Most of his teammates have already arrived by the time they pull into the parking lot. The mood is grim. No team likes to lose its best player before an important game. Even Rudy looks uncharacteristically flustered.
Ironically, the one calm person is the messenger who delivered the bad news. Owen calls out the batting order, adding his two bits about the heroics of each player. When he gets to out-of-the-park Patrick (yeah, right!), Owen glances over at Rudy. Where to put Patrick so that he might do the least harm? One thing is sure, they can’t risk making Patrick the catcher—it’s too critical a position if they want to win this game.
Maybe it’s the sight of Dean’s folded uniform, which Owen brought along in case an unexpected sub should need it, or of Essie getting out of the van to say hi to her new pals, but Rudy’s face takes on a studied look. “We’re a summer-league team,” he observes out of the blue. “And this young lady has practiced with us. Tell you what …” He points at Essie. “Are you ready to play ball?”
Miguel is about to scream “NO!” But Essie beats him to it with her shout of “YES!” Miguel can’t believe this is happening! This is worse than his bad dreams last night. But he reasons with himself. He wants to beat the Panton Panthers, doesn’t he? This might be the only way. He has watched Essie at practice, and though she can be a pessimist and a pest, one thing you can’t take away from her is the girl can play baseball.
Dean’s uniform is, of course, too big on Essie. Before you know it, Víctor has made an emergency run to the house and come back with Tía Lola and her sewing kit. While the team warms up, Tía Lola gets to work hemming the legs and sleeves. A half hour later when Essie emerges from the dugout, she looks like a smaller version of Dean. As she and Miguel warm up, getting into a rhythm, pitching, catching, working out their signals, Miguel can’t help feeling that the team got lucky finding Essie to replace Dean.
When they break after warming up, the tension also seems to have broken. The team’s fighting spirit is finally kicking in. “You’re looking good, nice catches, excellent throwing, scorcher hits.” Rudy has something good to say to each player. They all perk up with the praise.
Except for Patrick, who sits at the end of the bench, his gaze cast down as if he’s ashamed of himself. The team tries to make it up to him, including him in jokes, praising his improved catching and batting. But the only way to reverse the sad look on the boy’s face is to let him play in the game today.
The Panton team arrives. Twelve hefty teens emerge from a van with a crouching panther painted on its side. A team with its own van! These guys are serious ballplayers, not just boys in search of summer fun. Furthermore, they don’t look like eleven- and twelve-year-olds. Some of these guys must already be shaving! The rules for these summer-league games are a little loose, since towns and teams don’t have to follow the official Little League handbook. Look at Essie, she’d never be able to play if this were a regular game. But the age-limit rule is usually observed.
“All that glitters is not gold.” Tía Lola has sat down beside Miguel where he’s sizing up the opposition. “Good things come in small packages,” she adds, using another of the sayings she has learned and nodding toward Essie. “You have a chance to win this game, Miguel. But you have to convince yourself or you have already lost.” Then Tía Lola adds a saying that Miguel hasn’t heard before. “Don’t dig your grave with your own knife and fork.”
Miguel has to smile. Tía Lola has a way of saying just the right thing at the right moment. “I know,” he agrees with his aunt. “I just didn’t sleep a whole lot last night. Worrying, I guess, about everything.”
Tía Lola nods as if she already knows Miguel’s laundry list of worries: his concern about betraying his father if he likes Víctor, disappointing his mother if he doesn’t; hurting his father if he doesn’t like Carmen, or his mother if he does. It’s as if, overnight, Miguel’s whole life has turned into some crazy game, and he doesn’t even understand the rules, so how’s he supposed to know how to behave? Furthermore, how can he concentrate on baseball when he has gotten all tangled up in this other game?
“Nobody is keeping score in the game that really counts,” Tía Lola says, as if she can read his mind. Miguel must look confused as to what game his aunt is talking about, because she goes on to explain, “El juego de la vida.”
The game of life? Miguel sighs. He’s no philosopher. And this is no time to get in over his head in deep thoughts.
“This game of life is really very simple,” Tía Lola goes on. “There is only one very important rule to follow.” Tía Lola whips out her sword and gives it to Miguel to hold. It’s only now that Miguel realizes that in his daze this morning, he forgot to pick up his own sword as he left his room. Another strike against him on this tricky day.
Miguel wonders what kind of a rule requires that you hold a sword in order to hear it. “So what’s the rule, Tía Lola?”
“Okay, ready, set, go!” Tía Lola jokes. Miguel hates to tell his aunt, but she is in a whole other sport. “This very hard rule is: no matter what you do, you have to try to be happy doing it. First, if you’re happy, you take yourself off the list of people Tía Lola has to help. Second, if you’re happy doing something, you’ll have fun no matter the result. Let’s see. What number are we at?” Tía Lola looks down at her fingers, scowling.
Miguel shakes his head, smiling fondly at his crazy aunt. “You’re at strike two, Tía Lola,” he jokes.
“Okay, here’s the home run,” Tía Lola says. She’s mixing up baseball plays, but at least she is back in the game. “If you are happy, the people who love you will be happy, too.”
Miguel doesn’t get it. How can being happy be a hard rule? But Tía Lola has a point. Seems like everyone in the world wants to be happy, but the world is not a happy place. “So what’s the sword for?”
“To remind you!” Tía Lola grins.
Almost as if to test Miguel’s ability to follow this hard rule of being happy in real time, his family arrives. Miguel has been dreading meeting up with Papi. His father is bound to be upset about Víctor driving Miguel to the ballpark this morning. For a brief moment, Miguel considers hurrying into the dugout so he doesn’t have to face Papi right before the big game. But call it magic, call it the rule of gold, before Miguel knows it, he’s waving hello with Tía Lola’s sword.
His father trots over, a rolled-up bundle under his arm. “Thank you, mi’jo, for not being upset with your old man. I’m really sorry about this morning. I guess with all this country quiet, I just slept through my alarm.” Papi unfolds the banner he painted on a long canvas sheet. “My peace offering,” he calls it. It’s a beautiful green field of dreams, so eye-catching that even a couple of players from the Panton team come over to check it out.
His papi is an artist, not an athlete; Miguel has always known that. But it’s only at this moment that Miguel realizes that Papi has his own way of celebrating his son with the talent that he does have.
And right now, Miguel has a talent he wants to use—playing ball. If he loses, he loses. He can always try again. Tomorrow will be another day, and it ain’t over till it’s over, as Yogi Berra used to say. It’s funny how Tía Lola often reminds Miguel of this old-time baseball great.
This particular game between the Panton Panthers and Charlie’s Boys is going to go down in local baseball history as one that kept the fans on the edge of their seats until the very end. The score inches up—first the Panton Panthers are ahead by one run, then Charlie’s Boys, neck and neck. At one point, Miguel looks up and realizes he’s got a whole cheering section, posters pumping up and down, Papi’s banner unfolded, Victoria whistling, a bunch of swords waving. It can’t help but boost his confidence and flood his heart with gratitude. All these people are rooting for him—and not just in today’s game. Tía Lola is right. They want to see him happy each and every day of his life.
What really allows Charlie’s Boys to stay right in there with the Panthers is Essie’s amazing ability to sl
am them out of the ballpark. The Panther pitcher can’t seem to throw her a ball she can’t hit. Each time she swings, folks in the bleachers stand up to see where it’s going to land. It’s as if Essie has taken her older sister’s poster to heart: HIT THEM OVER THE RAINBOW! And she does.
The crowd is hoarse from shouting. And it isn’t going to get quieter now at the top of the fifth with the game tied, 3–3. Coach Rudy gathers them in a huddle. It’s time for substitutions, if there are going to be any. Unbelievably, Rudy announces that he’s taking Essie out and putting in Patrick. This is suicide! Miguel can understand letting Patrick play, but put him out of the way in right field. Don’t make him the catcher and risk a weak player in a key position at this point in the game.
But later, at the barbecue at Miguel’s house, Rudy will explain. “I wanted to win this big game so much for the team, I forgot what playing baseball is all about. I did wrong bypassing Patrick and picking Essie to replace Dean. But God, who loves us as much as some of us love baseball, gave me a second chance to do the right thing. He hit me over the head with his wake-up bat!”
But here at the top of the fifth inning, God hasn’t hit Miguel with the same wake-up bat. He pulls his coach over. “Please, don’t take Essie out now, please.” But Rudy is sticking to what he knows is right. “This goes, Captain.”
Miguel feels like staging a mutiny. After all, he is the captain, and like Tía Lola always says, Donde manda capitán no manda soldado. Where the captain is in charge, the soldier can’t give orders. But Rudy isn’t any old foot soldier, he’s the coach, and in baseball that means he’s the boss. So Miguel tries another suggestion. As the two outsiders, Essie and Patrick have been practicing on the sidelines all week. They’ll make a more decent pairing than Miguel and Patrick will. “Okay, Coach, then bring Essie in for me.”
Rudy’s eyebrows lift in surprise. Miguel is not a kid who easily steps out of a baseball game. Look at the way he persisted after bruising that ankle. But Rudy must realize that he’s not the only one getting a second chance to be a bigger person today. Coach and captain lock eyes. “Ankle still a little sore?” Rudy is offering Miguel a way to explain himself to his teammates. Miguel nods. Although it will be two innings before the game is over, this is how you really win in life as well as in baseball.
“It’s the little victories in a game that count,” Rudy has always told them. But this time they get to have both. Essie’s fastball strikes out two Panthers, and the last out is recorded when Andrew snags a line drive. Meanwhile, batting at the bottom of the final inning of the game, little Patrick whams one up, up, and away: a fly ball that surprises even the Panthers’ right fielder, who stumbles and drops the ball. Essie makes it home, and Charlie’s Boys have won the game, 4–3, and are they ever happy about it!
“Thanks for letting me pitch, Captain,” Essie tells Miguel at the team barbecue after the game. “Hey, you were right. You really can work magic.”
What on earth is she talking about? She’s the one with the magic arm, fastballs that strike out batters, and home runs that travel for miles. “What magic?”
“Remember how I said if you could work magic, you’d make this week more fun than Disney World? Well, it’s been like ten times more fun!” Essie is still on a high after winning the game today. Maybe she’ll never come down again.
When they’re almost done with eating, Rudy clinks his glass. He has an announcement to make. “The time has come. Your old coach just can’t keep up with you young folks. This is going to have to be my last season coaching.”
The team’s spirit takes a collective nosedive. Good thing Rudy made this announcement after the game, not before. They would have lost the game for sure. But Rudy shakes his head. “The magic is in you guys, not in me.” He sure sounds a lot like Tía Lola. “And hey, buddies, I’m not leaving you out there without a paddle. I’ve got a plan.” He lets them all hang in suspense a moment before nodding toward Víctor. “This last week, I’ve been watching you, Vic. You’ve got what it takes to coach these kids and bring out the best in the team. I’m sure hoping you’ll soon be moving up here so you can take over.”
Víctor has been looking wistfully at Linda during Rudy’s passing-of-the-bat speech. After an awkward silence, he gives the same reply he has been giving his girls: “It’s not just up to me, you know.”
“Well, if it’s up to the team, all in favor, say aye.” Rudy turns to the young players he has been coaching for several seasons now. They all cheer for Coach Víctor.
All but their captain, who is feeling torn. Miguel would love to have Víctor coach the team. But Papi is looking on. Before he votes, Miguel wants to be sure that his father knows that in the big game of life, as Tía Lola calls it, Papi will always be Miguel’s head coach.
“I’m glad you’ve been having such a good time, mi’jo,” his father says, his voice a little sad. Finally, father and son are getting a chance to walk out to the back pasture together after the barbecue. Once it’s dark, Miguel’s family and the Swords will have a farewell campfire together, Tía Lola’s idea.
Miguel has been telling Papi all about his adventures this week. How Tía Lola started a camp for the girls, but then that camp fizzled out, and the whole place turned into one big camp for everybody. The nighttime treasure hunt, the magic swords to help them with some challenge, the last-minute Fourth of July party. Even though he hurt his ankle and couldn’t play baseball for a couple of days, Miguel has to agree with Essie. It has been a fun week.
Only one thing has been missing: Papi. Miguel wants his father to know this. But unlike Mami or Juanita or Tía Lola, Miguel doesn’t find it easy putting his feelings into words. And right this moment, he doesn’t have Tía Lola’s or his sword to help him—both are up in his room.
But Tía Lola keeps saying that the magic is really inside each and every person, and the swords just remind you of that fact. So Miguel takes a deep breath and blurts it all out in one sentence: “Papi, no matter what, you’ll always be my father, even if Mami marries Víctor, right?”
“Of course, mi’jo!” Papi says, grabbing his son in a long, lingering hug. When he pulls away, Papi’s eyes are teary, the happy kind of tears. “I want your mother to be happy. And if she’s happy and I’m happy, I think you and Juanita will be happy, too. And sure, there might be moments that I feel a little sad that I’m not the one here living with you. But when I get to missing you too much, I’ll jump in the car with Car or ask your mami to send you and Juanita down with your Tía Lola. Deal?”
More than a deal! It’s exactly what Miguel wants, to see his father often and still get to live in Vermont.
All this talking about Tía Lola reminds Miguel how much his aunt helped him today. So why not give Tía Lola his sword now that he has hers? The golden rule of giving: give unto others as they have given unto you!
Upstairs, Miguel finds his sword still propped on the chair by his bedroom door, where he put it so he’d remember to take it with him to the game today. Before taking it down to the campfire, Miguel crosses out his name and writes Tía Lola’s on the blade, followed by a big smiley face.
Ten
saturday night and sunday morning
The Departure of the Swords
“Tonight, we say hasta luego,” Tía Lola tells the assembled group. “Farewell for now, but not forever.”
They are sitting around a big campfire in the backyard. Night has fallen, a dark one with an overcast sky. Abuelito and Abuelita have gone to bed, tired after a packed day. But everyone else lingers, not wanting to break the magic of being together.
The three Espada girls sit in ascending age order, followed by Carmen and Papi, Miguel and Juanita, then Valentino, Mami with her arm around him, and finally Víctor, closing the circle. In the center stands Tía Lola, feeding the fire. With the flames lighting up her face and shadows springing from her arms as she gestures, she looks like the wise woman in a fairy tale.
“Some of you have been here a week, and some of you
just arrived. But tonight, we all join a circle of friendship that we can always come back to in our hearts.”
“Oh, Tía Lola,” Victoria says, her eyes shining brightly. “You’re going to make us all cry.”
“I’m not going to cry,” Essie declares, clearing her throat, just in case. Sobs have been known to sneak up on her the back way.
Cari snuggles close to her father. “I don’t want to leave Vermont, Papa,” she sniffles.
“Well, we have to!” Essie says sharply. Of course, she’d like to give herself the luxury of wishing otherwise. But despite her tough facade, tiny drops accumulate in the corners of her eyes.
Victoria is still hoping her father, or actually Linda, will make an announcement. But Linda hasn’t said anything, and by now, it’s unlikely she will. The move will have to be put on hold. Why must adults always put brakes on their feelings? No wonder Romeo and Juliet were teenagers! Of course, they had to die before they grew up and ruined everything! “I’m going to miss everybody, that’s for sure.” Although “everybody” includes all of Victoria’s new Vermont friends around this circle, one particular face pops up in her head. A tall, blue-eyed fourteen-year-old with beautiful dark brown hair. “It’s sad when things have to end.”
Across the circle, Valentino lets out one of his all-purpose sighs.
“I know goodbyes are difficult,” Tía Lola allows, “but without them, we can’t start a new adventure.”
Essie likes the sound of that. A new adventure. Before this week of summer camp, she thought of her life as just her boring life. But Tía Lola has made her realize that each day is a story that Essie can try to end happily. And happiness is no longer confined to places like Disney World. Happiness can happen anywhere, even in Queens, though Essie would prefer having her happy adventures in Vermont from now on.
She grips her samurai sword. It’s curious how, around the circle, everyone has brought their swords along, even though Tía Lola didn’t suggest they do so. It just seemed appropriate to bring them to this closing campfire. Except for the memories in their heads and one lame mood ring, the swords are their only souvenir from this week at Tía Lola’s summer camp.