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shortstop, was leading off and batting from the left side, crowding the plate a little. The book on Devon was that he was not a first ball hitter. He often would bunt to get on base.

  Tonight, however, Devon swung at the first pitch and met it squarely, driving the ball deep to left center field.

  Will mentally cringed. It looked as if the ball was heading out of the park when wind blowing from left to right across the field knocked the ball down. Teddy Otoro, the fleet center fielder, hauled it in for the first out of the game.

  Will shook his head and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Concentrate.” Settling down, Will got third baseman Guido Gutierrez to go for a slider, low outside. Strike one. He came back with a curve that missed outside. One and one. Will surprised Gutierrez with another curve for strike two. Guido took a wild swing at high fast ball and trudged back to the bench.

  Two away.

  Right fielder Davy Phelps, a switch hitter, stepped in to bat from the right side. Phelps was a wild swinger but often connected deep with his unorthodox hitting style. Phelps waggled his bat at Will and grinned. The last time the two players faced each other in inter-league game, he laced a line drive down the line and into the stands for a solo homer.

  Will went into his windup. Strike. Phelps stepped out, adjusted his batting glove straps and stepped in. A wicked slider caught the corner of the plate just above the knees. Strike two. Phelps glared at the umpire as he stepped out again and then back into the batter’s box. Anticipating a fast ball, Phelps was way out in front of Will’s changeup.

  As Will trudged back to the bench, he was feeling good. Only nine pitches and he set the Vaqueros down, no hits and no walks.

  Innings 2-3-4

  But Juan Somoza, the Vaks ace lefty, was equally sharp in the bottom of the first. The Thunder went quietly in order and Will was quickly back on the mound for the top of the second inning.

  And so it went, inning after inning. Neither pitcher giving in; neither team able to get a hit.

  Second, third and fourth innings were identical. No walks, no hits, no errors. The Vaqueros had managed to get only one ball out of the infield, that being on Will’s first pitch of the game.

  Likewise, Somoza had allowed only two fly balls to the outfield, one in left center and one in right. The official scorer was busy chalking up Ks for strikeouts on both sides.

  Inning 5

  It was the top of the fifth. Will adjusted his cap and looked in for the sign. Low inside slider. He missed the strike zone. He missed again with another slider, this one high and away. Two balls and no strikes.

  Lopez signed for Will to jam the hitter with a fast ball inside. Will put the ball right in the catcher’s glove and Lopez didn’t have to move.

  “Ball,” rasped Allen behind the plate. Will took a long look at the umpire and couldn’t believe he didn’t get the strike call. He saw Lopez say something to the ump without turning his head. Allen shook his head. Ball three and no strikes.

  Will stalked off the mound to control his temper. He could feel the old anger rising. In his first three years in the majors, he had been dubbed “Wild Bill” Hickok by the announcers, not because he was wild with his pitches but because of his out-of-control temper. He may have set a major league record for being tossed from games by umpires in those early years. The club had insisted he take an anger management course in the off season.

  He picked up the rosin bag and worked over a new baseball. Finally, he stepped in and toed the rubber. He fired a fast ball down the middle.

  “Strike one,” Allen bawled.

  Will wiped the sweat from his brow. Despite being an October night, the evening was unusually warm and muggy. Looking in, Lopez gave him the sign for a curve. Will shook him off, a rare occurrence.

  Lopez gave him the sign for a slider low and outside. Instead, Will delivered a cutter and knew the minute the ball left his hand that the pitch would be over the plate but borderline low.

  “Strike two.”

  Lopez called for time and trotted out to the mound for a conference. “What’s up, Will? You almost crossed me up with that cut fast ball.”

  “I can get this guy, Marcio, with another fast ball.”

  “Okay, buddy, but make it a good one. You don’t wanna walk him. He’s lightening fast on the bases.” Lopez trotted back and went into his crouch behind the plate.

  Will toed and delivered, a 94-mile-an-hour four seam fast ball that hit Lopez’s mitt almost before the batter started his swing. Will’s concentration was fierce as he overpowered the next two hitters. He struck out the side.

  In the bottom of the fifth, Somoza got two quick outs on Thunder grounders to short and to third. With two away, Lopez stepped in and slammed Somoza’s first pitch down the right field line into the second deck, foul by a few feet. The crowd roared.

  The Vaqueros pitcher walked around the mound to compose himself and then stepped to the rubber. Lopez got a piece of a slider and fouled it off down the right field line. Strike two.

  Somoza wasted a pitch, trying to get Lopez to bite on one outside the strike zone. Lopez wasn’t having any. The Vaqueros pitcher jammed Lopez with an inside pitch that missed. The count stood at two and two.

  Sanchez, the Vaks catcher, trotted to the mound to confer with his pitcher, then wheeled and resumed his position.

  Lopez fouled one high back over the press box. He put another of Samosa’s pitches into the press box. He continued to get a piece of the ball pitch after pitch.

  Will knew that Somoza’s pitch count was going up. Seventeen pitches so far this inning and Lopez was making him work.

  After two straight curves, Somoza finally caught Lopez swinging and missing with a fast ball that tailed away inside.

  Inning 6

  Tension was mounting on both sides. Neither pitcher had given up a hit. Neither team had gotten a base runner. Knowledgeable fans were as aware as the players they were watching a superb duel by two great pitchers. Who would win the battle was still in question.

  So far, Will’s pitch count was low and his arm was feeling good. He knew his dad was watching him pitch on the new flat-screen TV Will had sent him. “How am I doin’, Dad?” That question popped into his mind as he walked out to start the sixth.

  Freddie “Road Runner” Byrd was up for the Vaqueros. Will’s first pitch was high and outside. His second pitch to Byrd was inside, just missing on another very close call. Will shook his head and stepped off the mound, working over a new ball.

  Getting the sign, Will came in with a slider that got too much of the plate. Byrd’s bat flashed around and slammed the ball down the right field line. It looked as if it would drop in for the first hit of the game.

  Kent Clarkson, the Thunder rookie right fielder, raced in and dived for the ball. Will held his breath as he watched. If Clarkson missed, the ball would go to the corner, good for at least a triple and maybe an inside-the-park home run. But Clarkson with a full-length stretch caught the ball before it hit the turf and rolled over, coming up with the ball held high. Replays on the giant screen in center field confirmed the catch.

  Will lifted his cap in Clarkson’s direction and acknowledged the rookie had saved his no-hitter. Working quickly, Will got the next two batters out and went to the dugout.

  His teammates congratulated Clarkson as he came down the steps. The capacity crowd roared in appreciation for the spectacular defensive play; the rookie stepped out to acknowledge the applause and tipped his cap to the crowd.

  Will got a drink of water and sat down. No one came near nor spoke to him. A long-standing baseball superstition held that if anyone mentioned the pitcher had a no-hitter going it would bring bad luck.

  As Will sat there alone, he thought about his wife up in the stands with the other wives and girl friends of the players. What was going through Anne’s mind, he wondered?

  “She wanted me to retire two years ago after the surgery,” Will recalled. “She was afraid I’d never be able to pitch as well a
gain.”

  Three years ago during August pennant race, Will suffered a season-ending torn ulnar collateral ligament (UCL) in his elbow while pitching. A week later he had Tommy John surgery to reconstruct the tendon and spent all of the following year in rehab. The surgery first performed in 1974 was named after former major league pitcher Tommy John who won 288 games in his career.

  This year, Will had made his major league comeback with his arm stronger than ever, winning 21 games in the regular season, the second highest total of his career.

  If he could win this World Series game, it would be a career milestone, 200 victories over his 18 years as a major league pitcher. He had signed a pro contract right out of high school.

  Inning 7

  “Will, you’re up.” Zack Wilson, the hitting coach, called. Will picked out a bat and walked to the plate.

  Somoza was still pitching but had walked his first batter after two outs in the seventh. Veteran left fielder Daren Rouke was on first.

  Will took the first pitch for a strike.

  Stepping out of the box, he took a couple of practice swings and stepped in. The pitch was high and outside, close to being a wild pitch. Somoza’s battery mate, “Cinch” Sanchez, corralled the pitch, called time and walked out to calm his pitcher.

  One and one. As Somoza delivered the next pitch, Will snapped the bat around and drove the ball to the opposite field for the first hit of the game. Rouke made it all the way to third