The Reluctant Pitcher

by Matt Christopher

  The Huskies began rolling with their first batter. He socked one of Wally’s pitches in a clothesline drive over second for a two-bagger, then dashed to third on a neat single just out of first baseman Dick Lewis’s reach. By the time the Pacers got them out, the Huskies had scored three runs.

  In the second inning, the Huskies scored two more. With two outs and two men on base, Cab Lacey called time and shifted Wally to right field. He took out Alan Pierce and had Terry Towns go to the mound.

  Terry threw several warm-up pitches. Then the game resumed. The first batter blasted a hot grounder down to third. Rocky fielded it, then stepped on third for a force-out, and the bad inning was over.

  The bottom of the second inning began with the Pacers trailing the Huskies 5–0. J.J. was up. He waited out the pitcher, then banged a three-two pitch to center field. It was caught.

  Steve Collins walked. Dick Lewis hit into a double play, ending the inning.

  Terry looked relaxed and calm on the mound. He wasn’t as tall as either Dick Lewis or Wally, but he could throw hard. He held the Huskies hitless that inning.

  The fans cheered and gave Terry a big hand as he stepped up to the plate to lead off in the bottom of the third. He took a called strike, then blasted a pitch through short for a clean single. Chris flied out to left. Then Lee Benton came up and banged a double to left center, sending Terry around to third.

  Hope swelled in Wally as he picked up his favorite bat and swung it from one shoulder to the other. Unless something tragic happened, he would get to bat. He felt a lot better now that he was playing in right field.

  The fans yelled for Sawbones to hit, but he went down swinging.

  Wally stepped to the plate. There were men on second and third, and two outs.

  4

  Strike!”

  The ball brushed the outside corner of the plate.

  Wally got set again. A left-hand hitter, he stood with his legs slightly apart and the bat held high over his shoulder.

  In came the pitch. Knee high. Wally swung. Missed.

  “Strike two!” yelled the umpire.

  Wally stepped out of the box, bent over, and patted his sweaty hands in the dusty earth. Then he rubbed his hands together, took hold of the bat, and got back into the box.

  The next pitch was a ball.

  And then a pitch came in even with his knees and toward the outside corner of the plate. Wally swung.

  Crack! A hard-hit grounder past the pitcher! The ball bounced out to center field for a clean single. Terry scored. A moment later Lee scored. The throw-in was to second base, holding Wally up at first.

  The crowd cheered. Wally stood with both feet on the bag, his hands on his hips. He felt like smiling, but he didn’t. He had done what he had wanted to do. He had knocked in two runners.

  Rocky Newcome popped up to the catcher, ending the half-inning. But the scoreboard looked better now: 5–2 in favor of the Huskies.

  In the top of the fourth, a ground ball was hit past Dick Lewis for a double. The next Huskies’ batter blasted a pitch to deep right center. Wally and J.J. both ran hard after it. Wally got it, saw that the first runner was heading for home, and pegged the ball in.

  The ball didn’t reach Chris in time, and the runner scored. The hitter rounded second and made it safely to third on the throw-in.

  “No, Wally!” Cab Lacey jumped out of the dugout and shouted. “Not home! Third! Third was the play!”

  Wally’s throat ached. Third? Why? He had to try to stop the Huskies from getting that run, hadn’t he?

  Then he knew that Mr. Lacey was right. He had a good arm, but he could not possibly have gotten the runner going home. He should have thrown to third to keep the second runner from getting into an easy scoring position.

  The next Huskies’ batter knocked a fly out to left field. The runner tagged up and made it to home safely, proving exactly what Cab Lacey had had in mind.

  “Do you see what happened there, Wally?” Mr. Lacey said, as the half-inning ended. “If you had thrown the ball to third, you would have held the runner on second, because it was impossible to get that first runner out at home. If the man was on second, he would not have dared to take third on the fly. The throw would be too short for him to make it, and they would not have scored that last run.”

  “I see now,” admitted Wally.

  The Pacers managed to pick up two runs in the fifth. In the sixth, neither team scored. The game went to the Huskies, 7–4.

  “Practice your throw-ins from right field, Wally,” suggested Cab Lacey afterwards. “Just think ahead what to do with the ball if it comes to you. A good rule to follow is to throw ahead of the runner, not behind him. And throw overhand, not sidearm. Your ball won’t curve as much, and your throws will be more accurate.”

  “I’ll remember,” Wally promised.

  The next morning, Sawbones and Chris came over with their gloves. Wally got his glove and a bat and started out of the house through the back door.

  Sharon was in the yard doing acrobatics. She was wearing a red T-shirt, white shorts, and sneakers, and was spinning through the air frontwards and then backwards.

  “Look at that crazy sister of yours,” said Sawbones, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t do that for a million bucks.”

  “You couldn’t do that for a billion bucks,” replied Chris.

  They started toward the gate. All three of them stopped almost at the same time.

  A girl was standing on the sidewalk, watching Sharon with fascination.

  “Look,” whispered Wally. “There’s Helen Lacey.”

  5

  Helen glanced at the boys. Her face flushed. She turned and quickly started to walk down the street. Half of the time the heels of her shoes scraped against the sidewalk.

  “Who does she think she is?” Sawbones muttered disgustedly. “Won’t even speak.”

  “Maybe she’s shy,” said Wally.

  “Shy, nothing,” replied Sawbones, starting toward the gate. “Come on, let’s follow her. She’s going the same direction we’re going, anyway.”

  Wally and Chris were close on Sawbones’s heels as he opened the gate and hurried out.

  “Who is she?” asked Chris as the three of them tried to keep up with the girl. She was walking swiftly, her blond hair bobbing on her head and her heels scraping the sidewalk more than ever.

  “Cab Lacey’s daughter,” answered Wally. “Guess she’s either shy or stuck-up.”

  “She’s stuck-up, that’s what she is,” said Sawbones. “She probably thinks she’s so pretty.”

  “I don’t think she’s so pretty,” said Chris.

  “Hey, Lacey!” yelled Sawbones. “What are you so stuck-up about?”

  “Oh, cut it out, Sawbones,” said Wally. “If she wants to be stuck-up, that’s her business. She might never speak to us now.”

  Helen turned right at the end of the block and started to cross the street. There were no streetlights, just a stop sign. The town had only one main street and this was it. All out-of-town traffic flowed through here.

  Helen glanced quickly to the left and right before stepping off the curb. Then she looked straight ahead.

  A moment later, Wally heard a truck rev its motor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the vehicle pull away from the curb. It was moving fast as it passed the boys and headed toward the intersection.

  Just then, Helen stumbled. One of her shoes fell off. Wally expected her to pick it up and finish crossing the street. But she didn’t. To his horror, she stooped down and started wiggling her foot back into her shoe!

  “Hey, get out of the way! There’s a truck coming!” Wally cried.

  “You nut, get back!” shouted Sawbones.

  But she didn’t move from her hunched-over position in the middle of the road.

  Wally didn’t wait another second. He dashed into the street and hauled Helen to her feet just as the air brakes of the truck screeched. The truck came to a full stop a mere three feet from where they
were standing.

  Helen stared open-mouthed, first at the truck, then at Wally. Wally grabbed her shoe and tugged her gently to the other side of the street. Once the truck had passed, Sawbones and Chris hurried over.

  “What are you, crazy?” Sawbones yelled at the girl. “How come you stopped in the middle of the street like that?”

  She didn’t say anything. She just sat abruptly on the edge of the curb. Even though her back was to them, Wally could see that she was still frightened.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” he said. She didn’t move. The boys looked at one another. Wally shrugged and held out her shoe. “Come on, put this on and you’ll be fine.”

  She still didn’t react. Suddenly Wally had a thought. He crouched down beside her and touched her lightly on the arm. She started, then swiveled her head to look at him.

  “Here’s your shoe,” Wally said slowly. She stared intently at his mouth as he spoke, then held her hand out for her shoe. He handed it over, and she smiled gratefully.

  Sawbones shook his head. “She can’t even say thank you,” he said disgustedly. “How stuck-up can you get?”

  She didn’t turn to look at him. Not right away. Not until Wally glanced up at him. Then she looked.

  And at that moment, Wally understood. He knew why she hadn’t heard the truck or their warning calls.

  “You — you can’t hear, can you?” Wally asked carefully.

  Helen was looking at his lips again. And then she shook her head no.

  6

  Wally, Chris, and Sawbones began practicing at the baseball field. Sawbones knocked out flies to Wally. Wally pegged them back in to him, trying hard to make the ball strike the ground in front of Chris so that Chris could catch the first bounce.

  A little while later, a couple other guys showed up. Wally asked one of them to get on second, the other on third. He practiced throwing to them. When he saw his throws curving to the left, he remembered Cab Lacey’s suggestion to throw overhand instead of sidearm.

  He tried it a few times and found that his throws were more accurate, especially when throwing to second and pegging the real long ones to third.

  Cab Lacey sure knew what he was talking about. Remembering that conversation made Wally think about Cab Lacey’s daughter.

  She wasn’t stuck-up at all. Sawbones had been wrong.

  Sawbones had apparently been thinking the same thing. When the boys took a break, he said he was feeling bad about the terrible things he’d yelled at Helen. “I wish I could swallow my own tongue sometimes,” he moaned.

  Wally laughed. “Look on the bright side. Maybe something awful will happen to you as punishment for your evil ways!” he said jokingly.

  “I wish!” Sawbones replied.

  Most of the boys got tired after two hours and quit. Sawbones wanted to keep on practicing. But Sawbones . . . he’d practice all day long if he had someone to practice with. He’d never quit.

  On Wednesday the Pacers played the Fireballs. Pitching for the Fireballs was Kim Shields, who was the best pitcher in the entire league. He was chalking up more strikeouts than any other pitcher.

  Luke Hutter wasn’t back yet from his Chicago trip, so Cab Lacey coached the Pacers again. Wally was glad when he saw Dick Lewis warming up with Chris. That meant that Dick would be pitching and Wally would be in the outfield.

  The Fireballs had first raps. Dick mowed them down — one, two, three. Lee, leading off for the Pacers, flied out. Then Sawbones went down swinging for Kim Shields’s first strikeout.

  Wally, batting third, watched Kim’s first two pitches carefully. He took a 1 and 1 count. Kim was a tall right-hander who looked older than he was. He had a sidearm delivery that frightened a lot of batters because the ball shot toward the plate. The batter often thought the ball was coming directly at him. He would step back and zip! A strike.

  Kim stretched and delivered. Wally watched the ball closely. It was heading for the outside corner of the plate. Wally swung. Ball met bat near the fat end and shot like a bullet down toward third. The third baseman was playing too far to his left and couldn’t field the ball. Wally crossed first base for a single.

  Rocky Newcome socked a long drive to center, but it was caught for the third out.

  The Fireballs took the lead in the second inning by scoring a run. In the third inning they fattened their margin by putting across two more.

  Leading 3–0, the Fireballs began acting very confident. They strutted out to the field like bantam roosters in their white uniforms with red trim and red caps. So far Kim Shields had netted five strikeouts. The Pacers had only three hits, and two of them were singles off the bat of Wally Morris.

  J.J. Adams led off in the bottom of the fourth. He leaped out of the box on Kim’s first pitch to keep from getting hit, then fouled off three straight pitches. He took two balls for a count of 3 and 2, then leaned into a high pitch and sent it blasting out to deep left center.

  The fans jumped to their feet as the ball headed for the fence. It sure looked as if it were going over. Instead it struck the fence about a foot from the top and bounced back. The left fielder raced after it, picked it up, and pegged it to third. By that time J.J. was safely there, a neat triple to his credit.

  “Come on, boys. Let’s get ’em,” Cab Lacey kept saying. He was rubbing his face and his nose as he sat there in the dugout. Wally guessed what he was thinking. This was the second game Cab Lacey had coached in Luke Hutter’s absence. He had lost the first one; now he was losing the second. Luke Hutter might not like that at all.

  They couldn’t score any more that inning. In the top of the fifth, the Fireballs really got on to Pacers pitcher Dick Lewis. With two outs, they hit two singles in a row. The third was a line drive right between Dick’s legs. J.J. made a perfect peg from center to the pitcher’s mound, keeping a runner from scoring.

  Cab called time. He had Terry Towns warming up in the bull pen. He walked out to Dick, put his arm around his shoulders, and walked off the field with him. The way Dick lowered his head and smacked the ball into the pocket of his glove, you knew exactly how he felt. The Pacers’ fans cheered him.

  Terry went in and threw some warm-up pitches to Chris, then the game resumed.

  The pitch sizzled in. Sock! A blow to right field! It was high — higher than Wally had ever seen hit to right on this field before.

  Wally ran back, keeping his eye on the ball. Man, it was high.

  The ball looked blurry for a moment. It was coming down. It looked so small, like a white pill.

  Wally held out his glove. Smack! The ball struck the side of his glove — and bounded to the ground!

  A shrill cry rose from the Pacers’ fans. A cry of utter dismay!

  “Oh, Wally!” J.J. groaned from center field.

  Wally picked up the ball and pegged it as hard as he could to home. The first run scored. The second runner tried to score, too, but the throw was perfect and Chris tagged him out.

  “Tough luck, Wally,” said Cab Lacey as Wally ran in from the field. “That was a pretty high ball.”

  “Let’s get those runs back,” said Rocky Newcome. “That Kim isn’t so hot.”

  Lee started it off with a single. Sawbones flied out. Wally kept it going with a double, his third hit of the game, scoring Lee. Rocky singled, scoring Wally, but that was as far as they went. J.J. popped out to the pitcher, and Pete Jason, pinch-hitting for Steve Collins, struck out.

  The Fireballs couldn’t do a thing in the top of the sixth. But neither could the Pacers when they came to bat. The game went to the Fireballs, 4–3.

  7

  The Pacers were at the field again on Saturday morning. Cab Lacey was there, and so was Luke Hutter. Mr. Hutter had flown back from his business trip the day before.

  From the expression on Luke Hutter’s face, Wally knew that something was bothering him. But Coach Hutter didn’t say anything. Not until Cab Lacey mentioned it to him first.

  The men were standing in a corner of the dugout. Most of t
he team had taken their positions in the field. Wally had stopped to tie his shoe outside the dugout. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but then he heard his name.

  “Guess Wally Morris’s faith in my coaching didn’t bear out,” Cab said. “We lost both games.”

  Luke Hutter, ready with a bat and ball to start hitting grounders to the infielders, cleared his throat.

  “I don’t mind that too much, Cab,” he said. “That could happen even with me coaching. But why did you put him in right field?”

  “That’s the position he can play best,” Mr. Lacey answered.

  “Because Wally said so? He’s a bashful boy, Cab. He just thinks he can play right better than he can pitch. But that boy can throw. He has the physique of a pitcher. And he’s left-handed. He has everything a kid needs to be a great pitcher when he gets older.”

  “Tall left-handers make good outfielders, too, Luke,” replied Mr. Lacey. “There’s nothing wrong in letting Wally play right field. With that arm of his, he can throw a man out at third and at home. And he hits better when he’s in the outfield because he’s more confident in that position. He got three for three against the Fireballs.”

  “Yes. And he missed a fly ball that gave the game to them, too,” Luke Hutter answered quickly.

  “He made a good try,” said Mr. Lacey. “That ball was real high.”

  “Cab,” Luke said, “let’s not stand here and argue about it like a couple of old fools. I’ve had a lot of baseball experience. I can tell who could make it as a pitcher and who could make it as an outfielder. I think that if Wally played any position other than pitcher, he’d lose out on his best opportunity in baseball.”

  Wally was hurt that Cab Lacey was blamed for putting him in the outfield, and embarrassed that they were talking about him. He picked up a ball and had started away when Mr. Lacey called him back.

  “There you are, Wally. Say, do you know who Mr. Hutter played with? Some professional team?”