Baseball Flyhawk (4 page)

“No,” said Chico. “It’s yours. Why do you want to give it to me?”

Buddy looked at him a moment, then returned the ticket to his pocket.

He got back to his business of delivering papers. He showed Chico how he folded them and tossed them onto the porches.

Chico learned by doing. He folded the papers, too, and tossed them onto the porches of Buddy’s customers the way Buddy did.
It was fun.

It took almost an hour to deliver all the papers. Buddy took Chico home with him and gave him a list of names and addresses.

“There you go,” said Buddy. “You can’t go wrong. And here’s the bag. Good luck!”

Chico smiled. “Thanks. With this list I shouldn’t have any trouble.”

Chico took the list and the newspaper bag home with him, and put them in his room.

That afternoon the Royals played the Marlins and won, 12 to 1. Errors and foolish
plays took the heart out of the Marlins. The Royals’ record now was two wins, two losses.

That evening Chico met Buddy, String, Frankie, and Dale coming up the street.

“Hi, Chico!” said Frankie. “We’re going to the circus. Can you come along?”

“I don’t have a ticket,” said Chico sadly.

“No ticket, no circus!” String said, laughing.

Chico glowered at him.

“Can you get some money from your folks, Chico?” asked Buddy. “You can pay them back out of what you’ll make from selling
those papers.”

Chico smiled. “Maybe! Will you wait for me? I’ll ask them.”

“Go ahead,” said Buddy. “We’ll wait.”

Chico ran into the house. His mother and father were both home. Breathlessly he asked them if he could go to the circus with
Buddy, String, Frankie, and Dale.

His parents smiled. “You don’t want to go with
us?”

Chico’s brows raised. His eyes widened. “You’re going, too?”

His mother went to the cabinet in the dining room and brought out three tickets. “We were planning to leave in a little while,”
she said. “Would you rather go with us or your friends?”

Chico stared. What a choice to make!

“I’ll go with you and Papa,” he said, and started to turn away. “I’ll tell the guys.”

“Wait, Chico,” said his father. “Mama, give him his ticket. Let him go with his friends. I think he’ll enjoy it better.”

Chico’s eyes brightened. He took the ticket. “You sure it’s all right, Papa? Mama?”

“We’re sure,” said his mother, nodding.

“Thank you!” he shouted, and ran out to join his friends.

The big tent of the Jay Jam Circus was
packed with fun. Elephants danced, tigers and lions leapt through hoops, acrobats performed on flying trapezes, a man and
a woman pedaled bicycles on a tightwire high above the ground. Chico had seen something like this on television, but this
was the first time he had ever seen it live.

That night he went to bed thinking about the amazing performances. It was a long time before he fell asleep.

When he woke up, the first thing on his mind was the circus. He chatted about it with his mother as he ate breakfast. His
father had already left for work.

Suddenly he remembered something — something he had to do!

“Mama! Mama! What time is it?” he asked, jumping out of the chair.

“It’s eight o’clock,” she said.

“Eight o’clock?” Chico’s heart leapt to his
throat. “Mama! I’m supposed to deliver Buddy’s papers today. I should have been at the street corner at seven!”

“Oh, my poor boy!” his mother cried. “And look what’s happening outside!”

Chico ran to the window and choked back tears.

Raindrops as big as nickels were pouring from the sky.

C
hico put on his raincoat and boots. He folded the newspaper bag, tucked it under the raincoat, and ran out into the rain.
Suddenly he remembered the list of names and addresses, and ran back into the house for it.

What a terrible thing to forget his promise to Buddy!

Horrible thoughts rolled around in his mind. Certainly the man who brought the papers would not be waiting for him. It was
Chico’s responsibility to be there at seven
o’clock. One hour ago! The papers were probably soaked from the rain.

Chico’s heart was never so sick.

He ran all the way to the street corner where the newspapers were supposed to be. There was no one there, of course. Not even
a pile of newspapers.

Chico’s eyes darted around frantically. Hadn’t the man left the papers?

Then he saw them. They were against the trunk of a tree where the rain wouldn’t hit them so heavily. Some old newspapers were
draped over them, with a rock on top to keep them from blowing off.

Chico breathed easier. At least the man had thought about him.

Chico took out the newspaper bag, unfolded it, and piled the papers into it. When the papers were all inside, he took off
his raincoat, picked up the bag, and put the
strap over his shoulder. Then he put the raincoat back on and started out on his route. The papers were heavy. The strap of
the bag began to hurt his shoulders.

The raincoat helped to keep the papers from getting wet, but the paper with the list of names started to get wet and soggy.
Chico’s thumb smudged some of the names, and he had trouble reading them.

Little by little, though, the pain in his shoulder eased up as fewer and fewer papers were left in the bag. Once the rain
slacked for a few minutes, and Chico thought it would stop. Then it poured again as heavily as before. It was still pouring
when Chico finished delivering the papers.

At last! Not only was his bag light; his heart was, too.

But he still had tomorrow morning’s delivery to make. He hoped it wouldn’t rain then.

“You’re home!” his mother exclaimed as she opened the front door for him. “My poor boy! Were the papers all wet?”

Chico grinned through the rainwater that glistened on his face. “Not too bad, Mama. I had them covered very well.”

It rained the rest of that day, but it was beautiful the next morning. The sun was out, and birds were singing. Chico arrived
at the street corner ahead of time, picked up the newspapers, and went on his route.

He referred often to the list of names and addresses to make sure he delivered the papers to the right customers. He had written
over the smudged names so they were easy to read now. This time the job was fun.

Later that afternoon, Buddy came over with a ball and glove. He wanted to know how
Chico had made out the day before, when it had rained so hard.

“You know what happened? I forgot about it,” Chico said. “I woke up late. When I reached the corner, it was eight o’clock.
But the man had put the papers under a tree and covered them up. I’m sorry I was late, Buddy. But I delivered the papers okay.”

Buddy smiled. “I’m sorry it rained, Chico. Of all the times!”

“Thanks, but it was okay. Did you have a nice time at your uncle’s ?”

“Wonderful,” said Buddy. “My uncle has a boat. We had picnics, and rode around most of the time. You’ll have to come with
me next time!”

Chico glowed with happiness. They played catch for a while, then Buddy headed home.

The Royals tackled the Bombers on Tuesday. The game started with the Bombers
living up to their name. They knocked in three runs in the first inning and two more in the second. They were pounding Don
Drake’s pitches all over the lot.

Frankie Darsi replaced Don. His southpaw delivery stunned the Bombers for a while. They either grounded out or struck out.
The Royals came through with two runs in the third and one in the fourth, bringing the score up to 5 to 3. They clinched the
game in the last inning when String smashed out a home run with two men on — sending them over the top, 6 to 5.

On Friday the Royals tangled with the Braves as the second round began. There were three rounds altogether.

Don Drake started on the mound. The Royals picked up two runs in the second inning. They held the Braves to two hits until
the third inning, when Dutch Pierce fumbled a grounder, which started things for the Braves. They socked out a double, scoring
a run. A walk and then a wild peg to first by shortstop Ray Ward filled the bases.

The cleanup man stepped to the plate and smashed a long, powerful drive out to left field. It looked like a grand slammer!

Chico turned and put his back to the ball as he raced toward the fence. Then he looked over his shoulder, turned, and made
a sparkling one-handed catch.

The runners tagged up. The man on third raced for home. Dutch caught Chico’s throw-in and held the ball. It was too late to
get the man scoring the run. The other runners had advanced. So now there were men on second and third.

The fans cheered Chico’s catch. “That-away, Chico! Nice catch!”

A one-hopper to Don, which he threw easily to first, and then a strikeout, ended the bad inning.

The score was tied at 2 to 2.

“Beautiful catch out there, Chico,” Coach Day said as Chico trotted in. “You robbed him of a homer.”

Chico smiled.

Buddy Temple led off and flied out to center. Then Chico came up. He took a strike, then smacked a grounder that just missed
the pitcher’s legs. A single!

Dale Hunt hit a sizzling grounder to third. The Braves’ third sacker bobbled the ball. By the time he had it in his hand,
it was too late to throw anywhere.

Chico stood on second, breathing hard. His right shoe felt loose. He saw that the laces had come untied.

He didn’t want to call time out, though.
He would wait until he got to the dugout, then tie the laces.

Don blasted the first pitch. A high fly to center field. The center fielder made the catch. Chico tagged up and made a beeline
for third. He had to beat that throw-in!

Then, halfway to the bag, his right shoe felt ready to fall off.

C
hico kept running hard.

Suddenly the third baseman reached out to the left side of the bag to catch the throw.

“Hit the dirt!” yelled the coach.

Chico slid. He went to the right side of the bag, hooking it with his left foot. Safe!

The fans roared.

Chico called time. He laced his shoe tightly and tied a knot.

Boy!
Chico thought.
If that shoe had come off, the fans sure would have had a laugh!

Lead-off man Ray Ward smacked the first pitch right over the first baseman’s head for
a clean single. Chico scored, edging the Royals ahead, 3 to 2. Dale advanced to third.

Joe Ellis walked, filling the bases.

Time out was called, and the Braves’ manager came out of the dugout. He walked to the mound and motioned in another pitcher.

The new man was a southpaw. He was short, stocky, and had a lot of speed. After a few warmup pitches, the game resumed. There
were two outs.

Dutch Pierce stepped to the plate. With String Becker on deck, the Braves’ new hurler was facing the Royals’ strongest hitters.
Dutch took a ball, then smashed a chest-high pitch over second base. Dale scored, followed by Ray Ward. Joe Ellis held up
at third. The score was now 5 to 2.

That clout, and those scoring runs, did not make the Braves’ southpaw look very happy. His infielders came in and talked with
him.
When they returned to their positions, he walked up on the mound and faced the Royals’ hardest hitter, String Becker.

He looked around the bases. There were men on first and third. You could tell he wished anybody else was at bat but String.

The little southpaw stepped on the rubber, made his stretch, and delivered.

String swung, and missed. “Strike one!”

The pitcher breezed in another. String started to swing, but didn’t.

“Strike two!” said the umpire.

String stared at him but didn’t say anything.

Another pitch. String swung hard.

Swish!

“You’re out!” shouted the umpire.

String stood at the plate a moment, staring at the pitcher. Then he tossed his bat aside, got his first-base mitt from the
dugout, and trotted out to his position. Not a word left his lips.

“That’s all right, String,” said the coach. “You’ll be up again.”

Chico knew that was quite a blow for String. Imagine that little kid striking out String Becker!

Coach Day had Kenny Morton take Buddy’s place at second and Louie Carlo take Joe Ellis’s place in center field.

The Braves came up in the top of the fourth, anxious to do something about the score. A single and then a sacrifice bunt put
a man in scoring position, but the Royals’ defense was working fine. Not another man reached first.

The Royals hit hard at their turn at bat, but always into somebody’s hands. Nothing serious happened until the sixth, when
the Braves made a last desperate attempt to raise their score.

They managed to put across a run, making the score 5 to 3. Now, with two outs and two
men on, they had their best chance of tying it up — or even going ahead of the Royals.

Their cleanup hitter was up. Already he had knocked out two doubles.

Anxiously, Don Drake looked toward the dugout at Coach Day.

“Pitch to him, Don,” said the coach.

Chico backed up in left field. Louie Carlo stepped back, deeper in center. This batter was a long-ball hitter. If he met the
ball squarely, it would go.

Chico waited.

C
rack!

The sound of the bat connecting with the ball was like a shot. The white pill streaked out to deep left, curving toward the
foul line.

“It’s going over the fence!” someone in the bleachers yelled. “It’s a homer!”

Chico raced back. Near the fence, he turned and looked over his shoulder. The ball was coming down a few feet inside fair
territory. It was over his head.

He leapt high.
Smack!
The ball struck the pocket of his glove and stayed there.

Chico trotted in with the ball. His heart hammered with triumph. Ahead of him, his teammates were jumping with joy. Fans were
cheering.