The 823rd Hit by Kurtis Scaletta

or two weeks in August I did the worst thing ever. I did something I never thought I’d do: I rooted against my team, the Pine City Porcupines.
    This is what happened.
    When I got my job as a Pines’ batboy, Mom and Dad said I couldn’t work during the school year. They said I’d be out too late on school nights. They thought I would need the time to do homework.
    So I knew my days as a batboy were numbered when Mom started talking about clothes and school supplies and my new teacher.

    â€œWhy can’t I work on weekends?” I asked at dinner.
    â€œWe already agreed you wouldn’t work during the school year,” said Dad.
    That was true. But I only agreed so they would let me take the batboy job.
    â€œIt’s just a few games,” I said. I took the Porcupines’ schedule out of my pocket and spread it on the table. I stabbed the month of September with my finger. “The regular season ends in two weeks. The Porcupines are on the road for one of those weeks. Then they’re in town for only one more weekend. After that, it’s just the playoffs.”
    â€œHow many games are we talking about?” Mom asked.
    Now I knew I had a chance.
    â€œTwo,” I said. “Three if you count LaborDay, and four if you count Friday. Plus the playoffs.”
    â€œHmm. That sounds like a lot of games to me,” said Dad. “You could fall behind on your schoolwork and never catch up.”
    â€œMelissa Carvel was out of school for three weeks last year when she had the mumps,” I said. “She caught up.”
    â€œThat girl didn’t have a choice,” he said. “We do.”
    Dad won that round.
    I went on to the next.
    â€œIf you don’t want me to work on school nights, why do you make me walk the dog and unload the dishwasher?” I asked.
    â€œThose things don’t take you out of the house for hours,” said Dad.
    He was right. I knew it was a weak argument.
    I decided it was time to play my best card.
    â€œDylan’s parents are letting
him
work on the weekends.”
    Dad sighed. “You can work on the weekends until the Porcupines are done,” he finally agreed. “But only under two conditions.”
    I felt a mixture of hope and dread. “What two conditions?”
    â€œFirst, once school starts, you have to do all of your homework before you go to the ballpark.”
    â€œOf course.” I wasn’t worried. We didn’t get that much homework at the beginning of the year.
    â€œSecond, if you try to argue your way into working on a school night, the whole deal is off.”
    Dad was smart. I had been hoping to wheedle my way into working one school night. He saw this coming a mile off.
    â€œOK,” I said. “It’s a deal. I accept the two conditions. I won’t even
ask
to work on a school night.”
    â€œNo matter what,” Dad said. “I’m serious, Chad.”
    â€œNo matter what,” I said.
    â€¢ • •
    The Porcupines were going to be in the Prairie League playoffs, for sure. Each of the top four teams earned a spot in the playoffs. Even if the Porcupines lost the rest of their games, they’d be in at least fourth place.
    The Porcupines had never been in the playoffs since I could remember. Now that they were headed there, I would get to see the playoffs—and watch them from the dugout! I loved my job.
    A few days later, I took a closer look at the playoff schedule. What I read made me groan.
    In playoff tournaments, there’s a thing called “seeding.” The seeding determines who plays who, when, and where. When there are four teams, the best-ranked team plays the last-ranked team, and the second-best ranked team plays the second-to-last ranked team.
    The Porcupines were probably going to finish in either first or second place. The top two teams would have home-field advantage for the first round of the playoffs, which would be a five-game