The entire group was laughing and cheering, and Scotty had gone from vibrating to bouncing up and down. While he, too, was a lifelong Red Sox fan, something he and Nick had bonded over from the beginning of their friendship, Scotty had become a big fan of the Feds this season. This was especially true since the baseball camp he attended in the District over the summer, at which he’d met the team’s all-star center fielder Willie Vasquez.

Willie was now bent at the waist, staring intently at the action unfolding on the mound as Lind wound up and delivered another pitch that was fouled off. The frenzied energy in the stadium deflated a bit as the ball sailed into the seats near left field. But the roar began anew as Lind wound up, delivering a breaking ball that was again fouled off.

Nick glanced down to find Scotty biting his nails as he stared at the diamond below where the catcher, first baseman and shortstop were conferencing with Lind on the mound.

When he caught Nick watching him, Scotty dropped the hand from his mouth. “This is so stressful.”

“Imagine how the players must feel.”

“I may not be cut out for professional sports.”

The kid was endlessly amusing, which was one of many reasons he and Sam loved him so much. “Well, luckily you have plenty of time to make career decisions, buddy.”

“That’s true.”

When the conference on the mound broke up, Scotty joined the rest of the crowd in clapping and calling out encouragement to Lind.

As the pitcher stared down the batter, Sam’s hand clutched Nick’s arm—tightly.

He glanced over to find her riveted by the action on the field as Lind delivered. The crack of the bat had thousands of people gasping as the batter raced toward first base, beating the shortstop’s throw to the bag.

“It’s okay,” Nick said, resting a hand on Scotty’s shoulder. “It’s only one man on.” He didn’t say that a home run would give the lead to the Giants, because Scotty didn’t need to hear that—and he already knew. To Sam, Nick said, “Um, that’s starting to hurt.”

“Oh, sorry.” She released her grip on his arm, but only slightly.

Scotty was biting nails on both hands as Lind walked the next batter in four pitches, indication that his legendary control had been broken by the unexpected hit. Once again, the catcher, first baseman and shortstop approached the mound, this time with the team’s pitching coach and manager, Bob Minor, in tow.

“I can’t even stand to look,” Scotty said, turning his face into Nick’s chest.

Nick patted Scotty’s back, hoping to provide comfort. “Stay strong, my man. We only need one out.”