Hit & Miss (Jeter Publishing, Band 2) - Softcover

Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

Derek Jeter is a fourteen-time All-Star and five-time World Series winner who has played for one team—the storied New York Yankees—for all twenty seasons of his major league career. His grace and class on and off the field have made him an icon and role model far beyond the world of baseball.

Paul Mantell is the author of more than 100 books for young readers, including books in the Hardy Boys and Matt Christopher series.

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Hit & Miss

Chapter One

SEASON OF HOPE

“Derek!”

Derek threw down his pencil. He’d been doing his homework, even though it was only Saturday morning. Running to the top of the stairs, he looked down to see his father in the living room, holding a basketball.

“Almost finished, Dad. Just one more math problem.” The rule in Derek’s house was, you had to finish your homework before you were allowed to go play. It was right there in his contract with his parents, the one he’d signed the year before. He hadn’t looked at it lately—his dad kept the original safe in his bedroom drawer—but Derek was pretty sure he remembered it all by heart.

“Perfect,” his dad said. “I just finished one of my homework assignments for this weekend too.” He wasn’t kidding. Charles Jeter was in his final year of classes at Western Michigan University, studying for a master’s degree. His dream was to be a counselor for kids at risk, and Derek knew that meant a lot to his father, but being with his own kids was just as important to Derek’s dad.

Derek could hardly wait. Basketball was fun, and he was proud of his progress over the winter. This was his chance to show his dad just how much better he’d gotten.

But the truth was, Derek’s mind wasn’t on basketball, and it wasn’t on homework, either. Because today—this afternoon—was the start of the Little League baseball season. In fact, this afternoon was his first practice!

To Derek, no other sport was as important as baseball. His life’s goal was to be the starting shortstop for the New York Yankees. He only hoped he still remembered how to hit, after the offseason.

For six months a year there wasn’t much baseball being played in Kalamazoo, Michigan, where long snowy winters were the rule. His dad had taken him to the batting cages twice in the past two weeks, but it was still so cold out that every time Derek hit the ball, his hands stung.

“I thought you wanted to show me your new jump shot,” his dad called after him with a little laugh. “You’d better get that math problem figured out.”

Derek didn’t take the time to answer. He went back to his desk, sat down, and concentrated, long enough to finish his homework and tie his sneakers. Then he raced downstairs to follow his dad, mom, and sister, Sharlee, out the door. They all piled into the family station wagon, and drove off to the university’s outdoor basketball courts for a thrill-packed game of H-O-R-S-E!

Sharlee loved to be a part of their games, even if she was too little to put the ball into the basket without someone holding her up. Her usual job was ball-hawk, retrieving the balls that got away and bringing them back to the players.

Meanwhile, Mom did the scorekeeping, just to make sure there was no confusion or disagreement. She worked full-time as an accountant for a company, and she’d taught Derek to love math.

Derek was eager to show his family what he could do on the basketball court. He even dared to hope he would beat his dad at H-O-R-S-E, though he knew that wasn’t likely. His dad was a really good athlete, and he was just as competitive as Derek.

Derek sometimes got frustrated when he lost, as he always seemed to. But he knew his dad would never lose on purpose just to make Derek happy. Derek didn’t want to win that way anyhow. It wouldn’t feel like winning, really. Every time he lost to his dad, it just made him want to work harder, so he could beat him the next time, or the time after that—or at least someday.

“Okay, you go first, Derek,” his dad said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Derek dribbled a couple of times, drove to the basket, did a 360-degree turn in midair, and sank the layup off the backboard. Then he turned to wink at Sharlee.

“Whoa!” his mom shouted. “Nice.”

“Yay, Derek!” Sharlee yelled, giggling as she went to get the ball.

“Hey, now,” Mr. Jeter laughed. “No playing favorites. Give me that ball, Sharlee. Here, old man. Let me show you how it’s done.”

He drove to the basket and easily made the same shot Derek had. Sharlee and Mrs. Jeter applauded, but not half as hard as for Derek.

“Okay. What else have you got?” he asked Derek.

This time Derek dribbled between his legs, pulled up, and sank a fifteen-foot jumper.

“All right, all right,” Mr. Jeter said, nodding as Sharlee and Derek’s mom whooped and hollered. He tried the between-the-legs move but got caught up and tangled, and the shot wasn’t even close.

“That’s H for you,” Mrs. Jeter announced, pointing to her husband.

Derek made a move, froze, and sprung into the air, letting a shot fly. The ball swished right through the net. His dad’s imitation came close but clanged off the rim and out.

“H-O,” Mrs. Jeter called out. “Amazing, Derek!”

“Nice shot,” said his dad. “I’ve got to hand it to you. You’re looking good there. Let’s see if you can make that same one again.”

Egged on by his dad, Derek took up the challenge. It was a long and difficult shot, but he’d learned to do it almost with his eyes closed. He lined it up, lifted off—but just as he was about to let it fly, Sharlee yelled, “Derek’s gonna win!”

Her cry startled him, throwing his shot off by just enough for it to miss the rim. Derek groaned in frustration, but he didn’t blame it on Sharlee. He knew she was only five and couldn’t contain her excitement sometimes.

Now it was Mr. Jeter’s turn. He did a double-fake quick drive to the basket, and then sank the layup from the far side with his left hand.

Derek gritted his teeth. He’d never made that shot yet. But he was determined to this time. Sharlee handed him the ball, and he made the double move—but lost control of the ball.

“Bzzzz!” his dad said, mimicking the buzzer.

“H-O to H,” said Mrs. Jeter. “Getting interesting here.”

Soon the game was tied, and then Derek fell behind by one letter. But Derek took advantage of a miss by his dad to throw in a hook shot from fifteen feet. Mr. Jeter couldn’t match that one, and the game was tied again at H-O-R.

Suddenly Sharlee said, “Daddy, I want to shoot now.”

“I know, Sharlee, but the game’s not over yet,” Mr. Jeter said. “When we’re done, it’ll be your turn.”

“But I wanna shoot the ball!” Sharlee had a pretty good shot for a five-year-old, even if you did have to hold her up near the hoop. In fact, she was a really good overall athlete for her age.

It must be hard for her to watch other people play and not be part of it, Derek realized. Just then he saw his buddy Vijay riding by the courts on his bike. “It’s okay, Dad,” he said. “Let Sharlee shoot now. We’ll take a time-out for a couple minutes.”

Mr. Jeter saw Vijay, shrugged, and nodded. He bent down so that Sharlee could leap into his arms and take some shots. Mrs. Jeter got up and handed her the ball, while Derek turned and yelled, “Hey, Vij!” waving to get his friend’s attention.

Vijay slowed his bike and...