Change-Up: Mystery at the World Series

Playing in the World Series is every ballplayer’s dream, but no one is more surprised to actually be here than Norbert Doyle–a late call-up for an underdog team.
Doyle pitched in the minor leagues for years before making it to the bigs. He went to school in the off-season to earn his degree. He raised two kids on his own after the tragic death of his wife. And now he’s slated to start game two of the World Series. His feel-good story is a media gold mine. And teen reporters Stevie Thomas and Susan Carol Anderson have scored the first in-depth interview with him.
At first they’re as charmed by Doyle as everyone else–it’s hard not to root for this guy. But the more Stevie and Susan Carol learn about him, the more conflicting stories they hear. And so Stevie becomes an investigative reporter by day while covering the World Series by night, trying to piece together the truth of one athlete’s life. But along the way he has to wonder–who will be hurt if the truth is known, and who will benefit, and what does it have to do with baseball? There are a million secrets in any locker room. Which ones need to be told
  • NOMINEE
    ALA Popular Paperbacks for Young Adults
  • NOMINEE
    Missouri Mark Twain Award
1: SUDDEN VICTORY    

Even though he was only fourteen years old, Stevie Thomas considered himself a veteran of sports victory celebrations. He had been to the Final Four, the Super Bowl, the NBA Finals, and the U.S. Open--in both tennis and golf. He had seen remarkable endings,miracle shots, and improbable last-second heroics.   But he hadn't seen anything quite like this. He was standing just outside the first-base dugout inside Nationals Park, the home stadium for the Washington Nationals, and even though the game had been over for several minutes, the noise was still so loud he couldn't hear anything Susan Carol Anderson was shouting in his ear.  

"Mets . . . clubhouse . . . press box . . . ," he managed to make out over the din. Since she was starting to pick her way through the celebrating Nationals and the media swarm surrounding them, he guessed that she had told him that she was going to make her way to the clubhouse of the New York Mets and then meet him back in the press box. She was taking the harder job--talking to the players on a team that had just suffered a shocking defeat. His job was easier: talking to the winners.  

The ending of the game had been stunning. With the National League Championship Series tied at three games all, both teams had sent their star pitchers out to pitch game seven: Johan Santana for the Mets, John Lannan for the Nationals. Both had pitched superbly, and the game had gone to the ninth inning tied at 1-1.  

Nationals manager Manny Acta brought Joel Hanrahan, his closer, in to pitch the ninth, a bold move in a tie game. And it seemed to have backfired when Carlos Beltran hit a two-out, two-run home run to give the Mets a 3-1 lead. In came the Mets' closer, Francisco (K-Rod) Rodriguez, to get the last three outs needed to give the Mets the pennant.   He got two quick outs, and it wasn't looking good for the Nats when shortstop Cristian Guzman hit a weak ground ball. But somehow Mets all-star shortstop Jose Reyes booted it, allowing Guzman to make it safely to first base. Clearly upset and distracted by the error, Rodriguez then walked Ronnie Belliard, bringing Ryan Zimmerman, the Nationals' best hitter, to the plate.  

Guzman began dancing off second base, stretching his lead each time Rodriguez looked back at him. Second baseman Luis Castillo kept flashing toward the bag, as if expecting a pickoff throw from Rodriguez. Sitting in the auxiliary press box, Stevie was wearing headphones that allowed him to hear the Fox telecast.  

"Rodriguez and Castillo need to forget about Guzman," he heard Tim McCarver say. "Right now K-Rod has one job, and that's to get Zimmerman out."  

"But if the Nats double-steal, the tying runs would both be in scoring position," play-by-play man Joe Buck said.  

"True," McCarver said. "But I'm telling you, there is no way Guzman is risking making the last out of the season trying to steal third. He's not that much of a base stealer to begin with."  

Rodriguez finally focused on the plate and threw a 97-mph fastball that Zimmerman just watched go by for strike one. Again Guzman danced off second base. This time Rodriguez whirled and did make a pickoff throw as Castillo darted in to take it. Guzmandove back in safely.  

"That tells me Guzman has gotten inside K-Rod's head," McCarver said. "You don't risk a pickoff throw in this situation. The only man in the ballpark he should care about right now is Zimmerman."  

Rodriguez threw another fastball, and Zimmerman fouled it straight back to the screen.  

"That one was ninety-seven too," Buck said. "He doesn't seem too distracted."  

"Zimmerman was about two inches from crushing that ball," McCarver said. "You see a batter foul a fastball straight back like that, it means he just missed it."  

Rodriguez came to his set position again. Guzman was off the bag once more and Rodriguez stepped off the rubber. Everyone relaxed for a moment.  

"Zimmerman has to look for a fastball here, doesn't he?" Buck said.  

"Absolutely."   Rodriguez set again, checked Guzman one more time, and threw. Stevie glanced at the spot on the scoreboard that showed pitch speed, and saw 98. Rodriguez had thrown a fastball, and Zimmerman had in fact been looking fastball. This time he didn't miss it. He got it. He got all of it. The ball rose majestically into the air and sailed in the direction of the left-field fence. Mets left fielder Daniel Murphy never moved. The ball sailed way over the fence, deep into the night, and complete bedlam broke out in every corner of the stadium. The Nationals had won the game 4-3 and the series 4-3. Shockingly, they were going to the World Series.

About

Playing in the World Series is every ballplayer’s dream, but no one is more surprised to actually be here than Norbert Doyle–a late call-up for an underdog team.
Doyle pitched in the minor leagues for years before making it to the bigs. He went to school in the off-season to earn his degree. He raised two kids on his own after the tragic death of his wife. And now he’s slated to start game two of the World Series. His feel-good story is a media gold mine. And teen reporters Stevie Thomas and Susan Carol Anderson have scored the first in-depth interview with him.
At first they’re as charmed by Doyle as everyone else–it’s hard not to root for this guy. But the more Stevie and Susan Carol learn about him, the more conflicting stories they hear. And so Stevie becomes an investigative reporter by day while covering the World Series by night, trying to piece together the truth of one athlete’s life. But along the way he has to wonder–who will be hurt if the truth is known, and who will benefit, and what does it have to do with baseball? There are a million secrets in any locker room. Which ones need to be told

Awards

  • NOMINEE
    ALA Popular Paperbacks for Young Adults
  • NOMINEE
    Missouri Mark Twain Award

Excerpt

1: SUDDEN VICTORY    

Even though he was only fourteen years old, Stevie Thomas considered himself a veteran of sports victory celebrations. He had been to the Final Four, the Super Bowl, the NBA Finals, and the U.S. Open--in both tennis and golf. He had seen remarkable endings,miracle shots, and improbable last-second heroics.   But he hadn't seen anything quite like this. He was standing just outside the first-base dugout inside Nationals Park, the home stadium for the Washington Nationals, and even though the game had been over for several minutes, the noise was still so loud he couldn't hear anything Susan Carol Anderson was shouting in his ear.  

"Mets . . . clubhouse . . . press box . . . ," he managed to make out over the din. Since she was starting to pick her way through the celebrating Nationals and the media swarm surrounding them, he guessed that she had told him that she was going to make her way to the clubhouse of the New York Mets and then meet him back in the press box. She was taking the harder job--talking to the players on a team that had just suffered a shocking defeat. His job was easier: talking to the winners.  

The ending of the game had been stunning. With the National League Championship Series tied at three games all, both teams had sent their star pitchers out to pitch game seven: Johan Santana for the Mets, John Lannan for the Nationals. Both had pitched superbly, and the game had gone to the ninth inning tied at 1-1.  

Nationals manager Manny Acta brought Joel Hanrahan, his closer, in to pitch the ninth, a bold move in a tie game. And it seemed to have backfired when Carlos Beltran hit a two-out, two-run home run to give the Mets a 3-1 lead. In came the Mets' closer, Francisco (K-Rod) Rodriguez, to get the last three outs needed to give the Mets the pennant.   He got two quick outs, and it wasn't looking good for the Nats when shortstop Cristian Guzman hit a weak ground ball. But somehow Mets all-star shortstop Jose Reyes booted it, allowing Guzman to make it safely to first base. Clearly upset and distracted by the error, Rodriguez then walked Ronnie Belliard, bringing Ryan Zimmerman, the Nationals' best hitter, to the plate.  

Guzman began dancing off second base, stretching his lead each time Rodriguez looked back at him. Second baseman Luis Castillo kept flashing toward the bag, as if expecting a pickoff throw from Rodriguez. Sitting in the auxiliary press box, Stevie was wearing headphones that allowed him to hear the Fox telecast.  

"Rodriguez and Castillo need to forget about Guzman," he heard Tim McCarver say. "Right now K-Rod has one job, and that's to get Zimmerman out."  

"But if the Nats double-steal, the tying runs would both be in scoring position," play-by-play man Joe Buck said.  

"True," McCarver said. "But I'm telling you, there is no way Guzman is risking making the last out of the season trying to steal third. He's not that much of a base stealer to begin with."  

Rodriguez finally focused on the plate and threw a 97-mph fastball that Zimmerman just watched go by for strike one. Again Guzman danced off second base. This time Rodriguez whirled and did make a pickoff throw as Castillo darted in to take it. Guzmandove back in safely.  

"That tells me Guzman has gotten inside K-Rod's head," McCarver said. "You don't risk a pickoff throw in this situation. The only man in the ballpark he should care about right now is Zimmerman."  

Rodriguez threw another fastball, and Zimmerman fouled it straight back to the screen.  

"That one was ninety-seven too," Buck said. "He doesn't seem too distracted."  

"Zimmerman was about two inches from crushing that ball," McCarver said. "You see a batter foul a fastball straight back like that, it means he just missed it."  

Rodriguez came to his set position again. Guzman was off the bag once more and Rodriguez stepped off the rubber. Everyone relaxed for a moment.  

"Zimmerman has to look for a fastball here, doesn't he?" Buck said.  

"Absolutely."   Rodriguez set again, checked Guzman one more time, and threw. Stevie glanced at the spot on the scoreboard that showed pitch speed, and saw 98. Rodriguez had thrown a fastball, and Zimmerman had in fact been looking fastball. This time he didn't miss it. He got it. He got all of it. The ball rose majestically into the air and sailed in the direction of the left-field fence. Mets left fielder Daniel Murphy never moved. The ball sailed way over the fence, deep into the night, and complete bedlam broke out in every corner of the stadium. The Nationals had won the game 4-3 and the series 4-3. Shockingly, they were going to the World Series.