John Feinstein - Change-up - Mystery at the World Series

Felkoff stared at the two of them for a moment. “So you’re willing to put your paper’s reputation on the line based on the reporting of a fourteen-year-old?” he said. “I’m betting Wyn Watkins won’t be quite so confident about that when I call him in the morning.”

Wyn Watkins was the executive editor of the Herald. He had almost pulled the story Stevie and Susan Carol had written accusing the owner of the California Dreams of covering up steroid use by his players on the eve of the Super Bowl. But he hadn’t, and the story had been proven completely true.

“Go ahead and make the call,” Kelleher said. “Watkins has put his faith in Stevie on a page-one story before, and it paid off. I doubt you’ll have much luck, but please, be my guest and call him.”

Felkoff was red in the face. “How can you print this now ? He may be pitching game seven of the World Series tomorrow night. You expect him to talk to you on the day he pitches game seven? Are you crazy?”

“He could have talked to us on the off day or today,” Stevie said, jumping in. “Instead he spent the time spreading lies about me and refusing our calls. So don’t blame us if the timing doesn’t suit you guys.”

“Was I talking to you, kid?” Felkoff said.

“You better talk to him,” Kelleher said. “It’s his story.”

Felkoff paced around in a circle for a few seconds. Stevie started to say something else, but Kelleher put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“Okay,” Felkoff said. “Here’s the deal. You come to my Boston office at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning and I’ll have Norbert there.”

Kelleher shook his head. “No way we’re doing this on your terms or in your office. There’s a small park on the back side of the Marriott Long Wharf. It’s never very crowded. You guys meet us there at nine o’clock in the morning.”

“Nine o’clock?” Felkoff said. “You know Norbert won’t be in bed until one a.m. tonight. Why so early?”

“Because none of the writers will be in bed before two,” Kelleher said. “We want to be sure no one wanders by on their way out for breakfast. At nine o’clock it will be just us and a few out-of-work joggers. He can take a nap after the meeting.”

Felkoff stared at both of them with a kind of pure hatred Stevie couldn’t remember ever seeing before.

“All right, nine o’clock,” he said finally. “You better be quick.”

“If Doyle answers our questions, and tells the truth, it won’t take long at all,” Kelleher said. “We’ll see you then.”

They turned to walk out the door. “Hey, kid,” Felkoff said.

Stevie turned back. “The name’s Steve.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just one question: how do you sleep at night?”

Stevie looked at Felkoff, searching for an answer for a moment. Then it came to him. “On my side, occasionally on my stomach.”

Kelleher laughed out loud. And the two of them walked out the door.

• • •

The rest of the night was incident-free. And the game seemed pretty average too. Neither Martis for the Nationals nor Matsuzaka for the Red Sox pitched very well. It was 3-3 after five innings, but then Matsuzaka lost the plate in the sixth. With one out he walked Cristian Guzman, hit Elijah Dukes with a pitch, and then walked Ryan Zimmerman. After the pitching coach paid a visit to the mound, presumably to suggest in both English and Japanese that Dice-K throw strikes, Adam Dunn came to the plate for the Nationals.

Matsuzaka threw ball one. Then catcher Jason Varitek trotted out to the mound.

“Now they’re just stalling,” Barry Svrluga said. “They didn’t have the bullpen up soon enough, and they’re not ready.”

“Shouldn’t they get a lefty in here to face Dunn?” Stevie asked.

“They should get someone in who can throw a strike,” Mark Maske said.

“Sometimes you just have to take a sack,” George Solomon put in, causing everyone to stare at him as if he were speaking Japanese.

Matsuzaka threw ball two and the crowd grew restless, beseeching Matsuzaka to find the plate.

“Is he swinging here?” Susan Carol asked.

“If the ball’s anywhere near the plate, he’s swinging,” Svrluga said. “Dunn knows he has to come in with a fastball. This is his chance to break the game open.”

Matsuzaka checked the runners-who were all dancing around, trying to distract him even though they had no place to go-and threw again. Svrluga had called it. The pitch was a fastball straight down Broadway, and Dunn crushed it. The ball rose high into the night and easily cleared the wall in right-center field, landing in the Red Sox bullpen.

Except for a small coterie of Nationals fans, the ballpark was absolutely silent as Adam Dunn trotted around the bases. Terry Francona came to the mound to get Matsuzaka, causing Susan Carol to shake her head and say, “Talk about shutting the barn door too late.”

Even with a 7-3 lead the Nationals weren’t home free. Martis gave up a run in the sixth. Then the Red Sox scored single runs off the Nationals bullpen in the seventh and eighth. With men on first and second, and just one out in the eighth, Manny Acta brought in his closer, Joel Hanrahan.

“He’s got no choice,” Maske commented. “He can’t trust anyone else at this point.”

Hanrahan struck out Youkilis and got Pedroia to pop out to end the inning, and the Nationals clung to their 7-6 lead. Wanting to be sure the lead stayed at one, Francona brought in closer Jonathan Papelbon to pitch the ninth, and he held the Nats right there.

“This won’t be easy,” Stevie said, looking at his scorecard as Hanrahan warmed up. “Ortiz, Bay, and Lowell.”

Ortiz proved him right, crushing a 2-0 Hanrahan fastball into the gap for a double to start off the ninth inning. Hanrahan then walked Bay. Out to the mound came Manny Acta. Stevie hadn’t even glanced at the bullpen, since the Nationals already had their closer in the game.

“Wow, look at this,” Svrluga said when Acta waved his arm in the direction of the bullpen. “This takes some guts.”

Out of the pen came John Lannan-the Nationals’ number one starting pitcher. “He hasn’t pitched in relief all year,” Susan Carol said, her media guide already open.

“It’s the World Series,” Maske said. “Those two runners score and the season is over. This is what they call all hands on deck.”

Lannan came in throwing strikes. He was quickly ahead of Lowell with no balls and two strikes. His next pitch was a darting slider that Lowell tried to pull to left field. Instead he hit the ball right at Guzman, who flipped to second baseman Ronnie Belliard for a force at second base. Belliard’s relay to first easily beat the slow-footed Lowell. The crowd, which had been on its feet as Lowell came up, sat down. The tying run was on third, but now there were two men out.

“Manny is magic,” Susan Carol said.

“Not yet,” Svrluga said. “Lannan still has to get Drew.”

And he did. Drew hit a long fly ball to dead center field. If he had pulled the ball to right field, it might have been a series-winning home run over the Green Monster. Instead Dukes, the center fielder, drifted back and made the catch, and just like that, Manny Acta was magic and the series was tied at three games apiece.

Part of Stevie wished that the Red Sox had ended the series. But another part of him knew that a seventh game with Norbert Doyle pitching for the Nationals against knuckleballer Tim Wakefield pitching for the Red Sox was the way this series was probably supposed to end.

There were two questions left: who would win game seven, and what would be the big story the day after?

Stevie set the alarm for eight. They had decided that he and Susan Carol would go to the meeting with Kelleher and Tamara nearby if needed.