The Indians’ pitcher threw a fast one down the center of the plate. Larry let it go, hardly lifting the bat from his shoulder. The next one looked as if it was heading for the same place. This time Larry shifted his right foot and brought his bat around in a hard swing. Crack! His bat met the ball and sent it sailing out to right field!
He ran to first, his long thin legs looking like something in a slow-motion picture, but Marvin could see he was covering ground fast. He circled first base, ran to second and stopped there, standing on the bag with both feet and his hands on his hips. The people roared.
Kenny Stokes, the lead-off man, was up again. He swung at the first ball. It dribbled in a slow grounder toward the pitcher, who fielded it and threw it easily to first.
Larry ran off second base a short distance, then ran back.
Marvin’s turn came again. He walked to the plate, his feet feeling like lead weights. He had another bat this time, though he was sure it would not do any good.
“Come on, Marvin!” the boys on the bench yelled. “Bring Larry in! Bring him in!”
His heart was jumping. If he got a hit now probably Larry could make it home to tie the score. Everybody would forget his fanning out in that first inning. He dug his sneakers into the soft dirt — boys in the Grasshoppers League were not supposed to wear cleated shoes — and waited for the pitch.
It came in a little high, but it didn’t look bad. Marvin cut at it. He heard a crack! as the bat met the ball. A blooper that looked as big as a balloon floated through the air toward the pitcher! Marvin threw down the bat, and started running slowly toward first.
“Run, Marvin!” he heard Jim shout. “Run!”
But the ball dropped into the pitcher’s hands. Sadly, Marvin turned and headed back for the bench.
Nobody said anything to him, but he saw Rick suddenly rise from the bench and go toward Jim Cassell. Rick said something to Jim, then Jim turned and spoke to another boy on the bench.
“Artie, play catch with somebody,” Marvin heard him say. “You’re going in in place of Marvin next inning.” He looked up at Marvin. “Marvin — “
“I heard you, Jim,” Marvin said. As Rick started back toward his seat on the bench he came face to face with Marvin. Marvin’s eyes hardened. His cheeks grew red.
“If you’d give my bat back to me,” he said angrily, “I could hit that ball! You’re a thief, that’s what you are! You stole my bat!”
12
RICK’s face paled and his mouth opened as if he was going to say something. But Marvin was already running out along the left field foul line, his eyes to the ground, not looking right or left. He had to get away from here, just as fast as he could. Someone yelled after him — it sounded like Jim’s voice — but he paid no attention to it. He found his glove in the outfield where he had dropped it, picked it up, and kept on running.
He wondered what Jeannie and his mother and father would say. Well — what could they say? They could see that he could not hit the ball. It wasn’t any more than right that he was taken out.
He saw a fat, chubby-legged little boy run out into the street chasing after a blue-and-red rubber ball. He wasn’t over three years old — a little towhead.
A car whizzed around the corner, its tires screaming on the pavement. Marvin stared at it and then at the little boy. Sudden terror took hold of him. The fat little boy wasn’t paying any attention to the car!
Suddenly the loud cry of a woman reached Marvin’s ears. “Gary! Gary, get back here! Watch that car!”
There was fear in her voice. Marvin saw her standing in the doorway, one hand clutching her apron, the other on her chest. “Gary!” she screamed again.
The little boy did not move. Realizing that the car would not be able to stop in time, Marvin dove out into the street and picked up the boy, snatching him out of the way.
The car’s brakes were squealing. The tires left twin black marks on the street. Then it stopped, and a man looked out of the window, his face ghost-white.
“Boy!” he exclaimed. “That was close!”
“I’ll say it was!” said Marvin, with a shudder. The little boy started to cry and Marvin carried him to his mother, who was running toward them from the house. He saw that the back yard of the house faced his back yard.
“Thank you!” she said to Marvin. “Thank you so much!” Marvin saw her white face as she bent and picked up her little son.
A tall, brown-haired man ran out of the house then, followed by a freckle-faced boy who was a year or two younger than Marvin. The boy’s shirt was torn, and his corduroy pants had a long rip in one knee. Shakily, the woman told her husband what had happened. The husband looked at Marvin gratefully.
“That was quick thinking, son,” he said. “You sure make us very happy, going after little Gary like that. Sometime I’ll see that you get something for this.”
Marvin smiled. “That’s all right,” he said. “I’m glad I came by when I did.”
He went home, feeling happy at the man’s words.
He had hardly been home five minutes when a soft knock sounded on the door. He knew it wasn’t Daddy or Mother. They wouldn’t knock.
Wondering, he went to the door and opened it. It was the freckle-faced boy whose little brother he had saved from the path of the car. He was holding a bat in his hand — lifting it up to Marvin.
Marvin’s eyes went wide. It was his missing bat!
13
AT the ball field the next afternoon, just before practice, Marvin approached Rick. He had a lump in his throat.
“Rick, I — I’m sorry that I said you had my bat. I got it back yesterday. Freckles Ginty was the one who took it out of my yard.”
Rick looked at him a moment before he said anything. Finally he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Okay. You got it back. Maybe you can hit that ball now.”
Marvin felt the sarcasm in his voice. He wondered if he and Rick would ever be friends. He wished they would be. Rick was tough in a way, but everybody liked him. He usually wanted his way about things, but he was almost always right, too — and he was a good ballplayer. Someday, Marvin thought, Rick might play in the big leagues.
“Did you go in their house?” Rick said suddenly. Marvin had started to turn away, but now that Rick spoke he turned back.
“No,” he said. “But Mr. and Mrs. Ginty look like awfully nice people.”
“They are. You should see some of the things Mr. Ginty makes out of wood. Freckles showed me once.”
“Nice?”
“Nice? Sometime have Freckles take you in his house. He’ll show you!”
“I will!” smiled Marvin.
Thursday afternoon they had another Grasshoppers League game. It was with the Bears. Jim had Artie play instead of Marvin. Artie hit a slow roller the first time up, and was put out. In the field he missed a fly ball that scored a runner for the Bears.
“He can’t catch or hit,” Kenny Stokes said. “At least, Marv could catch that ball!”
Marvin felt pleased to hear Kenny say that. He was sitting on the bench, holding the bat in his hand. His own bat. He had told Jim that he had finally gotten it back, trying to hint that now he would be able to hit. But Jim had only grinned and said that he was glad.
Marvin fidgeted on the bench. He wished Jim would let him take Artie’s place. He felt sure he could hit now.
Then all at once Jim called to him. “Okay, Marvin. Go out to left field!”
14
MARVIN dropped his bat under the bench, picked up his glove, and ran out to left field. A fly ball came out to him. He caught it easily.
When it was time to bat he wasn’t nervous any more. The bat felt just right in his hand. He felt good. He waited for the pitcher’s throw — and the very first pitch he hit for a single!
The crowd yelled. He could hear Jim’s voice — “Thataboy, Marv! I knew you could do it!”
Finally came the sixth inning, the important moment, with the score 8 to 6 in the Bears’ favor. The
bases were loaded. Marvin again was up to bat. A hit could tie the score. A good long drive could win the ball game. Many a time Marvin had thought of a moment like this, when he would come to the plate with three on. Now it had really happened.
Before he got into the box he rested his bat on the ground, reached down and rubbed some dirt into his palms to dry off the sweat. He had seen Barry do that. Then he picked up the bat and stepped into the box. The pitcher stepped onto the mound, looked at the runner on third, then lifted his arm and threw the ball toward the plate.
It was chest-high. It looked good to Marvin. He put his left foot forward and brought back his bat. He swung, and the crack! sounded throughout the park as bat met ball.
Like a white bullet the ball shot over the shortstop’s head. Marvin dropped the bat and scampered for first. The ball hit the grass halfway between the left fielder and the center fielder, who both ran as fast as they could after it. It bounced on beyond them!
One run scored! Two! Three! Marvin ran in from third. One of the fielders picked up the ball and heaved it in. But it was too late.
Marvin crossed the plate — a home run!
It won the game — 10 to 8.
15
THE bat was lucky, all right. Marvin kept on hitting the ball in every game. Jim placed him third in the batting order, just before Rick. At the end of their fifth game his batting average was .453 and Rick’s .422. Barry Welton came to see Marvin play whenever he wasn’t playing himself. Of course, Jeannie and his mother and daddy never missed a ball game.
Then one day Jim Cassell called Marvin aside. It was after they had won a game that put them in the lead five wins to one loss. Marvin held his bat and glove in his hands as he looked up at Jim. He felt very happy. He had made three hits today, and had walked once. A perfect day at the plate!
Jim said, “Marvin, I’ve some nice news for you. How would you like to appear on television tonight?”
Marvin’s heart jumped. “On television?”
Jim grinned. “Jerry Walker’s sports program. He called me up last night. Says he sees by the papers that you’re hitting the ball like a major leaguer, and he would like to have you on his program. He would like to ask you a few questions, I suppose.”
“Boy! If it’s okay with my mother and daddy — I sure would!”
He was bursting with pride when he told the news to them in the car. Their faces brightened with happiness. Jeanie clapped her hands.
“Wait till I tell Annie and Grace!” she cried. “They’ve got TV sets!”
“Well, you haven’t said if I could go,” Marvin murmured anxiously.
“Of course you can!” Mother exclaimed, and she pulled out a small handkerchief and wiped her eyes. Daddy smiled big too, but he did not say much. He just gave Marvin a strong hug. Whenever he appreciated something Marvin or Jeannie did, that was what he would always do. Give them a strong hug.
“May I ask Barry to come with us?” Marvin said.
“Certainly,” his daddy said then. “You tell Barry and we’ll pick him up when we go.”
He saw Barry and shouted to him. Barry came over and Marvin told him what his daddy had suggested.
“That would be swell!” smiled Barry.
That night Marvin appeared on Jerry Walker’s program. Mother, Daddy, Jeannie and Barry sat in another room, watching through a huge plate-glass window. At first sight of the cameras and lights Marvin was a little frightened and nervous. But by the time the program started, and Jerry Walker talked to him, he felt better. Jerry asked him how long had he played ball? What was his batting average? What did his mother and father think of his playing baseball?
Finally Jerry mentioned his bat. “Jim Cassell tells me you have a bat you won’t let anybody else use,” he said. “You must think a lot of that bat, Marvin,” he added, smiling.
“I sure do,” Marvin answered. “It’s my lucky bat.”
16
WHEN August came, the Tigers and the Bears were tied for first place. The boys were growing more excited by the day. They kept talking about the World Series game. Jim Cassell told them not to let the excitement of it make them forget about playing good baseball. But Marvin and the rest could see that Jim was pretty excited, himself.
“We’ve three more games to play,” Jim said. “We must win two out of those three. If we win, we’re in!”
They started playing the first of the three games. For the first two innings neither team scored. Then the Bears got on by a bunted ball that caught the Tigers off guard. It must have worried the Tiger pitcher, Larry Munson, because he walked the next man. The third batter hit a single that scored one run. The next batter hit a double to make the score 2 to 0.
A fly went out to left field that Marvin caught easily. The next hitter banged a liner toward Billy Weston at third, who caught it and threw it to second. The runner on second had started to run, thinking it was going for a hit. He didn’t get back in time. The second baseman touched the base and the runner was out.
In the fourth inning the Tigers scored two runs to even it up. It stayed that way till the first half of the sixth. Larry was first batter and got a single, a nice one over first base. Kenny Stokes walked. Then Marvin came up, and everybody cheered.
He swung at the first pitch. Missed! The next one was a ball. The third was in there. He swung hard and hit it — a neat single — but something terrible happened.
The bat broke in two! One piece he had in his hand. The other was flying out across the ground toward third base!
17
MARVIN did not know what to do. Without his bat he was sure everything would be the way it was before. He would not be able to hit again, and Jim would take him out of the game.
There were only two games left to play. The Tigers had won one. They must win one more. If they lost the next two games their chance of seeing a World Series game was gone.
It was a cloudy day. Marvin stayed inside the house most of the time. He did not feel like going out. He did not feel like going anything. He wished the baseball season were all over so that there would not be any more ball games. With his bat broken he might as well quit playing. He would not go out on the ball field now. He knew he could not hit with any other bat. He just knew it.
“It isn’t the bat, son,” his daddy said to him. “It’s you. You’ve got it in your head that you can’t hit with any other bat, and you’re wrong.”
“But it’s true, Daddy!” Marvin cried. “I can’t hit with any other bat! I never could! Didn’t I try it before?”
His father put a hand on his shoulder, and looked him squarely in the eye. “Look, Marvin,” he said softly, “why do you think you can’t hit with another bat, and still you were able to hit with the one Barry gave you?”
Marvin shrugged. “I don’t know, Daddy. Maybe there was something about that bat.”
His daddy grinned. “Something lucky?”
He shrugged again. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You believe that bat was lucky?”
Marvin turned away. He wished his daddy would not talk about it any more. There was no use talking about it.
“I don’t know, Daddy. I just know that every time I used that bat I’d hit the ball. I didn’t always get a safety, but I’d hit it some place. I never did it with any other bat I used. Never!”
“Just try again,” his daddy said. “Just try again, Marvin.”
Marvin wished that it would rain on Friday, the day of their next game.
In the morning it looked as if it was going to rain. But in the afternoon the clouds cleared away and the sun came out bright and hot. Jim still had Marvin bat third. Jim had no idea that a bat made a difference. He was like Daddy.
The first two men up flied out. When Marvin came to the plate he let the first pitch go. It was a strike. He let the next one go. That was a ball. He ticked the third pitch, which made the count two and one. His heart beat faster. From the bench he could hear Jim and Rick yelling:
“Hit it,
Marvin! Hit it, boy!”
The fourth pitch came in. He swung — and struck out.
18
MARVIN dropped the bat and ran to the bench after his glove.
“Never mind that, Marv,” Jim said. “You’ll hit it the next time.”
Marvin didn’t say anything. When the next time came he would strike out again. Jim would find that out himself. Maybe he didn’t believe the bat made a difference, but it did with Marvin. There must have been something about that bat. Striking out his first time up with another bat proved it. How could anybody say it didn’t?
He caught a high fly ball that inning. The crowd cheered loudly, but it did not make him feel any happier.
When the Tigers came to bat again he did not have a chance to hit. The Bears’ pitcher was too good. He threw hooks that fooled the Tiger hitters. Even Rick struck out.
Marvin trotted back out to the field. That first inning had surely gone fast. The first Bears’ hitter stood at the plate and hardly took the bat off his shoulder. Larry was wild with him. Maybe it was because the batter was so small. Larry walked him.
The next batter hit a ground ball that Kenny missed at short. It rolled to the outfield. Marvin and the center fielder dashed after it. Marvin picked it up and threw it to third. Now there was a man on first and second. Marvin returned to his position in left field and wished no more balls would come out to him.
Crack!
Larry’s first pitch was hit for a long fly. It was coming Marvin’s way! Marvin got his eye on it and watched it sail into the blue sky. He stepped back a little, then forward, then back again. The ball seemed to be zigzagging. Then suddenly it was curving downward. It was falling fast — dizzily. Marvin put up his gloved hand.
The Lucky Baseball Bat Page 3
