Mrs. Finch looked hard at Don. “I doubt that, Don,” she said. “But to show you that I’m not bullheaded, I will have Mr. Finch bring me.”
The Finches left, and the boys broke out in laughter.
“Bet she won’t be there,” said Rex.
“Oh, yes, she will,” said David. “You don’t know Mrs. Finch!”
That evening the Penwood Times carried a short article in the sports section about the Flickers-Canaries game.
Big guns for the Flickers were Marty Cass and Bonesy Lane with four and three hits respectively. David Kroft, the Flickers’ third baseman, smashed out a triple against the left center field fence that brought in two runs. Then he scored on a single by Steve Pierce.
It was a great victory for the Flickers. This was the first game the Canaries had lost out of eight.
The box score:
AB H RBI R
Lacey 2b 4 1 0 1
Hines rf 3 2 0 1
dSimmons rf 1 1 0 1
Merrill lb 4 0 0 0
Drake c 2 1 0 2
Cass If 4 4 2 0
Lane ss 4 3 2 1
Mulligan 3b 1 0 0 0
aKroft3b 3 1 2 1
Hill cf 1 0 0 0
bPierce cf 2 2 1 0
Lodge p 2 1 0 0
cHines p 1 0 0 0
Totals 32 16 7 7
a — Flied out for Mulligan in 4th; b — Singled for Hill in 4th; c — Flied out for Lodge in 5th; d — Singled for Hines in 6th.
Flickers . . . 0 1 2 0 3 1 — 7
Canaries . . . 2 1 1 1 0 1 — 6
12
THE weather was chilly Friday morning, the day the Flickers were to play the Bluebirds. By noon it was warmer. But the sky remained gray and overcast. David hoped it would not rain.
It didn’t.
Again the game started with him on the bench and Legs on third base. David wondered what Don would think. Don was sitting in the stands with Ann Marie, Mom and Dad.
Jerry was on the mound for the Flickers. He had trouble getting the ball over the plate that first inning. His southpaw deliveries were mostly outside. He walked two men before he found the plate. Then the Bluebirds began to hit the ball, and two runs scored before the Flickers could get them out.
The Flickers evened the score, though, with a walk by Ken, a single by Jimmy and a double off the bat of Rex Drake.
Legs, leading off in the second inning, struck out. But then another hitting spree started, and the Flickers chalked up three more runs.
The Bluebirds scored once at their turn at bat, then held the Flickers from getting a runner past first. The first two outs were on a double play by the shortstop. He snared Bonesy’s line drive and threw out Marty Cass at first before Marty could tag up on the play. Then Legs grounded out to second.
The Bluebirds kept hitting and scoring, but so did the Flickers. It was a ball game with lots of noise from the people in the grandstand.
Suddenly David heard a voice that was kind of familiar, although he was sure he had never heard it at the ball park before.
“Come on, Jerry! Hit that ball! Sock it over the fence!”
The voice was coming from someone behind the dugout. It was a loud voice. And it was a woman’s.
David smiled. He knew who that woman was.
Jerry didn’t sock one over the fence. But later on Rex Drake did with two men on bases. When it was Legs Mulligan’s turn at bat, Coach Beach had David pinch-hit for him. David blasted a double. But he died on second as Windy Hill flied out to center.
The Bluebirds hit two to David that inning as if they had hoped he would get into the game to help them out. David missed the first one, a hot grounder to his left side.
“Come on, David!” yelled a fan. “A Kroft isn’t supposed to miss an easy grounder like that!”
David blushed.
The second was a high bouncing ball, which he caught. Quickly he pegged the ball to second, forcing out the runner. Second baseman Jimmy Merrill whipped the ball to first, and the hitter was out on a nice double play.
“Now you’re looking like a Kroft!” cried the same voice.
“Thataboy, David!” yelled another voice. “Fine play!”
That was Mrs. Finch. She caught his eye and waved to him. He smiled and waved back. It was almost impossible to believe that she was sitting there in the stands, yelling as if she were a regular baseball fan. Beside her was Mr. Finch. He was looking at her and grinning, too.
Just behind them sat Ann Marie, Don, Dad and Mom. All four of them were laughing heartily over the way Mrs. Finch shouted and jumped excitedly on the seat.
Dad said something to Mrs. Finch, and she turned and looked around at him. Then she looked away from Dad and didn’t make a peep for almost half an inning. Afterward she started in yelling again, and for the rest of the game Dad didn’t say any more to her.
Maybe, thought David, she was going to like baseball after all. And Dad certainly would not want to discourage her.
The Flickers led 10 to 7 going into the sixth inning. The Bluebirds put one run across, but that was all. The Flickers won it 10 to 8.
David saw Dad and the rest of the family walking out of the ballpark with Mr. and Mrs. Finch. Everyone was laughing except Mrs. Finch. Which was natural.
At home David said, “Do you think Mrs. Finch has changed her mind about baseball, Dad? She sure did a lot of hollering at the game.”
Dad smiled. “She didn’t want to admit it when I asked her that same question,” replied Dad. “However, I think her crust isn’t as hard as she pretends it is.”
Dad bowled at eight o’clock. Usually, David and Ann Marie went with him on Friday nights. Tonight, Ann Marie stayed home, and David and Don went.
“Well,” said Dad as he started to sit down to put on his bowling shoes, “look in Lane Number Four. Am I seeing things, or is that really her?”
The boys stared.
Bowling in Lane Number Four was Mrs. Finch! Of course Mr. Finch was bowling, too. But everyone in Penwood knew that Mr. Finch bowled.
“Just a minute,” said Dad. He went over to the Finches and watched Mrs. Finch throw the big black ball down the lane. The ball knocked down three pins. Mrs. Finch snapped her fingers disgustedly, turned around and stopped. She was staring at Dad.
“Mr. Kroft,” she said, “are you spying on me?”
Dad laughed. “This is my bowling night, too,” he said. Then he added, “Mrs. Finch, is it possible that you’re becoming soft? That you really don’t think sports are so bad after all?”
Mrs. Finch glared at him. “I won’t answer that question,” she said, “on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”
She turned to David and Don, her eyes snapping. “Your father,” she said, “just loves to argue!”
The boys burst out laughing. They knew that Mrs. Finch was really having a wonderful time.
13
IN the next two games David showed improvement at third base. He even passed Bonesy in a one-hundred-yard sprint. He knew he would never be as good a ballpayer as Dad, or Don, or any of the other Kroft boys, though.
He was a fair hitter. After that last game his batting average was .289. But even Don hinted that David wasn’t doing as well as he should at the hot corner.
“Sometimes you’re playing the ball as if you’re depending a lot on the shortstop,” said Don. “You can’t do that. You must go after every ball you can.”
On Sunday afternoon — the first Sunday of August — David and Bonesy went bike riding in the country. It was a lovely day, and they hadn’t taken a long trip on their bikes in weeks.
The sun was bright and hot. As the boys pedaled along the road, the trees on the distant hills looked purple and blue. A field of buttercups sparkled like a sea of yellow dust.
They arrived at a picnic area, rested, then rode on.
At last they reached a small village. They bought a bottle of Coke each to quench their thirsts, then got on their bikes and started back for home.
&nbs
p; They took their time. They were not in a hurry. They talked about baseball — about their own team and also the major leagues. They talked about David’s coin collection and about Mrs. Finch. They talked about Don’s bad leg and whether he would ever be as good a ballplayer as before. They talked about a lot of things.
Before they realized it, they were back in Penwood. And the long ride had made them hungry.
They rode up the sidewalk, Bonesy riding behind David. Finally, Bonesy turned up the street on which he lived.
“See you later, David,” he said.
“Okay,” said David.
It had been a long, pleasant ride. And it seemed to have ended so quickly.
David rode on.
A dog began to bark behind him. David looked back and recognized a new dog in the neighborhood. It belonged to the Elwoods.
Let him bark, thought David.
Soon he reached the corner where the Finches’ big white house stood.
Just as he started to turn the corner, the dog ran up beside him. His bark turned into a growl, and he lunged at David’s leg.
David swerved so quickly that he lost control of the bike. The bike swerved into the Finches’ yard and struck the statue of a boy holding up a sign with the finches printed on it.
The statue fell over and struck the sidewalk leading up to the Finches’ front porch.
It crashed into many pieces.
14
DAVID looked in dismay at the pieces and then at the Finches’ house. There was no one on the porch. No one looking from a window.
He turned around. The dog that had caused him to run into the statue was trotting down the sidewalk, returning home quietly as if he were satisfied with the job he had done.
David yanked out the kickstand of his bike and parked it on the walk. He went up to the house, trembling all the way. He knocked on the door.
There was no answer. He knocked again. Still no answer.
He went back to his bike, took it home and told Mom what he had done.
“It was an accident,” said Mom. “Don’t feel so badly about it. Just tell Mrs. Finch exactly what happened.”
“But what about the statue?” asked David. “I’ll probably have to pay for that.”
Mom nodded. “I’m afraid somebody will have to pay for it,” she said.
“I’d better put the pieces in a box,” said David.
Just after noontime Mr. and Mrs. Finch came home in their car. David saw them get out and go look at the box on the walk and what was left of the broken statue. He saw the expressions on their faces. And he had a good idea of what Mrs. Finch must be saying.
A little while later he went over there. He knocked on the door. Mrs. Finch answered it.
“Why, hello, David,” she greeted him pleasantly. “Come in.”
He stepped into the house. He was trembling again, more than before.
“Mrs. Finch,” he said, “that statue out there. I broke it with my bike. A dog chased me, and I ran into it.”
“Oh,” she said. “Mr. Finch and I wondered what could have happened.”
David held out the paper sack he held in his hand. “That statue must have cost a lot of money, Mrs. Finch,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to ask my dad to pay for it. I’ll pay for it with my own money.”
“What is this, David?” asked Mrs. Finch as she took the paper sack from him.
“It’s my quarter coin collection. There are some missing, but I think there are enough there to pay for the statue. If there aren’t —” He paused.
Mrs. Finch had the folder open, looking at the coins. She didn’t say anything for a long while. Then she cleared her throat and smiled.
“No, David,” she said. “I can’t accept this. This is something special. Something you have worked a long time for.”
“That’s all right, Mrs. Finch,” said David. “I have a dime collection, too. And I can start in with quarters any time. Please take them.”
Mrs. Finch smiled. “Okay, David. If you insist. Thank you very much. And thank you for coming over and telling me about it. If you hadn’t, we — well, we probably would never have found out.”
David left the house. His heart was heavy. He had spent a long, long time collecting those coins.
15
THE next day, Monday, the Flickers played the Canaries. There was one more game — on Wednesday — and the season would be over.
The Canaries had the league pretty well sewed up. They had nine wins and only one loss. The Flickers had seven wins and three losses. The Flickers were in second place.
Coach Beach started David at third. He had moved him up in the lineup, too. David was to bat fifth, right after Rex Drake.
The game started, and for the first two innings David didn’t get a ball at third. He wished he would. He felt sure he could catch almost any grounder that came to him. Playing nearly all summer and practicing almost every day made him feel that way.
In the third he got one. A hard grounder that was hit straight at him. He caught the hop, pegged to first, and the runner was out.
Then, with two on, a ground ball was hit to him again. This one he fumbled! By the time he picked it up it was too late.
He looked around quickly. The two runners on bases had not dared to advance. The bases were now loaded.
Mandy Rubens, the Canaries’ slugger, pounded out a single. Two runs scored. That was all the Canaries got that inning. But it was enough to put them one ahead of the Flickers.
David had more chances at third and handled them without a bobble. Coach Beach made substitutions but, much to David’s surprise, left David in the game.
The Flickers tied it up in the fifth, 7 to 7. The Flickers’ fans began to yell louder than ever. David could not mistake one of the voices especially. Mrs. Finch’s.
Nobody would have believed it — but it was true. She had become a baseball fan.
The Flickers were up in the bottom of the sixth and won it when Rex pounded out a long triple with Jimmy Merrill on first base. It was a glorious victory.
Score: Flickers 8; Canaries 7.
“Played fine out there, brother, boy,” Don said as they walked out of the ballpark.
David wasn’t too pleased.
“That error I made cost us two runs,” he said. “That wasn’t good.”
“But a lot of balls came to you after that, and you caught them,” said Don. “And you got two hits. That’s very good, brother.”
The coach started David again in the Bluebirds game on Wednesday. The Bluebirds had had a very poor season. They had won only one game so far and lost nine.
Southpaw Jerry Hines pitched against them and had difficulty from the very first inning.
When he walked a man, the next hitter would bunt. David certainly had a workout at third during those early innings. Jerry fielded one bunt, which was laid down between the pitcher’s box and first base. But the others were directed to third.
The bunts helped the Bluebirds. The score was tied 2 and 2 going into the top of the fifth inning. This was a surprise to the Flickers’ fans. They had expected the game to be a runaway for their team.
Rex, leading off, smashed out a double. David followed it up with another double, scoring Rex. Marty Cass got on when the second baseman missed a pop fly. The Flickers’ fans cheered lustily. It looked as if this was going to be the Flickers’ big inning.
Then things began to go wrong for the Flickers. Bonesy tried to bunt to advance the runners. His bunt turned out to be a blooping fly-ball to the pitcher. The pitcher caught it and whipped it to first before Marty could get back. Windy grounded out, and that was it.
The Bluebirds’ leadoff man doubled to start things well for them. The next hitter drove a hard sizzling grounder to third, just inside the bag. David dove after it. The ball struck his glove and glanced off into foul territory. He got up, raced after it and picked it up. He saw the runner bolting for home and pegged the ball.
It zipped through the air straight as a
string for Rex’s mitt. The Bluebirds’ player hit the dirt just as Rex caught the ball and put it on him.
“Out!” cried the umpire.
The Flickers’ fans went wild.
“Thataway to throw that ball, David boy!”
“Nice stop, David!”
He could hear Don and Dad and Ann Marie and Mom. And amid all those shouts he heard Mrs. Finch, too.
In the sixth the Flickers picked up another run to make it 4 to 2. The Bluebirds put one across at their time at bat, but that was all they could do. They lost to the Flickers, 4 to 3, in a game that was thrilling to the very last out.
“Beautiful play you made there on third, David,” said Don, as he hobbled on his crutches alongside his brother.
“Thanks. But I’ll never be a real good ballplayer,” said David. “Never as good as you. Nor Dad. Nor any of our uncles.”
“You have time,” said Don. “You’re still young, brother.”
Dad put an arm around David’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about being real good, son,” he said. “You did the best you can, and that’s all anyone expects.”
“You should have heard Mrs. Finch yelling,” chimed in Ann Marie. “She sure rooted for you, David!”
“I sure did,” said a voice behind them.
They looked around, and there was Mrs. Finch herself, and Mr. Finch. “You played a fine game, David.”
“Thanks.” David grinned.
“By the way, I’d like to have you stop at our house before you go home. Can you do that?”
Uh-oh! She has another job for Bonesy and me, thought David. Well, baseball season was all over with. It would make no difference how late they were now.
“I think so,” he said. He looked at Mom and Dad. They smiled and nodded. It was all right with them.
“How about riding back with us?” suggested Mr. Finch.
David smiled. “Okay.”
They arrived at the house. Mrs. Finch asked David to sit down. He sat there, his cap in his hand, while Mrs. Finch stepped out of the room. Mr. Finch talked to him about the game a bit, then Mrs. Finch returned. She was holding a paper sack in her hand.
Too Hot to Handle Page 5
