“Well,” she said, taking his hand, “I think it’s terrific that you and Dan get to finish the year on the junior varsity squad. You start this week, right?”
“Yup. Coach Brayshaw told us he wants us in all seven games before the playoffs.” His voice held a trace of worry. “The team’s only three-and-four right now. Dan told me he figures we’d have to win five out of the seven regular games even to get into the tournament.”
“Oh, you will,” Lisa said easily. “With you hitting and me rooting on the sidelines, how can you miss?”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “This is varsity pitching, remember. Which I’ve never hit before.”
“No sweat,” she assured him. “You’ll see.”
On Tuesday Bucky donned his new JV jersey with a mixture of excitement and fear. He’d finally gotten the opportunity he’d prayed for, and now anxiety was beginning to creep in. Would he be able to live up to Coach Brayshaw’s lofty expectations?
Dan Litton breezed in a few minutes late. Grinning smugly, he accepted his colorful baseball shirt and began to suit up.
Bucky sat down beside him. “How d’ya feel, slugger?”
Dan shrugged. “Hey, same as always.” He gave his laces a tug. “Baseball’s baseball. Hit the hall and run hard.”
“Think we can hit JV pitching?” Bucky worried.
Dan stood up and pranced around in short, tiny steps, trying to loosen up. “Listen,” he retorted, looking directly at Bucky, “Brayshaw grabbed us because he thinks we can do it. If he thinks we can, then we better think we can. Right?”
“I guess. Sure.”
Dan picked up his mitt. “Last thing you want to do is go out there thinkin’ scared. You’ll just give yourself the dropsies.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Bucky conceded, a little of his confidence returning. “Thanks.”
Most of the other Hampton Beach squad members were milling around the dugout, getting ready to take the field for the home game. Coach Brayshaw’s face brightened at the sight of Dan and Bucky. Motioning them over, he introduced them casually to the rest of the team.
“I’m gonna try you in your regular positions,” he told them. “And I want you to bat five and six today.” He paused. “We’re doin’ OK with our three and four hitters so far, so if I can have the two of you following up on them, I think we’ll see some good things happen.”
Bucky wondered who he and Dan were replacing on the field, but decided not to try to figure it out. Those were the breaks of the game, he decided.
“Well, same old strategy,” he murmured to Dan. “I’ll get on base any way I can; you hit ‘em over the fence and knock us both in.”
“It’s been workin’ up till now.” Dan’s tight smile betrayed his nervousness, despite his confident talk. “Hey, good luck today.”
“Yeah, you too.”
The duo’s hitting debut came in the bottom of the first inning. With only one out, two men on base, and a run already home, Bucky dug in at the plate for his first taste of JV-level pitches.
“Swing level.” Dan’s advice rang in his ears as he eyed the opposing pitcher.
The first pitch was high and tight, but the second one was right where Bucky liked it. Swinging smoothly, he sent the pitch sizzling over the pitcher’s head and into center field for a solid single. The base runner on second scooted around to score easily, and the player on first made it clear around to third on the play. Bucky stood at first base, his heart pounding smiling broadly.
“Not a bad start!” The first base coach commented. “You’re battin’ a thousand!”
Bucky took a cautious lead off the bag, determined to get down the line toward second quickly on a grounder. No double plays! he vowed to himself. But his caution proved unnecessary. Dan lined the very first pitch into left field for another single, and both boys eventually made their way around to score before the inning ended. Five to nothing, Hampton Beach.
The game ended with a lopsided score of ten to two. Bucky and Dan had handled themselves competently in the field. Dan, especially, drew attention by throwing out an opposing base runner who foolishly tried to score from second base in the last inning on a very short base hit.
“Can you imagine that!” Dan snorted as they trotted off the field. “Down by eight and he ends the game tryin’ to score on that dinky hit!”
Coach gathered the team around for some words of praise. “Great job today, men,” he complimented them. He looked over at the two freshmen. “And our newcomers didn’t do the team any harm either.” He grinned. “If we keep hitting like this, I think we’ll find a spot open for us in those playoffs!”
Bucky pedaled home with a sense of optimism in his heart. Already he was noticing a new attitude on the part of his classmates at school. Being on the junior varsity team – especially a winning team – was bound to help him make friends. He could be a witness too, he decided.
“Didja win?” Dad wanted to know.
Bucky gestured enthusiastically as he described the one-sided contest.
“Two hits!” Dad clapped him on the back. “That hotshot pitching wasn’t so hard after all, I guess.”
Bucky shrugged. “Oh, I think it is,” he answered. “I guess right now the hits are just falling in for me.”
Dad nodded. “Well, I’m real proud of you. I hope the team wins enough to make it into the postseason, like Coach says.”
As Bucky read his devotional pages the next morning, his thoughts kept turning to the upcoming set of games. Forcing himself to concentrate, he finished the section he was reading, then bowed his head in prayer.
“Dear Lord, you know I want to play well for you. Please help me to do well, but . . .” His thoughts were hard to focus. “Help my playing to always be a witness for you, not for me . . . Don’t let baseball be more important to me than you are,” he concluded.
The next three games brought big smiles to Coach Brayshaw and the Hampton Beach coaching staff. Dan and Bucky continued to hit well, and their enthusiasm was contagious. At each contest, the team found a new way to win, and the two freshman athletes seemed to be in the middle of every hitting rally.
It was after the fourth consecutive victory that Dad handed Bucky the sports page of the local paper. “Did you see this?” he queried with a straight face.
Bucky shook his head as he began to read. “Litton and Stone are the hot combination sparking the junior varsity Panthers right now,” the reporter observed in his column covering local baseball action. “Their timely hits have turned the squad around, and this pair is anchoring a now-solid defensive outfield. More importantly, the team seems to have a new ‘can-do’ attitude that has Coach Brayshaw thinking about playoffs for the first time in three years.”
“Wow!” Bucky couldn’t hide his pride. “My name in the paper!”
“I wonder if I have enough quarters to buy a hundred copies for all our relatives,” Dad joked.
In the next-to-last game of the regular high school season, both Bucky and Dan cooled off at the plate against one of the star pitchers of the high school district. Neither got a hit, and the Panthers went down to defeat in a close 2-1 contest. However, after calculating all the win-loss possibilities in the league’s remaining final games, Coach Brayshaw told the team that with one more win the Panthers were in!
“We could still miss,” he conceded, “but only if we lose and three other top teams lose, too. I think we’re in pretty good shape.”
Later, as the boys were leaving the locker room, the coach called out to Bucky. “Tough hitting today,” he sympathized.
“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t do better.”
Mr. Brayshaw shook his head. “Hey, it comes and it goes. That happens to everybody.” He paused. “Do your best at our next game and I think we’re going to be OK.”
The days crawled by until the final contest. Trying his best to regain the old feeling of confidence, Bucky took his seat on the bus for the short trip to the host school.
“What do you think?
” he asked the JV second baseman.
The older boy, a lithe Hispanic player, smiled nervously, his olive-dark skin glistening next to the Panthers’ cotton uniforms. “We do our best,” he managed in his new English.
In the first inning, Bucky managed to roll a cheap single through the right side of the infield. Two to nothing, Panthers. As the innings fell into place, the home team consistently trailed by one or two runs. The Panthers would score, and the enemy squad would answer – but never by enough. The Hampton Beach athletes took their places in the field for the bottom of the seventh inning, ahead by a score of nine to seven.
“This is it, shorty,” Dan muttered to his mate in the field. “Don’t drop nothin’ out here!”
“You either,” Bucky retorted. “Back me up on anything short.”
Coach Brayshaw flinched when the pitcher started the inning off by walking the first hitter. “No!” he barked toward the mound.
The next batter followed with a clean single to left. Dan scooped up the ball cleanly and fired toward the infield. First and second, nobody out!
The Tigers followed one of baseball’s oldest adages: In the final inning, play for a tie at home, a win on the road. The next hitter obediently laid down a bunt and sacrificed the two runners to second and third. Now a hit would tie up the contest.
Pacing nervously in the outfield, Bucky watched the action unfold on the diamond. The next batter, too eager to swing, lunged at the first pitch and sent a roller toward second base. Expertly scooping it up, the boy Bucky had visited with on the bus looked the runners back to their bag before tossing the ball first for the second out.
“One more,” Bucky breathed. “One more and we’re in the playoffs!”
As the next hitter began to walk toward the plate a memory triggered in Bucky’s mind. Twice before, this same hitter had hit line drives toward the opposite field.
Quickly motioning Dan toward him, Bucky quietly told him, “I’m going to shade this guy toward right. I think he likes to go that way. Cover for me here, will you?”
“OK,” Dan nodded. “But wait till he’s set in the box before you sneak over. Maybe he won’t notice.”
Bucky followed the left fielder’s advice, waiting until the Tigers’ slugger had surveyed the field and gotten set in the box before shifting slightly toward right field. The first pitch was low and inside and the batter ignored it. Ball one.
The pitcher and catcher went through a long series of signs before they were ready to resume. Using a shortened windup, the pitcher sent a high fastball toward the plate, tailing outside. With a terrific swing, the hitter sent a high drive toward the alley in right-center field. Desperately, Bucky raced into the gap, sprinting hard toward the long hit. For a moment it appeared to be a sure double, well beyond his reach. But the few extra steps he had cheated toward right and the good jump on the pitch gave him just a chance. Making a heroic final effort, he leaped into the air and stabbed at the ball. With a muted thud the ball landed in the very tip of the webbing of his glove. The visitors’ dugout erupted in wild yells as Bucky held the ball aloft. From his vantage point at second base the umpire signaled the third out and the end of the game.
“Didja see that snow cone?” Dan teased, as Bucky trotted in, making reference to the ball peeking out of the webbing of the center fielder’s glove. “You barely got that one, man!”
“Boy, can you imagine what would have happened if we hadn’t cheated that direction?” Bucky grinned, still breathing hard from exertion. “That hit would have tied up the game!”
Coach Brayshaw planted a healthy clap on his back. “Super grab!” he praised. “That was good work, shading the hitter toward right.”
“I could tell he likes to go that way,” Bucky explained. “Then with that outside pitch, he probably figured on two easy RBIs.”
The team gathered around, mobbing Bucky and pounding him on the back with their congratulations. “Good catch! Awesome!” The second baseman was grinning from ear to ear.
“Hey, you had a good play there too,” Bucky responded. “That was a big out for us!”
At the door of the locker room, he caught sight of Lisa, still in her cheerleader’s outfit, motioning him into the hallway. She bounced up and down with excitement. “You won!” she squealed. “And what a catch!” Grabbing him by the jersey, she stood on tiptoe and planted a big kiss on his sweaty cheek. “That’s for making that good grab! And that” – she planted a kiss on the other cheek – “is for your base hit. And that’s . . .”
“Hey, wait a minute,” he protested happily. “What’s goin’ on here?”
“Oh, your mom isn’t here to watch,” she teased. “You did great tonight!” Lisa was still popping with enthusiasm. “My dad came to the game with me. Do you want to ride home with us?”
He hesitated. “Sure. If he doesn’t mind.”
She wrinkled up her nose. “Are you kidding? He loves baseball, so he’s bound to like baseball heroes, too.”
“OK. Give me a second to grab my stuff and tell the coach I have another way home.”
Mr. Brayshaw was still glowing from the win. He punched Bucky lightly on the arm. “Don’t forget Thursday – game one!”
“Don’t worry; I won’t,” Bucky laughed. Hand in hand, he and Lisa headed for the parking lot.
Chapter Nine: The Game on the Line
Bucky stretched out his legs in the back seat of the Nichols’ large car. “Boy, this beats the team bus,” he observed gratefully.
Lisa giggled. “Do you feel like a chauffeur up there, Daddy?”
Mr. Nichols looked over his shoulder at the pair. “I don’t mind,” he said, with a trace of a smile. “Good game,” he added to Bucky.
“Thanks.” The young man tried to think of something to say. “It was nice of you to come all the way over here to watch it.”
Lisa’s father kept his attention on the road. “Well, Lisa wanted to see this one, and she dragged me along.”
Bucky looked over at the pretty cheerleader. “Think we can win in the playoffs?”
She was the eternal optimist. “Oh, sure. When’s your first game?”
“This Thursday.” Already the thought of the high-pressure playoff games caused a tingle to go up his spine.
“Is it at our school?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m afraid we’ve got to be road warriors, at least for the first one.” As the big car glided down the freeway the couple talked happily about school and the upcoming games.
“How about church this weekend?” Bucky asked on an impulse.
For a moment Lisa said nothing. Glancing quickly toward the front seat, she caught her father’s steady gaze in the mirror. Shifting awkwardly in the upholstered seat, she gave a slight shake of her head. “Not now,” she whispered.
Blushing, Bucky kicked himself mentally. How could he have forgotten her warnings about how her parents felt? Idiot! He quickly changed the subject.
As they drove into the outskirts of town, Mr. Nichols spoke up. “Where can we drop you off?” His voice was suddenly cool and distant.
“Oh, uh, I . . .” Bucky stammered in confusion,
“Isn’t your bike still over at the school?” Lisa suggested.
“Yeah. I guess that’s where I need to get out.”
Without further comment, Mr. Nichols drove the two blocks to the high school campus.
Lisa gave him an embarrassed grin. “Sorry.” She mouthed the word so her father wouldn’t hear.
Getting out of the car, Bucky forced a self-conscious smile. “Thanks a lot for the ride, Mr. Nichols. It was nice to meet you.”
“Sure,” the man replied shortly.
Bucky watched the receding taillights of the automobile heading out of the nearly empty parking lot. A trace of frustration dampened his enthusiasm over the big win.
Don’t push so hard, he reminded himself. You can’t convert this whole campus in one school year.
Thursday afternoon the team boarded the bus for t
he four-mile ride to the neighboring school where the Panthers would be the visiting team underdogs. Dan Litton motioned Bucky to sit next to him.
“Ready to win, slugger?”
Trying to force away his jitters, Bucky managed a grin. “For sure. We’re still red-hot, and we’re going to thump these turkeys.”
“Man, I’d love to go all the way,” the older player asserted. “I know it’s just a game, but it would be awesome to finish our freshman year with a trophy.”
“I could go for that.”
The game started with a bang. No sooner had the umpire said “Play ball!” than the Panthers grabbed a five-run lead. Dan followed Bucky’s walk with a bases-loaded triple up against the fence.
“That’s more like it!” the slugger breathed happily, as he grabbed his mitt for the bottom of the first frame. “Win, win, win!”
The home team tried valiantly to fight back, but bad luck seemed to dog their every move. With the bases loaded and only one out in the second inning, the batter hit a sharp line drive right into the shortstop’s mitt. With an easy toss to the second baseman, the double play brought the inning to a close.
“Boy, that saved a couple right there!” Bucky praised the shortstop in the dugout,
In the sixth inning, still up by five runs, Bucky came to the plate with no outs and a runner on third. Normally, the coach might try a dangerous “suicide squeeze” bunt, with the runner charging toward home as soon as the ball left the pitcher’s hand. But with the big lead, Coach Brayshaw sent the signal: “Hit away!”
Bucky sent the first pitch into dead center field. Out on the warning track, the fielder finally made the catch, but the runner from third tagged up and scored with ease.
“Good RBI,” Mr. Brayshaw nodded, as both athletes sat down in the dugout. “We’re in great shape, ladies!”
The game ended with a solid margin of four runs Bucky grinned as he climbed up the steps of the bus for the brief victory ride home. Round two next Tuesday!
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 16
