Read The Catcher's Mask Online
Authors: Matt Christopher,Bert Dodson
The Catcher's Mask
Text copyright © 1998 by Matthew F. Christopher
Illustrations copyright © 1998 by Bert Dodson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including
information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may
quote brief passages in a review.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental
and not intended by the author.
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First eBook Edition: December 2009
ISBN: 978-0-316-09485-6
Contents
To Ian Christopher
Rudy looked at the wall clock next to the kitchen cabinet.
Five of three. I should be leaving,
he thought.
Most of the guys will be warming up already. Zero’s probably wondering where I am.
His mother came in from the living room and glanced at the clock.
“Don’t you think you’d better take off?” she said.
“I guess so,” Rudy mumbled. He put on his baseball cap and picked up his catcher’s mitt.
His mother smiled sadly. “Rudy, I know you don’t think you’ve been playing well
lately,” she said, guessing what had him down in the mouth. “But everybody makes mistakes. I’m sure you’ll improve before
you know it.”
Rudy nodded. She was right about his poor playing. But he didn’t think she was right about his getting better.
Rudy stepped out the door and hurried to the garage, where he kept his bike. He strapped his glove to the back carrier, put
on his bike helmet, and pedaled off.
Every Peach Street Mudder was there when Rudy arrived at the field.
“Glad you could make it, Calhoun,” Coach Parker said sarcastically. “Go help Zero warm up.”
“Shoot,” muttered Chess Laveen. Chess, a stocky boy, was the team’s substitute catcher. “Thought I’d get to start for a change.”
Rudy didn’t know what to say. He had half expected Coach Parker to start Chess at today’s game. In fact, he almost wished
he would. That way, Rudy wouldn’t risk
flubbing up, like he had the past few games.
The errors he had made during those games weren’t terrible. Rudy just wasn’t used to making mistakes, that’s all. What was
worse, he didn’t know how to stop himself from making them.
After both teams had their infield, outfield, and batting practices, the High Street Bunkers took the field and the Peach
Street Mudders took their first bats.
Barry McGee led off with a single. Then he advanced to second on Turtleneck Jones’s sacrifice bunt. He stayed there when José
Mendez’s high fly ball to center field was caught. But then he scored on T.V. Adams’s double.
That was it. Nicky Chong struck out.
The scoreboard read Mudders 1, Bunkers 0.
Not a bad way to start a game,
Rudy thought as he put on his catcher’s gear.
I wonder if I can help keep the score reading like that. I doubt it.
Pitching for the Mudders was Zero Ford, one of the best lefties in the league — usually. He started off by putting two strikes
over the plate on Fuzzy McCormick. Then he gave Fuzzy a free ticket to first base.
“Rats,” Rudy mumbled, thumping the inside of his mitt with his fist. He took a moment to readjust his catcher’s mask. It had
slipped, making it hard for him to see.
Sure wish I had my own mask,
Rudy thought for the hundredth time.
This one stinks. Heck, it’s probably the reason I’m screwing up all the time!
But he knew that getting a new mask was impossible. Catcher’s masks cost money, and he didn’t have a lot of that. And as long
as the Mudders had one he could use, his parents didn’t see why he needed his own.
Ron Bush, the Bunkers’ second batter, took two called strikes, then belted one over shortstop Bus Mercer’s head for a single.
Fuzzy stopped at second.
The next batter popped out. Then Alec Frost, the cleanup hitter, waited out a 3–2 count and smacked a double between left
and center fields.
As José raced to catch it, Fuzzy McCormick rounded third and headed toward home. Rudy leaped to his feet and threw off his
mask, his heart thumping as he waited for José’s throw-in.
The ball came in a little too high. Keeping his eye glued to it, Rudy took a few steps back to catch it. But he stumbled on
something and fell.
By the time he looked up, Fuzzy was crossing home plate.
“Have a nice
trip!
Guess we’ll see you next
fall!”
Fuzzy laughed hard at his own joke.
Red in the face, Rudy stood up and brushed the dirt off his uniform. Then he saw what had tripped him. It was his catcher’s
mask!
Darn this mask!
he thought angrily as he picked it up and tugged it into place.
Bet I would have had that one if this stupid thing hadn’t gotten in my way. Then that Fuzzy wouldn’t be laughing.
With Alec standing up at second and Ron on third, Andy Campbell, the Bunkers’ next hitter, came up to the plate. He creamed
Zero’s first pitch for a home run over the left field fence. That really gave the Bunkers’ fans something to scream about.
The Mudders fans weren’t silent, either. “How about giving your pitcher a pep talk, catcher?” someone in the crowd yelled.
“Or don’t you know that’s part of your job?”
Rudy did know that. But he usually joined Coach Parker at the mound. He had never gone out on his own before. And he wasn’t
about to try it now.
He didn’t have to. Zero seemed to muster his strength. He struck out the next hitter, and the next one flied out to end the
inning.
The score read Bunkers 4, Mudders 1.
Alfie Maples, leading off the top of the second inning for the Mudders, laced Alec Frost’s third pitch for a single over short.
Rudy was on deck, swinging his bat, when Bus Mercer flied out.
Rudy walked to the plate, heart pounding. He tried to forget how he had tripped in front of the crowd. But Fuzzy’s mocking
remark was still ringing in his ears. More than anything, he wanted to get a hit.
“C’mon, Rudy! C’mon, kid! Wallop that ball!”
The cries from the Mudders’ bench boosted
him a little. Then Alec put two strikes by him, and he fanned at the third. Rudy walked back to the bench, dragging his feet
in the dirt.
Zero belted out a single, advancing Alfie to second. But neither boy made it home because Barry McGee flied out.
Fortunately, the Bunkers didn’t add any more runs during their next raps. But neither did the Mudders. The bottom of the third
inning started with the score still 4-1.
Rudy crouched down behind the plate and waited for Zero’s pitch. He was perspiring hard underneath all his catcher’s equipment.
The upper pad of the catcher’s mask rubbed painfully on his sweaty forehead. He glanced over at the water jug and thought
of how great it would feel to duck his head under a stream of cold water.
A movement on the mound snapped his attention back to the game. Zero’s pitch was rocketing at him! The Bunker batter swung
hard and missed. Rudy moved to make the
catch. Too late! He chased the ball as it rebounded off the backstop.
Catcalls and laughter came from the Bunkers’ bench.
“Caught napping, Calhoun?” Rudy heard Fuzzy McCormick’s voice loud and clear.
Rudy scowled.
I just want this game to be over!
he thought.
Luckily the Bunkers went down quickly.
Coach Parker gave his team a quick pep talk that must have worked. The first two batters, Nicky and Alfie, got on base. As
Bus strode to the plate, Rudy stood up to move to the on-deck circle.
“Rudy,” Coach Parker called, “I’m subbing Chess in for you. Your mind just doesn’t seem to be on the game today.”
Rudy returned to his place on the bench.
I blew it again. It’s all because of that stupid catcher’s mask!
he thought with despair.
I’d be a much better player if it wasn’t for that lousy piece of equipment.
The game ended with the Mudders losing to the Bunkers 4-1. As usual, Rudy was one of the last ones to leave the bench area.
He had to help Chess pack up the catcher’s equipment and carry it to the coach’s car. After it was loaded in, Rudy gave the
bag a punch.
“Stupid stuff,” he muttered under his breath. Chess gave him a funny look but didn’t say anything. Moments later, Rudy was
on his bike, pedaling for home.
When he rounded the corner of his street, he had to brake quickly to keep from smashing into a parked car. In fact, there
were a lot of
parked cars lining both sides of the road.
What’s going on?
Rudy wondered. He swung off his bike and walked with it down the street. He stopped in front of the Turn-balls’ house and
stared.