Look Who's Playing First Base (2 page)

He let the first pitch go by. A strike. The next two were balls. Then he corked the two-one pitch high out to center field.

The Checkmate fans let out a quick yell. It changed instantly to a groan as the ball dropped easily into the center fielder’s
glove. One out.

Mike was up next. He felt jittery. He always did the first time up. He fouled the first pitch into the third-base bleachers,
then waited out the next three throws. They were all balls.

“Go the limit, Mike!” shouted Coach Terko.

The next pitch breezed in and Mike swung. Another foul. In came the three-two pitch. Mike started to swing, then held up.

“Ball!” cried the ump and pointed to first base.

Mike breathed a sigh of relief as he dropped the bat and trotted to first.

Hank Rush, the left fielder, batted next. He wore thick glasses without which he could barely see. With them he could catch
any ball he was able to get to.

Smack!
He socked the first pitch a mile into the air. It came down near the pitcher’s mound, where Lefty Mason, the Leafs’ pitcher,
caught it for the second out.

Center fielder Tom Milligan had no luck, either. He drove a hot grounder to third and was thrown out by four steps.

Mike scooped up his glove from the roof of the dugout and ran out to his position at second base. The Leafs’ lead-off man,
a right-hand hitter, stepped to the plate.
Mike saw Yuri standing almost on top of first base and shouted to him, “Get away from the bag, Yuri! Back up a little!”

Yuri moved several steps to his right and then back. “Come on, Art!” he yelled.

Mike grinned, bent over with his hands on his knees, and took up the chatter.

Art’s first pitch missed the plate for ball one. His next missed, too. His third was over. The Maple Leaf then drove the two-one
pitch for a single over short.

A bunt advanced him to second base. Art fielded the ball and threw out the hitter. One out.

The next batter flied out, bringing up the cleanup hitter. He batted left-handed and Mike saw Yuri take two steps closer toward
the foul line.
That-a-boy, Yuri
, he thought.

Crack!
A hot grounder down to first!
The ball bounced up, skimmed past Yuri’s glove and over his shoulder to the outfield. Mike’s heart sank.

“Yuri!” yelled Don Waner. “You playing baseball or tiddlywinks?”

Mike shot a burning look at Don, then saw Yuri’s face turn red as a ripe tomato. It had started. Just what he was afraid of.
Hot-headed Don was popping off already.

“Forget it, Yuri!” cried Mike. “Get the next one!”

He turned, caught the throw-in from right fielder Dave Alberti, and relayed it home to Don as he saw the runner, who had been
on second, sprinting for the plate. The runner stopped short and bee-lined back to third. Don’s throw to Bunker was high and
the man was safe.

The fifth batter poled a long fly to center. Tom Milligan backed up a few steps,
and missed it. Tom pegged the ball in but the runner on third scored. Art struck out the next hitter for the third out.

“I’m sorry I missed the ball,” Yuri apologized when he came into the dugout.

“You were nervous,” said the coach. “Don’t worry about it. There’ll be more coming your way. Ford! Dotzen! Alberti!” He read
the names from the list he was holding. “Waner! Colt!”

Bunker put on a protective helmet, stepped to the plate and poked the first pitch over second for a clean single.

“Lay it down, Yuri,” advised Coach Terko softly.

Yuri nodded. He stepped to the plate, held his bat up as if he were going to drive the ball into the New York skyline, then
brought it down into bunting position as the pitch came in. A foul tick. Strike one.

He got into position again, digging his toes into the dirt to brace himself. In came the pitch. Quickly he shifted his position
again to bunt.

Another foul tick. Strike two.

“Swing at it, Yuri!” cried Coach Terko.

Hit that ball, Yuri!
thought Mike as he watched from the dugout.
Drive it a mile!

The pitch. Yuri cut hard and missed.

“Oh, no!” cried Don, his voice low and harsh. “He can’t hit! He can’t field! What can he do?” He looked at Mike sourly. “You
can really pick ’em, Mike.”

“Okay, Don,” snapped the coach. “Cool it. We needed a first baseman and Mike thought that Yuri could fit the bill. He’s tall
and he’s not that bad at the plate. I’m going to give him a chance.”

Don shook his head. “He’d better improve before too long,” he muttered, but Mike was sure everybody on the bench heard him.

Dave Alberti singled on a one-one pitch, driving Bunker around to third. Don started for the plate and got halfway to it when
Art Colt yelled to him, “Are you going to bat with your shin guards on, Don?”

Don laughed, which was a surprise. You’d think that after his temper flared he’d give up laughing, at least till the end of
the game. He unbuckled the guards, tossed them aside and stepped to the plate.

Crack!
A solid grounder to third! The third baseman scooped up the ball, glanced briefly at Bunker on third, then pegged to second
base, throwing out Dave. The second baseman pegged to
first, but Don beat it out. Bunker started to run home, then scooted back.

Art flied out to left, ending the top half of the second inning. The Maple Leafs still led, 1 to 0.

Art struck out the Leafs’ lead-off man. The second batter popped out to short and the third lined a drive so straight to Bunker
that you could have hung clothes on it. Bunker caught it for the third out.

“All right, let’s break the ice,” said the coach. “Dick, start it off.”

Dick Wallace did. He drove a flaming grounder through the pitcher’s box for a single. Mike’s sacrifice bunt put him on second
and in scoring position. Hank, the big gun, popped up the two-two pitch for the second out.

Tom Milligan waited out Lefty Mason’s
pitches for a three-two count, then lambasted a belt-high pitch to deep left for two bases, scoring Dick. Bunker singled Tom
in for the second run, and up came Yuri Dotzen.

“Keep it rolling, Yuri!” yelled Coach Terko.

“Drive it out of the lot!” cried Mike.

On the mound Lefty Mason took his stretch.

S
TRIKE
!”

Yuri stepped out of the box, rubbed his hands on the bat, and stepped in again. The pitch blazed in. Yuri swung. Foul.

“Strike two!”

Lefty hurled one in low and outside for ball one. The next was in there and Yuri cut at it. A low, sharp drive to left. Foul.

Again he hit, and again it went foul. Then he drove one high into short left field. The Maple Leaf fielder got under it and
took it for the third out.

Mike started to rise from the bench and
a hand gripped his arm. It was Don Waner’s. “You know what, Mike?” he said. “If that friend of yours doesn’t come through
soon I’m going to throw in my gear. The Crickets need a catcher. It isn’t too late for me to join them.”

Mike’s face colored. “You can’t do that, Don. Yuri will come through. Give him a chance.”

“Chance? He’s lousy, Mike. He won’t get any better and you know it.” He hopped out of the dugout before Mike could say another
word.

The first Maple Leaf batter laced Art Colt’s chest-high pitch for a double. The next dropped a bunt toward third, fooling
the Checkmates completely. The play drew a big laugh from the Maple Leaf fans. The runner on second made it safely to third
and the bunter safely to first.

“Don,” said Coach Terko, “tell Bunker to come in a little. Watch for another bunt.”

A slow grounder to second! Mike ran in, grabbed the hop, glanced at the runner on third, then pegged to first. The throw was
low, but if Yuri stretched he’d be able to catch it.

Yuri didn’t stretch. He tried to field the hop and missed it. The ball squirted past him toward the foul line and a run scored.

“Yuri!” shouted Art angrily. “You would’ve had it if you stretched!”

Mike shook his head and socked the pocket of his glove with his bare fist. He looked at Don. The catcher was standing with
his back to the field, his arms crossed. Some of the Maple Leaf fans were chuckling.

“Must’ve been hard up to get him, huh, Don?” said one of them.

Whatever Don’s answer was Mike couldn’t hear, but it sure brought a big laugh from the fans.

The runners had advanced to second and third. Art Colt took his time on the, mound’ and Mike could see that he was shaken.
He grooved a pitch. It was fouled over the backstop screen. His next two pitches were balls.

The batter hit the two-one pitch to deep center. Tom Milligan pulled it in and pegged it to Dick Wallace, who relayed it home.
But the runner on third had tagged up and beat the throw to home by several steps.

The runner on second advanced to third.

“Come on, Art!” yelled Mike. “Sock it to ’im!”

A high hopping grounder to Yuri.
Don’t miss it, Yuri! Don’t miss it!

Yuri caught it. Mike saw the runner on third make a beeline for home. “Home, Yuri!” he yelled.

Yuri had taken a step toward the first-base sack, but suddenly he stopped and pegged the ball home. It was high — too high
for Don to reach.

“What do you think I am? A giant?” cried Don.

The ball sailed into the backstop screen and the runner scored.

I knew something lousy was going to happen
, thought Mike.
I just knew it
.

A pop-up to short and a fly to Tom Milligan ended the half inning. Checkmates 2, Maple Leafs 4.

The coach motioned to Yuri. “You’re
pretty shaken up, Yuri. Sit out the rest of the game. I’ll have to work you more on grounders. You’ve got the arm but not
much control.” The coach turned to a tall, slender boy who was just leaving the dugout to coach at first. “Bob, play first
the next inning. Better warm up.”

“Okay, Coach.” Bob Layton wasn’t bad on grounders, but he was weak at bat. Even Yuri, thought Mike, could hit better than
he.

Mike looked up and his eyes locked with Yuri’s. Yuri shook his head sadly. And then he looked at Don. “It’s about time,” muttered
Don.

“Don!” snapped the coach. They looked at each other, the coach’s eyes glaring.

“Sorry,” said Don. He leaned over, unbuckled his shin guards, then picked up a
couple of bats and began swinging them back and forth over his shoulders.

I wonder if he would quit and join the Crickets, thought Mike. He’d be mean enough to, and leave us without a catcher. Not
another guy on the team had ever caught before. And it was no easy position. Mike remembered that he had tried it once and
even with all that protective gear he was afraid when a batter swung. It was the same with the other players. Don was the
only catcher they had. If he left, the Checkmates might as well fold up.

“Cy,” said the coach, “bat for Dave. Gary, coach at first.” Gary Roberts was the Checkmates’ alternate pitcher.

The top of the fourth. Cy Williams, a red-headed kid with hair growing over his
ears, took a called strike and two balls, then belted a pitch to center. The Maple Leaf fielder caught it for the first out.

Don Waner, up next, swung hard at the first pitch.
Crack!
Like a shot the ball zipped out to deep left. Don dropped his bat, rounded first, then second, and was held up at third for
a neat triple.

Art Colt hit a sharp single through the pitcher’s box and Don scored. Dick Wallace smashed a line drive to the shortstop.
The Leaf snapped the ball to first in an effort to pick off Art, but Art got back in time.

Mike fouled off two pitches to the left of the third-base sack, then drilled a line drive over the second baseman’s head.
The ball bounced past the outfielders, scoring Art, and Mike held up at second. The hit made him feel good. Almost to the
point of smiling were not the thought of Yuri at the front of his mind.

He perished there as Hank Rush struck out.

Checkmates 4, Maple Leafs 4.

Art mowed down the first hitter. The second laced a line drive to Bunker Ford. Bunker raised his glove and ducked. He seemed
surprised to find the ball in the glove’s pocket. The next Leaf popped to first to end the bottom of the fourth inning.

Tom Milligan and Bunker failed to hit in the fifth. Bob Layton singled, followed by another single off Cy Williams’s bat.
Cy had pinch-hit for Dave Alberti. The ball was just out of the shortstop’s reach and Bob was forced to hold up at second.

“Get two!” yelled the Leaf infielders as
Don Waner came to bat for the third time. “Strike one!” A blazing pitch over the inside corner.

“Strike two!” A ball that drilled the heart of the plate.

“Ball!”

“Ball two!” Was Lefty Mason losing his control?

And then —
crack!
A smashing drive to third. Don slammed the bat down and bolted for first.

The third baseman missed the ball. It bounced up against his chest and rolled in front of him. He sprinted after it, picked
it up and pulled his arm back to throw to first.

“No, Bert! No!” yelled the shortstop.