Look Who's Playing First Base (7 page)

Yuri smiled. “That’s okay, Don.”

“No, it isn’t. I got to thinking about it. And I — I realized how stupid I was. Boy!” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Here
I’ve been with the best bunch of guys in the whole world and I had to pull a stupid stunt like that. But I kept saying I’d
quit, unless … well — that stuff I
said about Yuri. I didn’t want to go back on my word. Even when I did it I was sorry.

“You were thinking of your pride,” said the coach.

“Yeah. My pride.”

“Then you really are sorry for what you did?”

Don opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He just nodded.

A grin splashed over the coach’s face and he slapped Don on the back. “Okay, son. Come on. I’ll get you a uniform.”

Don’s eyes were dim as he looked at the coach, then at the other guys, every one of whom was smiling broadly.

And then he was running after the coach — running to get back into his Checkmate uniform.

The Checkmates had last raps in their
final game of the season. If Fergie, the Rascals’ fast right-hander, pitched his usual good game, he could put his team in
the winning column. But the Rascals’ record of six wins and five losses showed that they seesawed back and forth. How they
made out today depended a lot on Fergie.

“C’mon, Gary!” shouted Don, banging the pocket of his mitt. “Give it to me, boy!”

Mike smiled. It was sure good to see Don Waner back with the team.

Gary Roberts breezed in the pitch and the Rascal lead-off man popped it to short for an easy out. The next Rascal grounded
out to Mike and the third lined a long fly to Tom Milligan. Three outs. The teams exchanged sides.

Dick Wallace stepped to the plate. Fergie blazed in the first pitch for a strike.
The next pitch was in there too, and Dick blasted it. The ball sailed out to left and was caught for out number one.

Mike, up next, waited for a good pitch and Fergie gave it to him. Mike swung. The hit was a solid grounder to short. The Rascal
shortstop fielded the hop and threw Mike out by a mile.

Hank Rush didn’t even touch the ball. Fergie mowed him down with three pitches.

Oh-oh, thought Mike. Fergie looks in top form today.

“Blaze it by him, Gary!” he shouted from second base as the Rascal lead-off man stepped to the plate.

Gary Roberts grooved the pitch.
Crack!
The ball pierced the air like a shot, out to deep left. It cleared the fence for a home run and the Rascal fans went wild.

“That blow ought to prick the Checkmates’ fat balloon!” yelled a Rascal fan.

It didn’t. The next three hitters went down — one, two, three.

Tom Milligan led off the bottom of the second with a free pass to first. Bunker flied out to left, Yuri swished, and Dave
grounded out to short.

The Rascals came to bat with fire in their eyes. But the Checkmates chilled them, as again the Rascals went down —one, two,
three.

“Let’s not blow this game,” said Mike. “What’s one run? Let’s get three or four!”

In spite of the Checkmates’ trailing he felt the best he had in a long time.

“Okay, Don,” said the coach. “You’re up. Start it off.”

Don removed his catching gear, put on
a helmet and walked to the plate. He took a called strike, then cut hard at the second pitch. The blow was solid, but directly
at the left fielder. One out.

Gary grounded out to short. Then Dick walked and Mike came to bat. He blasted a low pitch directly at the second baseman,
cussed under his breath and raced to first.

The second baseman flubbed the ball! It bounced over his shoulder and behind him. Mike was safe at first.

Hank was blessed with luck too. The shortstop missed his sizzling grounder. The bases were loaded and Tom Milligan was up.

“Cork it into the next county, Tom!” shouted a Checkmate fan.

His first swing might have done it if his bat had connected with the ball. Instead,
it missed completely. The next swing connected solidly.

The ball never climbed higher than twenty-five feet or so, and was caught easily by the Rascal center fielder. Three outs.

The fourth and fifth innings produced no runs either. The single run scored in the second inning by the Rascals loomed bigger
than ever.

The Rascal lead-off man grounded out to short in the top of the sixth. The next hitter popped a high fly outside of the first-base
line and Mike beelined for it.

“I’ll take it!” cried Yuri. “I’ll take it!”

The ball dropped into Yuri’s glove and stuck there.

“Thataway to go, Yuri!” shouted Mike. His yell was drowned out by the cheers from the crowd.

Gary mowed down the third batter. Three outs.

“All right, men,” said Coach Terko. “It’s our last chance. Tom, get on.”

Tom walked. Bunker then laid into a one-one pitch for a single, and Tom raced around to third.

Yuri was up.

“Blast it, Yuri!” cried Don. “Send it into orbit!”

Mike looked at him and smiled.
I couldn’t play with anybody else, Coach. These guys — they’re my friends. All of them. Yuri, too
. He was sure Don had meant every word.

Yuri stood at the plate, a calm, unworried look on his face. Fergie grooved the first pitch and Yuri swung. Strike.

He watched the second pitch zip by. Strike two.

Come on, Yuri!
Mike pleaded. He could see that Yuri had gotten over the fear of being hit by the ball.

Yuri stepped out of the box, put the bat between his legs, rubbed his hands together and stepped in again.

Crack!
A long, solid blow to deep, deep center! It seemed longer than any ball he had hit before! Another home run!

It was over. The Checkmates won, 3 to 1.

“Man, oh, man, you can really swat that ball!” smiled Don, pumping Yuri’s hand.

Yuri smiled through the sweat glistening on his face. “Thanks, Don,” he said. “And thanks for coming back, too.”

“That goes for me, too,” said Mike. “Double!”

Baseball Pals	Long Shot for Paul
The Basket Counts	Long Stretch at First Base
Catch That Pass!	Look Who’s Playing First Base
Catcher with a Glass Arm	Miracle at the Plate
Challenge at Second Base	No Arm in Left Field
The Counterfeit Tackle	Red-Hot Hightops
The Diamond Champs	Return of the Home Run Kid