Chapter 2: The Dirt Doesn't Lie
⚾ Rafael Mercer was not smiling anymore either.
He stared at Jordan the way pitchers stare at runners they are about to embarrass.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Like a cat watching something it has already decided to catch.
Jordan didn't look at Rafael's face.
He looked at Rafael's feet.
The field went completely quiet.
Rafael came set.
Jordan took his lead — two steps, then a third, weight shifted forward, completely still.
Then Rafael's back heel lifted.
Jordan was gone.
The throw came in low and hard.
Chase blocked the base perfectly, glove down, ready.
Jordan's hand found the bag first.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Dennis said quietly, "Safe."
Chase yanked off his mask.
"No.
No way.
That's impossible."
"Check the bag," Dennis said.
The dirt told the story.
Jordan's fingertips had arrived a full beat before the tag.
Chase stood up slowly.
His face had gone from red to pale.
"He cheated."
"He read me," Rafael said.
His voice was flat.
Almost respectful.
"Same tell.
I didn't even know I had it."
Chase turned toward Dennis.
"This is a setup.
You coached him.
You told him what to look for."
Dennis looked at him for a long moment.
"Chase.
I've never spoken to this boy before today."
The silence that followed was the loudest thing on that field.
Then one of the coaches near the dugout stepped forward slowly.
He was holding something.
A folded piece of paper.
May you like
"Coach Ward," he said.
"You need to see this."
