The All-Star Joker

by David A. Kelly

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2012 by David A. Kelly

  interior illustrations copyright © 2012 by Mark Meyers

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  Random House and the colophon are registered trademarks and A Stepping Stone Book and the colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Kelly, David A. (David Andrew)

  The All-Star joker / by David A. Kelly; illustrated by Mark Meyers. — 1st ed.

  p. cm. — (Ballpark mysteries; 5)

  Summary: When cousins Mike and Kate go to Kansas City for the All-Star game, they meet the son of the American League starting catcher who stands falsely accused of playing practical jokes on his All-Star teammates.

  eISBN: 978-0-375-89967-6

  [1. All-Star Baseball Game—Fiction. 2. Baseball—Fiction. 3. Practical jokes—Fiction. 4. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Meyers, Mark, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.K2936Al 2012 [Fic]—dc23 2011034706

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

  v3.1

  This book is dedicated to my two favorite all-stars, Steven and Scott.

  —D.A.K.

  To Dominic, Amy, Zach, and Josh —M.M.

  “There is no homework.”

  —Dan Quisenberry, Kansas City Royals pitcher, on the best thing about baseball

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1 A Last-Minute Scratch

  Chapter 2 Rocketing to the Top

  Chapter 3 The Tables Have Ears

  Chapter 4 A Slippery Situation

  Chapter 5 Benched!

  Chapter 6 Concretes and Clubs

  Chapter 7 Fountains of Foam!

  Chapter 8 A Surprise

  Chapter 9 A Friendly Shake

  Dugout Notes Kauffman Stadium

  A Last-Minute Scratch

  The crowd roared as the Kansas City Royals catcher Josh Robinson belted another ball high into the warm July night.

  “I got it! I got it!” Kate Hopkins yelled. She ran backward across the outfield grass. Her cousin Mike Walsh and a gangly kid with dark curly hair started for the ball, too, but Kate waved them off.

  PLOP! The baseball dropped perfectly into her glove. She showed it to Mike. Stamped on it in big blue letters were the words HOME RUN DERBY.

  “Nice catch, cuz! Our first home run derby ball!” Mike said, pounding his fist into his glove. “If only we could stay out here to field balls during the all-star game!”

  Kate and Mike were at the Kansas City Royals Kauffman Stadium for the all-star game. The all-star game was played each July in a different city. The best players from the American League took on the best players from the National League. The night before the all-star game was the home run derby.

  The two cousins had flown in the day before from Cooperstown, New York, with Kate’s mother. Mrs. Hopkins was a reporter for the American Sportz website. Last summer Mike and Kate had volunteered in a special program that helped kids with disabilities play baseball. Some of the volunteers had been invited to chase balls in the outfield during the home run derby.

  “I can’t believe I caught a ball hit by Josh Robinson!” Kate said. “He’s one of the best catchers in the league!”

  “You bet he is,” said the gangly boy who had been chasing the ball Kate caught. His bright blue T-shirt had ROYALS written in white script across the front. “He’s my dad!”

  The boy turned and pointed over his shoulders to the big white letters that arched across his back. They spelled ROBINSON. Underneath was 23.

  “Your dad’s Josh Robinson?” Kate asked. “Really?”

  The boy turned back around. “Yup,” he said with a smile. “My name is Andy.”

  “I’m Kate. And this is my cousin Mike,” she said. “You should probably have this, then.” She flipped the home run derby baseball to Andy.

  Andy shook his head. He tossed the ball back to Kate. “Nah, you keep it,” he said. “We’ve got plenty of baseballs at home. But this is the first time Dad’s been in the home run derby. What are you guys doing here?”

  “We volunteered last summer in the Little League Challenger Division,” Mike said. “They invited us to the all-star game.”

  Andy tipped his hat to Kate and Mike. “Cool,” he said. “My dad volunteers, too. He does magic tricks and tells baseball jokes when he visits kids in the hospital. They love it. You just have to watch it when he starts with the practical jokes! He likes playing tricks on people.”

  CRACK! The sound of another hit echoed through the outfield.

  “Heads-up!” Kate yelled. “Your dad nailed that one!”

  The kids in the outfield ran back toward the right-field wall. But the ball sailed over their heads. It flew past a row of seats toward the longest fountain Mike had ever seen. It was just behind the outfield wall. A second black fountain curved along the outfield on the left side.

  SPLASH! The ball landed in the right-field fountain. Jets of water surged fifteen feet up in the air, while red, yellow, and blue lights shone up from under the water.

  “I guess your dad really went deep on that one,” Mike said. He elbowed Kate in the ribs. “Get it?”

  Kate rolled her eyes at Mike’s joke. “Funny,” she said. “But not funny enough to gush over!”

  Up at home plate, Josh waited for the next pitch. He was the sixth of eight batters in the home run derby. But he had the lowest score and only one out left. Unless he hit a lot of home runs, his turn would be done.

  The next pitch was right over the plate. Josh popped the ball high to left field for an out.

  “Shoot!” Andy said. “Only three home runs. That’s not enough to advance.”

  “Sorry,” Mike said. “Want to stay out here with us? Big D is up next. We’re friends with him. We helped him find his lucky bat when it was stolen.”

  “Cool!” Andy said. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

  Big D from the Boston Red Sox strode to the plate. The stadium full of fans went wild. With his friendly smile and home run record, Big D was a favorite to win the derby. He stepped into the batter’s box. He swiveled his front foot in the dirt and took a few practice swings.

  Mike, Kate, and Andy got ready. Part of Mike wanted Big D to nail home runs over the fence to win. But another part wanted him to hit some pop-ups for them to catch.

  Big D let the first two pitches go by. But he unwound on the third pitch and sent it sailing to the left of the huge center-field scoreboard topped by a giant gold crown. The fans cheered wildly!

  Kate, though, was watching Big D, not the ball. “What’s wrong with Big D? He’s dancing around like he’s got ants in his pants!”

  She was right. Big D hopped around home plate as if his feet were on fire. He twitched his shoulders from one side to the other. Then he reached his bat over his shoulder and rubbed it up and down his back quickly as if he had an itch he couldn’t scratch. After a minute, he settled down and tried to hit again.

  But something still bothered him. As the pitch flew over the plate, Big D’s shoulder
twisted in a funny way and the bat weakly hit the ball down the first-base line. It was not his night.

  Big D looked like a big dud. Pitch after pitch went by. In between them, Big D kept scratching his stomach and his back and rubbing his feet. Whenever he hit a ball, it dribbled into the outfield.

  Big D’s turn ended quickly. He only scored one home run, the lowest score all night.

  Kate winced. “That was awful! Big D should have hit a lot of home runs!”

  Mike nudged Andy with his elbow. “Well, at least your father’s not in last place anymore,” he said.

  Andy cracked a smile. “Hey, you’re right!” he said.

  “Come on. Let’s go see what happened,” Kate said.

  While the final batter stepped up to the plate, Mike, Kate, and Andy ran to the American League’s dugout. Andy jogged over to his dad, who was standing next to Sparky, the team’s manager.

  “What’s going on?” Andy asked.

  Josh shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe Big D’s allergic to all that prairie grass we have around here.”

  Big D stood at the top of the dugout steps, scratching his arms like crazy. “Ah, looks like he’s just allergic to hitting home runs on his night off,” muttered Sparky. “I say you either get the job done or you don’t. Big D didn’t tonight. I sure hope he does better during the game tomorrow.”

  Still, Big D smiled when he spotted Mike and Kate.

  “Mike and Kate! Good to see you,” Big D wheezed, in between scratches. “I don’t need help finding my bat tonight. But I’d love if you could figure out why I’m so itchy.”

  “Maybe it’s your uniform,” Mike said. “Once I was allergic to laundry detergent. It left a bunch of red marks on my arm.”

  “Nah, we brought the uniforms with us,” Big D panted. “Arrrrgh! This is killing me! Mike, can you grab my water bottle from my locker?”

  “Sure,” Mike replied. He scampered down the steps into the clubhouse behind the dugout. While he was gone, Big D leaned into the edge of the dugout and rubbed his back against it. Then he whipped off his hat and used both hands to scratch his head. Finally, Mike returned with the water bottle. Big D took three huge gulps and gasped for air.

  “I’m still itchy, but that feels better,” he said, wiping his chin. “Thanks!” He went back to scratching furiously.

  Mike made a funny face at Kate. It looked as if he had something important to say.

  “Uh, Big D?” he said. “I found something in the locker room that you might want to see.”

  Big D stopped scratching his legs. He looked at Mike.

  Mike pulled out a small plastic bottle from his back pocket. He held it up.

  Across the front, it read:

  ITCHING POWDER

  Rocketing to the Top

  Before Big D could respond, Sparky grabbed the bottle from Mike’s hand.

  “Itching powder!” Sparky read the words aloud. He flipped the bottle open and tipped it upside down. “Empty. Well, I’ll be …”

  Sparky squinted down at Mike. Wisps of white wiry hair poked out from under the edge of his baseball cap. “Where’d you get this, son?”

  “I found it in the trash can in the locker room,” Mike said. “Right next to the door.”

  “Hmph,” Sparky snorted. He snapped around and stamped to the edge of the dugout where Josh stood. Sparky fixed his eyes on Josh. He held up the empty bottle.

  “Robinson, I was warned about your practical jokes,” Sparky said. “Don’t pull any more. Have all the fun you want with your regular team. I’m here to win the all-star game for the American League, and I’m going to do it with you or without you.”

  Josh took a step back. “Whoa! Coach, I—I didn’t have anything to do with that!” he sputtered. “Everyone knows that I like practical jokes. But I don’t know anything about that itching powder.”

  Sparky scowled and pointed a finger at Josh. “I won’t tolerate any jokes on my team,” he said. He slipped the bottle into his pocket and tramped down the stairs into the clubhouse. Still scratching his hip, Big D headed for the showers to wash off the itching powder.

  Andy pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand. “That’s not fair,” he said to Mike and Kate. “My dad didn’t do it!”

  “Nice job getting on the good side of our manager, Josh,” said one of the other players.

  “That’s Robert ‘Rocket’ Richards, from the Toronto Blue Jays,” Andy whispered to Kate and Mike. “He and my dad are the two catchers for the American League team. But the Rocket is a better hitter.”

  “Hey, Josh. Since you’re such an expert on itching powder, what do sheep use to scratch an itch?” the Rocket taunted Andy’s dad.

  Josh grimaced and shook his head. “I don’t know, Rocket. What?”

  The Rocket smiled. “A lamb post!” he said. “Get it? Instead of a lamppost. A lamb post!”

  Josh rolled his eyes. “Oh brother! I don’t need this,” he said. “I’m going to check my equipment.” He headed down the stairs to the clubhouse.

  “Aww, you’re just sore because you only hit three home runs in round one, and I hit eleven!” the Rocket gloated. “Looks like I’ll be moving on to the finals and you won’t!”

  Just then, a man with a jutting chin, slicked-back black hair, and a fancy white suit brushed by Mike. He strode up to the Rocket and whispered something in his ear.

  Kate tugged Mike’s sleeve. She headed down the baseline. “Hey, guys, they’re starting the final round,” Kate said. “It’s the Rocket versus Troy Young from the Colorado Rockies.” She plopped down on the grass near third base. Andy and Mike sat down, too, stretching out their legs and resting back on their hands.

  Troy Young went first. Mike, Kate, and Andy watched as he hit five more home runs. Young’s total for the three rounds was twenty-six. That meant the Rocket needed six home runs to win.

  As he walked back to the dugout, Young took off his hat and waved to the cheering fans. At the same time, the Rocket approached the plate. He stared out at the fountains in left field. He took a few practice swings and waited for the pitcher. The Rocket was all business.

  Kate plucked a short piece of grass and stuck it in her mouth. “I don’t know,” she said. “There’s something about him that I don’t like.”

  The Rocket’s first four hits were pop-ups. Then pitch after pitch, he waited patiently. Finally, he unloaded and hit four home runs in a row! The crowd went wild! He let two more pitches fly by and homered the next two.

  The Rocket had won the home run derby! And he still had six more outs to go! A chant of “Rock-et, Rock-et, Rock-et” started. He smiled for a moment, waved his right hand for quiet, and turned back to the plate. The Rocket finished after five more home runs. He ended up with a total of thirty-two home runs for the night.

  The Rocket swaggered off the field. Cameras clicked as he took a big swig of PowerPunch. He grabbed a towel and mopped his face. A few minutes later, an official presented him with a big silver trophy of two bats.

  The official led the Rocket to the press conference for all the home run derby hitters. Two long tables had been set up along the first-base line. Reporters stood nearby, waiting to ask players questions.

  Josh took a seat near the end. A player from the Milwaukee Brewers pulled out the chair next to him and sat down.

  CRACK!

  The chair splintered into pieces, and the Brewers player fell flat on his butt! Everyone roared with laughter. As he stood up and dusted himself off, two stadium workers quickly piled the pieces of the broken chair against the infield wall and brought over a replacement.

  “Oh, I guess Josh must have helped set up these chairs!” the Rocket said loud enough for everyone to hear.

  From under his hat, Sparky glared at Andy’s dad.

  Josh tried to avoid Sparky’s eyes. He looked at Andy, Kate, and Mike and shook his head.

  “Or maybe it was too much of that great Kansas City barbecue,” said Big D from the far end of th
e tables. “I know I had a lot of it last night! Now does anyone have questions for us?”

  The reporters dove in with their questions.

  Mike turned to Kate. She was frowning. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Kate said. “Something’s fishy here. I want to check out that chair.”

  Mike, Kate, and Andy sneaked over to the infield wall. They poked through the remains of the chair. Andy picked up a leg.

  “Guys! Look at this,” he whispered. He pointed to the end of the leg. “It’s a smooth cut here, and then there’s a big, jagged break!”

  “Someone used a saw to slice through it!” Mike said. “But they didn’t cut it completely. That way the chair would break when someone sat in it. It was sabotage!”

  Andy threw the chair leg to the ground. “There’s no way that my father did this,” he said. “He likes to pull pranks on people. But he wouldn’t do it at the home run derby or the all-star game. Someone’s trying to frame my dad!”

  The Tables Have Ears

  The next morning, Mike and Kate pulled open the doors to the hotel restaurant at eight o’clock.

  Mike rolled a baseball from hand to hand. “You really think this will work?” he asked.

  Kate nodded. “Yup. As long as we don’t get caught. How else are we going to find out what’s going on?”

  Mike and Kate were staying at the same hotel in Kansas City as the all-star players. The night before with Andy, they had come up with a plan to spy on the players during breakfast.

  They headed straight for a long breakfast buffet in the middle of the room.

  With a wink, Kate picked up a napkin from the buffet table. She and Mike paused to examine the breakfast items. Mike looked longingly at the strips of crispy bacon and the steaming piles of blueberry pancakes. Kate leaned over the rows of strawberry and cinnamon muffins as if she were trying to decide on one.

  “Ready?” she whispered. She glanced around the restaurant. The other people who had come in were busy finding tables.