So Dan had walked from home plate to first base, just to clear his head and to move around a bit. When his foot touched the bag, a bolt of electricity shot of up his leg, and Dan sprinted for second, gazing deep into center field, imagining a young Willie Mays tracking down a drive toward the fence. In his mind, “Say Hey” jumped and stretched out to the full extent of his lithe body, like a thoroughbred lunging for the finish line at the Kentucky Derby. For just a moment, Dan was sure he saw a real baseball disappear into the green canopy which stood between the diamond and the bus barn, and he hopped with a whoop as he rounded second base, thrusting his arm into the air.

  Home run!

  Dan slowed to a swaggering trot when he touched third, then headed for home where his imaginary teammates were waiting to lift him on their shoulders. In the stands, phantom fans screamed Dan’s name and begged for more from their hero. When he crossed the plate, he stopped and doffed his cap, a gesture which resembled a salute since he wasn’t wearing a hat.

  Remembering the scene from Hank Aaron’s celebration in Cincinnati, and especially the one in Atlanta a few days later, Dan kept his left arm extended and jogged toward the stands on the first-base side of the field, then ran along what would have been the fence line had he been inside a stadium with an enclosed field. Past the open expanse that bled from right field into the grass in front of the on-site sewage treatment plant, around the horn in center, under the chilling shadow’s of the football bleachers in left, and looping back to home, Dan made his slow swooping circuit.

  One time, two times, three times, before he began to lose track of how many laps he had run, and then, of why he was running the laps. With every step, Dan grew colder and less energetic, and, when David finally pulled to a stop in the gravel behind the backstop, Dan was sure of one thing: he was not well, and he was getting worse all the time.

  Even from a distance, David must have noticed something was not right, because he bolted from his driver’s seat and ran out to meet his son at second base. Dan fell forward into his father’s arms, sobbing. David pulled him close and squeezed him tight. David wasn’t sure what was happening with Dan, but it didn’t matter. His boy was in pain, and it was a dad’s duty to make things better, no matter how old his child might be.

  “It’s OK, Dan,” David whispered in the boy’s ear, smoothing his ruffled black hair with a strong, steady hand. “It’s OK, son. Let’s go home, what do you say?”

  Dan nodded, but pushed away from his father, shaking his head. “No, Dad,” he said. Then, with more force, “No! I have to go the game tonight.”