Baseball Turnaround

by Matt Christopher

  “That guy should have been moving toward the ball way before he did,” Sandy remarked to no one in particular. “I’ve fielded tons of those hits without a problem by doing that. Anyone who plays center field should know how to pick those up.”

  Sandy felt a pair of eyes on him. Tony Cataldo was staring at him.

  “What do you mean, you’ve fielded tons of those?” Tony asked. His tone was anything but friendly.

  “I used to play center field,” Sandy replied.

  “Oh, yeah? Were you any better there than you are at third?”

  “I was a lot better than some people I know!” Sandy retorted.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony asked angrily.

  Coach Winston cut in. “Knock it off, you two. Pay attention to the game.”

  Tony stood up and headed for the water jug after giving Sandy a nasty look. Sandy pretended he didn’t see it. Instead, he focused on the plate. He was just in time to see Mitch Lessem strike out.

  Now the top of the batting order was up. It wouldn’t take much to send Jimmy home. Mark hadn’t gotten a clean hit yet and was out to redeem himself. He worked the count up to 2 and 2, then proceeded to pop off five foul balls in a row — all of them to the left. If Jimmy didn’t pay attention, a caught ball could turn into an easy double play. Mark woofed the next pitch to strike out, so the runner remained on third.

  Now it was Frank’s turn to bring it all home. He had walked on his first at bat but singled his next two times. He was a definite threat.

  The Ravens figured that out, too. The pitcher walked the second baseman again.

  With two men on base and two outs, Sandy strode to the plate.

  The Ravens’ coach called for a time-out. Coach Winston took the time to talk to Sandy.

  “A hit now could mean the difference in the game,” he said, cocking an eyebrow at Sandy. “So try to remember about the new stance this time.”

  “Yes, Coach,” said Sandy tightly. He hitched up his pants, tightened his batting glove, and headed for the plate.

  Sandy had a good feel for how the Ravens’ pitcher played the game. He guessed that his first pitch would be down the middle but would break to the inside, causing the batter to back off a little. If he wanted to take a chance on swinging at it, the smart thing to do would be to back off the minute the pitch was thrown. That’s what some of the guys had started doing.

  But Sandy decided that he’d be off balance enough to lose any control over where he hit the ball. Better to wait it out.

  The pitch came and nearly brushed against Sandy’s waistline. He had guessed right. Ball one.

  If the pitcher stayed true to his routine, the next pitch would be a little higher and slightly outside. That was the kind Sandy really liked.

  But it was too high and too outside. Ball two.

  The Ravens crowd roared its disapproval. Was their pitcher going to walk Sandy and load the bases?

  Sandy knew that he should wait the next pitch out. He was ahead of the pitcher and had little to lose.

  The ball zoomed down the middle for a called strike. The count was now 2 and 1. Sandy thought he knew what to expect. The ball would probably head for the lowest point of the strike zone, and then sink. To hit it, he’d have to swing the bat in a scooping stroke. But if he caught it right, well, good things would happen.

  The ball came exactly as Sandy had expected. If it had broken any lower, he’d have had to hit the plate before he made contact with it. But he found his mark.

  Crack!

  Ash wood connected with the white sphere and sent it rocketing high over the field, deep, deep, deep toward center field — and over the fence!

  Sandy jogged around the field to thunderous cheers from the stands. A cluster of Raptors waiting outside the dugout slapped him high fives. But only one player congratulated him.

  “Great hit, Sandy!” Ben Eaton enthused. “From the looks of that swing, you’d make a good golfer if you ever gave up baseball!”

  Sandy smiled at him, started toward the bench, then stopped abruptly. The spot he usually took was occupied.

  By Perry Warden.

  Sandy immediately turned away and took another seat farther down the bench. But the redhead slid down until he was next to him.

  “Nice hit, Comstock. You must have learned something from the sports magazine you ’borrowed’ once, huh?”

  Sandy tried his best to ignore him. But Ben Eaton interfered.

  “Hey, Perry, you know Sandy?” Ben asked curiously.

  “You mean Sandy hasn’t told about how we met in Grantville?”

  Sandy shifted his eyes to Ben, then to Perry. “No,” he said simply.

  “How did you meet?” Ben asked. Perry stared at Sandy for a moment, then gave a half smile.

  “Never mind” was all Perry said. He stood up, stretched, said hello and slapped high fives with a few other players, then left.

  There were two more innings to play, but for Sandy, the excitement was gone. In its place was confusion. He spent the rest of the game at third base but played only halfheartedly.

  The Raptors took the win, thanks to Sandy’s three-run homer. If it had been any other team, Sandy would have been shouting victoriously. But his mind was still on the conversation on the bench.

  He wasn’t sure, but Perry had seemed to be fishing around to see how much Ben knew about Sandy and him. That could only mean that Perry hadn’t said a word about the past trouble to Ben.

  And if he hasn’t told Ben, maybe he hasn’t said anything to anyone else, either. But if that’s true, why does everyone except Ben treat me like I’ve got the plague?

  13

  Sandy spent most of Sunday in his room. On Monday, it was raining too hard for practice to be held. But Tuesday dawned clear and sunny. And that was the day Sandy decided to get to the bottom of the mystery of the Raptors.

  During the warm-up, Sandy took a quick look around to see if a certain redhead had appeared again. He hadn’t. When the warm-up was over, Sandy took a seat next to Ben Eaton.

  While the coach called out the starting lineup for a scrimmage, Sandy nonchalantly said, “So, it was weird that Perry Warden was here for the game, wasn’t it?”

  Ben shrugged. “He likes baseball, and he was one of our star players last year. Guess he just wanted to come back and see how we were doing.” He turned his attention back to the coach.

  “Is he the guy who moved away last year?” Sandy prodded.

  Ben glanced at him and nodded. “He’s been living in Grantville ever since his parents divorced last spring. I don’t think he gets back here that often.”

  “You sound like you know him pretty well,” Sandy said, hoping Ben would keep talking.

  “I know he’s a good ballplayer. But when his parents were going through the divorce, I think he was kind of messed up. Turned mean.” Ben turned to face Sandy completely. “Why are you so interested in him, anyway?”

  “No reason,” Sandy said hastily. “Hey, I think practice is about to begin.”

  Later on, Sandy joined Frank Maxwell in the on-deck circle.

  “So, how about that Perry Warden, coming by to cheer for the team on Saturday?” he said.

  Frank grunted.

  “Guess you guys miss having him on the team.”

  Frank shrugged. “He was a good third baseman,” he muttered.

  Sandy tried again. “You ever hear anything about what he’s been up to in Grantville?”

  Frank eyeballed him. “He said he was coaching some kids’ team this summer. That, and doing some stuff for the town.” He stood up and walked to the plate, leaving Sandy behind to wonder if Frank knew what “some stuff for the town” meant. Sandy suspected that it was Perry’s way of covering up his probation work.

  Still later during that practice, Sandy cornered Mitch Lessem by the water jug. “You know, it’s too bad Perry Warden moved away. I hear he would have been a real asset to the team.”

  Mitch looked at Sandy over the
cup of water he was drinking. “I’m sure if Perry’s on a ball team in Grantville, he’s giving it his all, just like he did here.”

  “You mean you don’t know if he’s playing for a team or not?”

  “He dropped out of sight once he moved away. I was kind of surprised to see him at our game the other day, as a matter of fact. I couldn’t figure out what he was doing here. Trying to relive last year’s glories, maybe.”

  By the end of practice, Sandy felt he had the answer to one important question: Perry Warden had not told his old teammates about the trouble he’d been in. Yet to his surprise, the relief he felt was tinged with anxiety still.

  The reason was suddenly obvious to him: Even though Perry hadn’t said anything yet, that didn’t mean he never would. And since it seemed the team had for some reason decided to turn against Sandy, the likelihood was great that they’d believe whatever Perry had to say.

  Sandy was living on borrowed time. Unless he could figure out why his teammates didn’t like him, the clock might run out at any time. But he couldn’t do that without help.

  14

  When Sandy got home that night, he rushed to his room and dug through his top desk drawer. At last, he pulled a slip of paper out from the pile of junk. On it was a phone number and a name.

  Cradling the phone to his shoulder, Sandy dialed. Someone picked up after the first ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Coach Richards? This is Sandy Comstock.”

  “Sandy! Good to hear from you. How’s the Newtown summer league going?” Coach Richards’s friendly voice put Sandy at ease instantly.

  “Actually, Coach, that’s why I’m calling. Have you got a minute?”

  “Shoot,” said Coach Richards.

  For the next ten minutes, Sandy spoke nonstop. He told the coach everything he could remember about the Raptors’ season from the beginning. He left out nothing: the coach’s refusal to let him play center field, the players’ curious questions about Grantville, Perry Warden’s sudden appearances, and his faltering play at third base.

  “I just can’t seem to make my way with this team, Coach,” he finished at last.

  Coach Richards blew out his breath in a big huff. “Okay, Sandy, I’ll tell you how I see it. This Perry Warden fellow isn’t the only one working against you.”

  Sandy was startled. “He isn’t? Who’s the other guy? Do I know him?”

  Coach Richards chuckled. “Yes, you know him. You see him every time you look in a mirror.”

  “Me? What do you mean — that I’m the reason no one likes me? But I never did or said anything to anyone!”

  “Listen to what you just said, Sandy. From what you’ve told me, you’ve done exactly nothing to get to know your teammates. You’ve been so busy trying to analyze everything they say and to cover up anything about your dark past, that you’ve wound up alienating yourself from them! Friendship is a two-way street, don’t forget. You’ve got to be open with them if you expect them to be the same with you. Remember how your positive attitude helped the Dolphins improve!”

  Sandy thought that over. “But how can I be open with them and not tell them about my — my dark past?”

  “Why do you want to keep that from them? Everyone makes mistakes, Sandy. Sure, yours was a little worse than others, but you paid the price. With interest, as far as I’m concerned. And I’m sure my brother has warned you of the dangers of letting others tell your story for you. There’s nothing harder to squash than a rumor gone wild.”

  Sandy was unconvinced and told him so.

  “Well, you could try starting with something simpler, I guess. Like winning them over with your spectacular play on the field and showing enthusiasm for your team. I know you can do that.”

  Sandy hung up with that advice in his head. He decided it was the best place to start, for now.

  How he was going to go about winning over his teammates was the question brewing in his mind the next day at practice and the one that followed that. In fact, he was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he started to play poorly on the field. By the end of the second day, Coach Winston took him aside.

  “Sandy, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’m not having someone with his head in the clouds starting at third base. Tomorrow’s game, Josh Grant is my third baseman.”

  Sandy couldn’t believe it. It was the worst thing that could have happened!

  The next day, the Raptors hit the field to play the Pelicans.

  “Everybody up!” the coach called. The bench came to its feet as both teams and the crowd stood to listen to a tape recording of the “Star-Spangled Banner.” Usually that gave Sandy a little flutter of excitement. Today, he scarcely heard the shouts that echoed out around him at the end of the national anthem.

  Encouragement rang from the stands as the game began. The Raptors were first up at bat. Mark Freedman was the leadoff batter, with Frank Maxwell on deck. Third up was Josh Grant.

  The Pelicans’ pitcher was cold starting off. He pitched three consecutive balls, and it looked as though Mark would stroll down to first base. But the next two were rockets down the middle to bring things to a full count.

  Mark managed to get a piece of wood into the next pitch. The ball rose high into left field but not deep enough to cause trouble. It was easily put away for out number one.

  Any idea that the Pelicans were going to be a pushover quickly vanished.

  Frank kept his eye on the ball but watched the count go to 2 and 2. Then he took the next pitch and wiffed it for strike number three.

  Josh Grant swung at the first pitch across the plate. The ball curved around the third base line and looked as though it was heading for foul territory. But then it ended its arc and continued to soar over the turf into left field, as close to the foul line as it could go. The Pelican left fielder caught it in his outstretched glove. A fat goose egg went up on the scoreboard for the top of the first inning.

  The Pelicans didn’t show themselves to be much more at bat than the Raptors had been. Lenny Burton, a southpaw, was on the mound for the Raptors. His very first pitch was a sizzler that told everyone he meant business.

  After striking out the first two batters, he allowed a single to short to put a hit, the first one, on the scoreboard.

  But the next Pelican batter hit a high foul ball that hovered above the first base line. Lenny dashed in for it and put it away to end the inning.

  Philip Wood was the leadoff batter for the Raptors in the second inning. He carefully selected his bat and started toward the plate.

  Cheers rose up from the rest of the team. This time, Sandy added his own.

  “Come on, Philip! You can do it!”

  Philip managed to hit a line drive beyond the pitcher for a clean, stand-up single. The Raptors were on the scoreboard with their first hit.

  It was Jimmy’s turn to see what he could do. The count rose to 3 and 2. Jimmy had to look sharp on the next pitch.

  When it came, he swung forward with enough power to send the ball soaring toward the wall. But instead of going over for a homer, the ball landed in the mitt of the Pelicans’ center fielder.

  The next batter, Tony Cataldo, stepped up to the plate. Sandy sat in silence. Tony was a good enough hitter, but Sandy had a feeling his own stats were better.

  Tony swung on a breaking pitch and caught it a little inside. The ball flew out to the second baseman, who put it away. He went after Philip, who was making a break for second. Luckily, Philip was fast enough to get there on a slide. His fingers touched the bag a fraction of a second before he was tagged.

  The Raptors’ hopes for a score were still alive as their shortstop, Dewey Williams, took his chance at the plate. Unfortunately, after popping a foul ball off the third base line, he swung at two bad pitches and the top of the second inning was over.

  Lenny let two Pelicans get on base at the bottom of the second. But he managed to hold them there as the next three batters were put away to end a scoreless inning.
r />   In the third inning, a walk put Lenny on base. Ben Eaton, the catcher, sent him home with a stand-up double, and the Raptors were first to draw blood. Unfortunately, they couldn’t extend the streak and retired with only one run on the scoreboard.

  They held their lead until the bottom of the fifth. Sandy had just about worn out the seat of his pants shifting around on the bench. He had sat out during games before, but never the whole game. The coach seemed satisfied with the lineup, however, even though the Raptors’ lead was so thin.

  Lenny was tiring. He walked the first two Pelicans before putting out the third batter with some pitches that barely made it into the zone. Finally, Coach Winston called time and walked out to the mound. Ben Eaton and Josh Grant joined him to speak to the southpaw hurler. Sandy figured they were discussing how to handle things if the next batter got a hit. But the talk went on for a longer time than such a discussion needed.

  For a moment, it looked like the coach might call in a replacement. But Lenny stayed on the mound as the others returned to their positions.

  There was a murmur of excitement as play resumed.

  The Pelicans’ shortstop was at bat. He shuffled his feet, settled the bat in position, and waited.

  Lenny stared down the line. He wound up, hesitated for a second, and then threw.

  The ball came zooming along and, like magnet to metal, it connected with the bat.

  Craaaack!

  The horsehide sphere rose high overhead and sailed over the field deeper and deeper. Finally, it dropped over the fence for a home run. Three Pelican runners crossed the plate to turn the score to their advantage, 3–1.

  15

  Coach Winston pulled Lenny off the mound and sent in right-hander Mitch Lessem to turn things around. Sandy wondered if any more substitutions were in the offing. If so, where would he end up?

  Right where he was seated was the answer. The coach left the rest of the lineup on the field just as it was.

  Mitch brought about groans when he walked his first batter. But he gave the fans something to cheer about when he put the next Pelican away one-two-three. He capped the inning by pitching a low ball that the next batter scooped for a pop-up to third base.