Baseball Turnaround (4 page)

Mr. Richards told him again and again, “You just have to deal with the situations as best you can — head on, honestly, and
directly is always better than avoiding them, I think.”

Sandy half-wished that he could follow that advice. But his former teammates were barely talking to him anymore. His parents
were so wrapped up in final preparations for the move that he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. And as for being honest about
what had happened, forget that!

His only bright spot during the last week of school was that he hadn’t run into Perry Warden in the school halls. When Sandy
closed his locker for the last time, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Good-bye, Grantville. Hello, Newtown!
he thought.
Where no one knows who I am or what I did. Or ever will
.

T
he next day, Saturday, the Dolphins had their first scheduled game. Sandy tugged on his team T-shirt and put on his cap. He
was ready.

“Sorry we can’t come see your team in action, Sandy,” Mrs. Comstock said. “But the movers will be here any minute. We’ll pick
you up afterward, though. I’d hate for you to get lost trying to find the house.”

The Comstock household had been in total chaos for two weeks. Everything that could be packed or dismantled was stacked in
one corner of the apartment. The whole family had been sleeping on mattresses on the floor, pulling clothes out of suitcases,
and eating with plastic utensils and paper plates. Now at last they were moving to their new home.

Sandy had noticed that the closer to moving day
they got, the cheerier his mother and father were. They were still too busy to talk about anything but packing and moving,
but their good moods were infectious. Sandy had started playing with the twins, hiding in the big cardboard boxes, then jumping
out and scaring them until they dissolved into giggles.

Sandy and the twins had first seen the house in Newtown a week and a half earlier. It was two stories, had a big backyard,
a garage, and a huge basement. Sandy had his own room upstairs, the twins were across the hall in a room together, and in
between was the bathroom. Mr. and Mrs. Comstock’s room was downstairs, with their own bathroom. There was a separate kitchen,
living room, dining room, and even a small TV room. To Sandy, it looked like a palace after the cramped apartment.

Now Sandy pulled his bike up from the basement storage room. “Okay, Mom, I’ll look for you after the game,” he called up to
the apartment. “And sorry I can’t help with the moving.”

Mrs. Comstock wrestled a box down the stairs. “Oh, I’m sure you’re
really
sorry,” she said, puffing and putting the box down with a groan. “But don’t you worry, there will be plenty of
unpacking
waiting
for you at the other end!” She ruffled Sandy’s hair, something she hadn’t done for a long time. It made Sandy realize again
just how happy she was they were moving.

The Dolphins were already on the field warming up when he pedaled up. “Hi, Coach!” squeaked Newt, the Dolphins’ first baseman.
“I’m so nervous I feel like I have to pee all the time!”

Sandy laughed. Over the last two weeks, he’d grown a soft spot in his heart for the small girl. “Listen, Newt,” he replied,
“you don’t have anything to be nervous about. You just go out there and play a good game. That’s all anyone can do, right?”

“Right!”

Still, he had to admit that he was feeling a little nervous himself. After all, no matter how talented the players were, a
ball team was only as good as the coaching it received. Even though he was only here because he had to be, he’d hate to feel
he’d let the little players down.

The opposing team, the Leopards, arrived ten minutes later. They were sponsored by the library and had use of the library’s
minivan. The kids tumbled out, yelling encouragement to one another.
Their head coach hopped out of the driver’s seat. Then an older boy emerged from the passenger’s side.

Sandy’s stomach flip-flopped when he recognized the boy. Even though he couldn’t see his hair, it was a face he wouldn’t soon
forget. Perry Warden!

Perry spotted him a second later. Sandy saw him scowl, then heard him yell to one of his players to come get the equipment
bag. The player jumped as if he’d been stuck by a pin and hurried to help.

The two head coaches met to shake hands and greet the umpires. Coach Richards came back to the Dolphins dugout grinning.

“I think we’re in for a good match today, Sandy!” he said. “It should prove to be interesting.”

Sandy wondered if the coach knew who the Leopards’ assistant coach was. If he did, he didn’t let on. So even though he felt
like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, Sandy returned the coach’s smile and gave him a thumbs-up sign. There
was no way he was going to show him the tension he felt at the sight of Perry Warden.

The Dolphins were up first.

“Come on, Manning! Let’s go, Willoughby!” Sandy
called from his coaching spot next to third base. As each batter stepped up to the plate, Sandy cheered him or her on. And
whether the kids hit the ball or not, he had nothing but praise for them when they got on base or headed back to the dugout.

“Nice going, Styles!” or “You’ll get ’em next time, Wallace!” he cried.

Giving such positive encouragement was new to Sandy. At the beginning of the season, he had criticized a few of the kids and
chewed out one boy for missing an easy catch. It was how he used to talk when he played for the Raiders.

But somehow, he never felt quite right saying the same kinds of things here. Then one scrimmage, he had listened closely to
Coach Richards. The coach found something good to say to everyone. The next practice, Sandy followed his lead. To his surprise,
the kids played better than they had when he’d yelled at them.

Apparently, that wasn’t something the Leopards’ assistant coach had picked up on. Every word out of his mouth was a slam.
And he didn’t limit his comments to his own team; more often than not, he ridiculed the Dolphins.

“C’mon, you Leopards, tear these slimy fish apart! They’re nothing!”

And after a Dolphin outfielder had dropped a ball: “Hey, Dolphins, didn’t your coaches teach you how to retrieve the ball?
Try doing it with your snouts next time!”

Sandy ignored him as best he could. But one comment above all the others stuck in his craw. A Leopard runner had missed tagging
second base on his way to third. Both Sandy and the second baseman had spotted it. Sandy called a time out and brought it
to the attention of the umpire. The second baseman pointed out the shoe mark three inches away from the base.

“I’m sorry,” the ump said to the Leopards’ head coach. “It’s just too obvious to let go by.”

On the sidelines, Perry Warden looked disgusted, then yelled, “Shake it off, Leopards! These guys snitch all the time! They
can’t let anything go by without whining about it!”

Sandy knew the comment was directed at him. He turned beet red as his temper flared up.

That kid is asking for it
, he thought fiercely. Then he glanced over at Coach Richards. The coach was
frowning slightly, but he only clapped his hands and shouted, “Good eye out there, good eye. Let’s keep it going, Dolphins!”

Sandy swallowed his anger as best he could and turned his attention back to the game.

At the end of the sixth inning, the score was tied. The two coaches announced that normally they would go into extra innings.
But since this was their first game of the season and it was getting dark, they were going to call it a tie and let it go
at that.

It was with great relief that Sandy watched Perry Warden climb into the minivan and ride away.

Coach Richards came over to him as they got ready to leave.

“So, how did it feel to coach your first game?” he asked.

“It’s great,” Sandy admitted.

“Yeah, I love watching the kids’ enthusiasm for the game grow. I’ve always felt that was more important than winning or losing
— although some coaches seem more intent on pushing their kids to win at any cost.” He gave Sandy a sidelong glance. “I’m
glad to see you’re not one of those kind.”

Sandy returned his look.

“I guess coaching has given me a different angle on the game,” he said thoughtfully. “Someday I’d really like to go into it.”

“Someday, huh? Let me guess, you’d rather be playing, right?” asked the coach.

Sandy nodded.

“Thought you’d say that. In fact, I’ve been wondering if you’d seen the notice in the newspaper about the Newtown summer league
that’s starting up next week.”

Sandy hadn’t.

“It could be a good way for you to meet a bunch of kids in Newtown,” the coach continued. “The teams are sponsored by local
companies. They hold regular practices and games.” He told him the date and time for sign-ups.

“Oh, and Sandy, one more thing. I know that you’re only coaching with me to fulfill your community service. For what it’s
worth, I’d like you to keep on after your twenty hours are up. The kids like you, and it’s only until the end of June, anyway.
What’s three more weeks?”

Sandy didn’t hesitate. “It’s a deal,” he said.

Coach Richards broke into a big smile. “Hoped you’d say that” was his only reply.

While Sandy helped pick up after the game, he thought about what the coach had said about the summer league. It would be a
good way to meet some guys, he supposed. And the idea of being on a brand-new team where no one knew anything about him was
definitely appealing.

When his mother picked him up, he told her about the league. “I think I’d like to join it, if it’s okay with you and Dad.”

His mother glanced at him and smiled. “Sandy,” she said, “I’m glad to hear that you want to look into this. It seems strange
to not have you playing like you used to.”

Sandy looked at her with surprise.

“I know, I know,” she said in answer to his unasked question. “Your father and I kind of lost touch with your baseball last
year. But we want to make up for it if we can. This will be a good way for us to start.”

Sandy felt a warm rush of happiness flood through him. That feeling stayed with him as the car turned
into the driveway of the Comstocks’ new house. He was about to get out of the car when his mother took hold of his hand.

“Welcome home, son,” she said softly.

Sandy nodded thoughtfully. “Thanks, Mom,” he said. “I think it’s going to be really great living here. Really great.”

T
he next Wednesday, Sandy was leaving Mr. Richards’s office after his regular appointment. He was in a good mood; he was just
about halfway through his community service requirement. Mr. Richards had praised him for his decision to continue on with
the Dolphins, too.

But the minute Sandy walked out the door, his mood changed drastically. Seated in a chair outside another probation officer’s
door was Perry Warden.

The redhead narrowed his eyes, then glanced down the hall, stood up, and sauntered over to Sandy.

“Well, if it isn’t the snitch. I’ve been wondering where you’ve been hiding. Under some rock, I’ll bet, or in some slimy dark
corner with the other rats.”

Sandy tried to push past the boy, but Perry shifted so he was again in front of him. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you glad to
see me?”

“Listen, just leave me alone, okay? I’m not looking for any trouble,” Sandy muttered.

“Yeah, well, maybe trouble will find you anyway. I’m keeping my eye on you, Comstock.”

The probation officer’s door opened just then. “You’ll have to excuse me for now,” Perry said. “Thanks to you, I have an appointment
that can’t be missed.”

Perry gave Sandy one last glance. Then he strode into the office.

Sandy tried to put the incident out of his mind by focusing on the upcoming sign-ups for the summer league. When the time
came, he was among the first in line.

He gave the man at the desk his name, told him he was fourteen years old, and that he had played baseball since he was eight.
The man handed him a cap and a T-shirt with the name
Raptors
emblazoned on it.

“That’ll be your team. Be sure to pick up the
practice and game schedule in the envelope at the end of the desk.”

Sandy did as he was told. He glanced at the schedule and saw that the first practice was in two days’ time. The team practiced
in the early evening, from four-thirty until six-thirty, so he wouldn’t have to miss any Dolphins practices. Shoving the paper
into his back pocket, he headed for the door.

On his way out, he bumped into a burly boy with a crew cut. He apologized and was about to move away, when the boy caught
his arm.

“Raptors, huh?” the boy said, looking at the shirt in Sandy’s hand. “I was the Raptors’ catcher last year and should be again
this year. Guess that’ll make us teammates.”

The boy introduced himself as Ben Eaton. They shook hands, and Sandy told him he hoped to play center field.

Ben scratched his head. “Well, I don’t know about that. We had a pretty good center fielder last year. We lost some other
guys, though, which is why there are even spots open on the team. One guy who was really good moved away. Guess you’ll just
have to see what Coach Winston has available.”

Sandy nodded, then left. What Ben had said had alarmed him.
But the coach will have to at least let me try
, Sandy thought hopefully.
After all, he doesn’t know what I can do!

Sandy kept his mind off the upcoming Raptors practice by concentrating on the Dolphins team. The kids had played two more
games, taking home one win and one loss. They had one more to play before the end of the season, and everyone, including Coach
Richards, was hoping to come away with a winning season. So they all agreed to put in an extra practice the Wednesday before
the game. Mr. Richards agreed to stop by, too. He said he had something for Sandy.

Sandy was helping Chuck Willoughby practice catching fly balls when Mr. Richards showed up.

“Willoughby, the important thing to remember is to keep your eye on the ball at all times. Watch it drop out of the sky, then
nab it!”