Inspired by Derek Jeter’s own life, Fair Ball is the fourth middle grade novel in the New York Times bestselling Jeter Publishing Program and focuses on the theme “the world isn’t always fair.” Life isn’t always fair. You can’t control that, but you can control how you think and act when things don’t go your way. You have to hang in there and keep after it, not get down and give up. Derek has a lot to look forward to. School is almost out, his baseball team is competing in the Westwood Little League Playoffs, and then he’ll head to his grandparents’ house for the summer. Sure, there are finals to study for first, but Derek doesn’t mind. Maybe this year he’ll get better grades than Gary. But when his best friend Dave starts to act strangely, ignoring Derek and canceling their plans, his summer isn’t looking quite so fun. What’s going on? Doesn’t he want to be Derek’s friend anymore? Derek is so distracted by his problems with Dave that he makes a mistake in the outfield during a key play—and his team loses the game. It’s so unfair! With the championship at stake and finals looming, Derek needs to stay focused or risk everything. Derek Jeter is a fourteen-time All-Star and five-time World Series winner who played for one team—the storied New York Yankees—for all twenty seasons of his major league career. His grace and class on and off the field have made him an icon and role model far beyond the world of baseball. Paul Mantell is the author of more than 100 books for young readers, including books in the Hardy Boys and Matt Christopher series. Fair Ball Chapter One PLAYOFFS! “Stee-rike ONE!” Derek Jeter winced as he stared at home plate from the on-deck circle. His teammate, Dean O’Leary, had just let a very hittable pitch go right by him. The odds of getting another meatball like that were slim to none. After all, it was the sixth inning already, and there was still no score for either team. Both the Dodgers’ pitcher and Dave Hennum, the Indians’ hurler (and one of Derek’s best friends), were at the top of their game. Neither team had gotten a runner past second base all day. If this game went into extra innings, both sides would have to reach for a relief pitcher. It was the first game of the Westwood Little League playoffs. This year the league had restructured the playoffs. The top four teams were now playing each other in a round-robin. The top two finishers would go head-to-head for the league championship. But that wasn’t all. In a new twist designed by the town, the winner of that game would then play the champion of the East Side league, for the first annual Kalamazoo Trophy! The new format would make for four weeks of tension and excitement—if the Indians got that far. In his heart Derek was sure his team would win it all, including the Kalamazoo Trophy. With his dad as their coach, how could they not? But Derek also knew that they still had to win the games, one by one. A loss to the Dodgers today would not knock them out of contention. But it might prove a fatal blow to their hopes in the end, so every at bat was important. “Stee-rike TWO!” Dean had swung, but the pitch had already landed in the catcher’s mitt. This Dodgers pitcher was a real fireballer. Derek remembered him from the regular season. The Indians had won that game 6–5 but hadn’t scored at all in this guy’s four innings on the mound. And so far today the Indians’ batters hadn’t even sniffed him. Derek swung his bat rhythmically in the on-deck circle, getting ready for his turn. He blew out regular, big breaths, trying to stay relaxed and calm. The next pitch to Dean was in the dirt, and he almost swung at it. But the ump held his arms out in the “safe” sign, ruling that Dean had checked his swing. The count was now 1–2, with one out and nobody on. “Protect, protect,” Derek muttered under his breath, hoping Dean could read his thoughts and would make sure to swing at anything that was close to a strike. The pitch came in. Dean watched it go by—right over the heart of the plate and down at the knees! “Stee-rike three!” yelled the ump. “What?” Dean cried, throwing his hands up. “That pitch was low!” “Yer out!” the ump said. “Let’s go. Next batter.” Dean dragged himself away, groaning with frustration as he passed Derek on his way back to the bench. Derek shook his head in sympathy, but he knew that Dean should have swung. The pitch might have been a little low, but it had been too close to let go by with two strikes. You never knew when an ump might miss a call. If you had to go down, it was better to go down swinging. Derek set his feet in the batter’s box. He could hear his teammates cheering him on. The Indians had learned over the course of their season to pull together as a unit and to play for one another, not just for themselves. That was a tribute to their coaches. Derek’s dad and Coach Bradway had made good players, such as Mason Adams, Jonathan Hogue, and Tito Ortega, bette