by Fred Bowen
Eddie Wilson led off the top of the fourth inning. The Tigers went into the shift behind Drew. The Tiger pitcher got two quick strikes on the Red Sox slugger.
Standing in back of second base, Scott could see that Eddie was trying to push the ball to the left but could not do it. After two pitches in the dirt, Drew put one right across the heart of the plate. Eddie lashed a liner out toward second base. Scott took one quick step and leaped. The ball whistled by Scott’s outstretched glove. Scott turned to watch the ball take a crazy hop on the outfield grass over Peter’s glove and roll to the wall.
Running hard, Eddie Wilson made it to third base with a leadoff triple. He trotted home on a long fly ball by the Red Sox cleanup hitter. The Red Sox led 2–1.
“Come on, let’s get it back,” Scott said as the Tigers prepared to bat in the bottom of the fourth inning. Drew threw his glove against the bench.
“Why don’t we ditch this stupid shift thing, Scott?” he said. “It’s not working.”
“What do you mean?” Scott asked.
“He’s batting .500!” Drew shouted.
Benny put down his notebook and scooted down the bench to where Scott and Drew were talking. “The shift isn’t going to stop him every time,” Benny explained. “It just makes it harder for him to get a hit. It is just playing percentages.”
Drew turned on Benny. “We’re not playing percentages out here, Brain. We’re playing baseball!” Drew snapped. “And this shift thing isn’t working.”
“Chill out, both of you,” Scott ordered. “We’re going to stick with the shift. Benny, you’re going into right field next inning. Let’s concentrate on getting some runs.”
The Tigers did not score in the bottom of the fourth inning. Drew set the Red Sox down in order in the top of the fifth. So the Tigers still trailed by one run when they came to bat in the bottom of the fifth inning.
“Benny, you’re up!” Scott shouted. “Then the top of the order. Look them over. We need base runners.”
“Come on, guys, rally caps!” Drew called out, turning his Tigers hat backwards on his head.
The rally started slowly. Benny struck out swinging. Maggie grounded out to first. But Nick kept his teammates’ hopes alive with a sharp single.
Drew dug in at the plate.
“Come on, Drew. Keep it going.”
“Two-out rally!”
Drew jumped on the first pitch and sent a shot to right center field. Nick sprinted to third and Drew slid into second. The Tigers had runners on second and third. Two outs.
“Time!” the umpire called as Mr. Robinson walked slowly to the pitcher’s mound. Scott stood in the on-deck circle watching the conference on the mound as he nervously tested his swing.
Mr. Robinson jogged back to the dugout. Danny stepped into the batter’s box ready to hit.
“Come on, Danny, be a hitter.”
“Just takes one, Danny.”
The Red Sox catcher stood up behind the plate and reached out his glove. The Red Sox pitcher lobbed a pitch several feet outside. Ball one.
The Red Sox were walking Danny on purpose. Of course, Scott thought, walking Danny makes perfect sense. Now, the Red Sox can get an out at any base! I’m going to hit with the bases loaded!
FIFTEEN
Scott’s heart pounded as he dug his right foot into the back of the batter’s box. He took a deep breath and stared out at the Red Sox pitcher. Better start thinking like a player and not like a coach, Scott reminded himself.
The Red Sox pitcher wound up and spun a belt-high fastball across the inside half of the plate. Strike one!
Scott laid off the second pitch that was outside. Ball one.
Scott fouled off the next pitch. One ball, two strikes. Scott was down to his last strike. Get the bat started, Scott said to himself.
The Red Sox pitcher fired a hard one to the inside part of the plate. Scott swung and knocked a line drive to left field. As he ran to first base, Scott glanced to his left to see the ball fall in front of the Red Sox outfielders for a hit. Nick and Drew sprinted home. The Tigers led 3–2!
The chance to add to their lead was cut off when Fran popped up to end the inning.
“Come on, Tigers!” Scott shouted. “Last inning. Let’s play good defense.”
The team was psyched. The infield was filled with chatter.
“Come on, Drew. Blow it by them!”
“One, two, three, Drew.”
“No batter, no batter.”
The Red Sox leadoff hitter slapped an easy one-hopper to Drew. The Tigers pitcher lobbed a quick throw to first. One out.
The second Red Sox batter sliced a line shot to left field. Eric juggled the ball just enough to allow the batter to cruise into second base.
Runner on second, one out. And Eddie Wilson was coming up.
Drew held up his hands and called, “Time.” He motioned Scott to the mound with his glove. Danny took his catcher’s mask off and joined the conference.
“Let’s forget the shift,” Drew suggested. “Why don’t we walk Eddie and set up easy plays at—”
“No!” Scott said, shaking his head. “That would put the winning run on base. Let’s take our chances with Eddie.”
“Come on, Drew, you can get him out, “Danny said, pulling his mask down over his face. “Just throw hard.”
Drew nodded. “Okay.”
Scott looked out at the Tigers fielders.
“Put the shift on,” he called.
Eric ran from left field over to right. Benny, who had been playing right field, ran over to be the only fielder on the left side of the outfield. Scott trotted to his position on the first base side of second base.
“Come on, Drew. No batter, no batter.”
Drew threw a fastball, high. Ball one.
“Throw strikes, Drew, throw strikes.”
The second pitch was a bit inside. Eddie swung and missed.
Scott could see that once again Eddie was trying to push the ball to the left against the shift. Scott edged a few steps over to the left side of the infield.
Drew threw hard for the outside corner.
Crack! Eddie Wilson’s smooth swing sent the ball sailing down the left-field line.
But the ball did not have the distance of one of Eddie’s home-run drives to right field, and started to fall into the empty space of left field.
“Oh, no!” Scott cried as he watched Benny race to the left-field corner, looking up at the fast-falling ball.
The Red Sox runner at second took off. There seemed no way that Benny would catch the towering fly. But at the last moment, Benny leaped, stretching for the ball like a football receiver. The ball wedged into the webbing of Benny’s glove as he tumbled onto the outfield grass.
“What a catch!” Scott yelled, punching his fist into the air.
“Get it to second!” Drew screamed. “Double play!”
Benny sprang to his feet with the ball in his glove. His face looked both dazed and thrilled.
“Throw me the ball!” Scott shouted, racing out to left field. The Red Sox runner, already past third base, started scrambling back to second.
Benny lofted a throw over Scott’s head.
“Oh, Benny!” Scott groaned, thinking the Tigers chance at a double play was slipping away. But Maggie was ready. She stopped the wild throw on the outfield grass in back of second and dashed to the bag. Maggie was one stride ahead of the runner. She pushed her foot hard on the base and threw her arms up in triumph.
“Way to go, Maggie!”
“Great catch, Benny!”
The Tigers had won, 3–2!
After shaking hands with the shocked Red Sox, the Tigers stood outside the dugout celebrating. All together they started chanting: “Game ball! Game ball! Game ball!”
Scott held the ball up for quiet. “I think we all know who’s getting this ball,” he said, smiling.
“All right, Benny.”
“Attaway, Brain.”
“Way to go, Peaches.”
Scott shot Drew an angry glance.
“I mean Benny. Way to go, Benny,” Drew said, smiling.
Scott held the ball up again. “Benny helped the team all year by keeping the stats, making suggestions, thinking up the shift, and just knowing a lot about baseball.”
“Knowing baseball?” Drew blurted out. “How about that catch? That’s playing baseball!”
The team cheered as Scott tossed Benny the ball.
The Tigers seemed to drift away more slowly following this last game. Finally, only Drew, Fran, and Benny were left. They helped Scott put the helmets, bats, and memories of another baseball season into the battered brown equipment bag.
“I can’t believe it’s over,” Scott said, tossing a final helmet into the bag.
“I can’t believe we did so well,” Fran said. “We had a winning season.”
Drew pointed his thumb at Benny and laughed. “I can’t believe Benny made that catch.”
The kids laughed and looked at Benny.
“I can’t believe Drew is calling me Benny,” he said, flipping the game ball happily in the air.
THE END
PLAYER COACHES THE REAL STORY
What Benny told his teammates about player-coaches is true. Years ago, it was fairly common for major league ball players to take on the added responsibility of coaching their teams. They called these guys player-coaches (or player-managers).
The list of player-coaches includes some of the biggest names in baseball history. Ty Cobb (career batting average of .367), Rogers Hornsby (.358), home-run slugger Mel Ott (511 homers), and pitching great Christy Mathewson (373 wins) are on the list. Also included are Hall of Famers like Bill Terry, George Sisler, Joe Cronin, Mickey Cochrane, and Harold Joseph “Pie” Traynor, who all managed teams during their playing years.
The legendary Babe Ruth wanted to manage the New York Yankees near the end of his playing career, but the owners of the Yankees said no. They thought the “Sultan of Swat” (as Babe Ruth was known) was too undependable to run a baseball team.
Today you don’t hear much about player-coaches. Most of them played ball before the 1950s. But in the 1970s, all-time great Frank Robinson (586 homers) played and coached with the Cleveland Indians. Pete Rose, another all-time great (4256 hits), was a player-coach for the Cincinnati Reds in the 1980s.
Probably the greatest single season any player-coach has had in the history of baseball was the season Lou Boudreau (pronounced Boo-DRO) had in 1948. Boudreau, a shortstop with the Cleveland Indians, became the team’s player-coach in 1942 when he was only twenty-four years old. He was so young that the newspapers sometimes called him “The Boy Manager.”
Boudreau wasn’t a terrific player-coach right away. In the Indians first six years under Boudreau, they never finished higher than third place in the American League. Things were looking so bad for Boudreau that the Indians almost traded him in 1947.
It’s a good thing they didn’t—1948 was a magical year for Boudreau. As he put it: “I had angels on my shoulders.” Boudreau batted .355 with 18 home runs and 106 runs batted in. He led American League shortstops in double plays and fielding percentage and he was named the American League’s MVP (Most Valuable Player).
That year, the Indians—coached by Boudreau—tied the Boston Red Sox for first place in the American League with a record of 96–58. Boudreau smashed two home runs and two singles in an 8–3 victory over the Red Sox in a playoff game. Then, Boudreau led the Indians to the World Series Championship over the Boston Braves in six games.
Imagine if modern-day shortstop Jimmy Rollins, during his MVP year in 2007, also coached his team to the World Championship. That is what Lou Boudreau did in 1948.
Benny was also right that Lou Boudreau is known for the “The Williams Shift.” Just like Benny, Boudreau had been keeping notes. He knew that Ted Williams of the Boston Red Sox, a left-handed slugger, hit the ball to the right side of the field 95 percent of the time. So when Ted Williams got up to bat, Boudreau shifted his fielders to the right side of the field. Other major league teams followed Boudreau’s lead and started using the shift against Ted Williams.
Did the shift work? Well, yes and no. There were times when Williams tried so hard to blast the ball past the fielders that he did not hit very well. For example, the St. Louis Cardinals used the shift against Williams in the 1946 World Series and the Red Sox star hit only .200 (5 singles in 25 at bats) with no home runs.
But the Williams Shift did not keep Ted Williams from being one of the greatest hitters of his era. In fact, Williams ended his career with .344 batting average and 521 home runs. Because, as Benny found out, no matter where the coach places the fielders, someone has to catch the ball to get the batter out. That’s playing baseball.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, the author would like to thank Scot Mondore at the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York. This time, Mr. Mondore dug up interesting information on player-coach Lou Boudreau.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
One of Fred Bowen’s earliest memories is watching the 1957 World Series with his brothers and father on the family’s black-and-white television in Marblehead, Massachusetts. Mr. Bowen was four years old.
When he was six years old, he was a batboy for his older brother Rich’s Little League team. At age nine, he played on a team himself, spending a great deal of time keeping the bench warm. By age eleven, he was a Little League All-Star.
Over a period of thirteen years, Mr. Bowen coached thirty-one different kids’ sports teams in soccer, baseball, softball, and basketball.
Mr. Bowen is the author of a number of sports novels for young readers. He lives in Silver Spring, Maryland, with his wife Peggy Jackson. His daughter is a college student and his son is a college baseball coach.
Mr. Bowen writes a weekly sports column for kids in the Washington Post.
Visit his website at www.fredbowen.com.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Lee Boudreau photo courtesy of the National Baseball Hall of Fame Library, Cooperstown, NY.
Copyright © 1996 by Fred Bowen
Cover design by Thomas Gonzalez and Maureen Withee
Book design by Melanie McMahon Ives
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