The Lucky Baseball Bat (3 page)
“Is Rick here?” Marvin asked nervously.
“Just a minute,” she said. She turned around and in a louder voice called, “Rick! Somebody to see you!”
In a minute Rick came to the door. He scowled when he saw who his callers were.
Marvin swallowed. “You were playing with my baseball bat,” he said. “I want it back.”
“You’re crazy!” Rick snapped. “I haven’t got your bat!”
“Yes, you have. You were playing with it on the street just a little while ago. I saw it.”
Rick’s eyes blazed with anger, but Marvin didn’t care. Rick had his bat and he wanted it back.
“Just a minute,” Rick said. “I’ll be right back!”
He turned away from the door. Marvin could hear his heavy footsteps as he walked back through the house. Pretty soon Rick returned. He had a small yellow bat with him.
“There! Is that your bat?”
Marvin looked at it closely. “No,” he said. “But that isn’t the one you were playing with.”
“You’re crazy!” Rick said again. “You must’ve been seeing things!”
He closed the door so hard the wood panels shook. Jeannie and Marvin turned and stared at each other. Neither one knew what to say, or what to do.
“Let’s go home,” Marvin said then. His voice was so weak he could hardly hear it himself. He led the way down the steps.
“He’s lying,” he said to Jeannie as they started up the street. His heart pounded hard now. “I know he’s lying!”
I
T was a little after dinnertime when a black car stopped in front of Marvin as he sat on the porch. The man in the car said, “Hey, sonny! Want to come to the park and play ball?”
Marvin recognized Jim Cassell, manager of the small boys’ team. He got off the porch and walked slowly toward the car.
Then he saw that Jim had somebody with him. Rick Savora. Rick didn’t look at him.
Marvin felt a tightening in his chest. “I —I don’t think so,” he said. “I don’t think I want to play baseball.”
“Why not?” Jim Cassell’s blue eyes studied Marvin, as if he could not understand why any boy did not care to play baseball.
Marvin shrugged. He did not want to say that he didn’t care to play because Rick was on the team. He could not tell Jim that Rick had stolen his bat, that Rick had lied when he said he had not stolen it. It would be pretty cheap to tell on Rick. Let Jim find out himself what kind of kid Rick was. He would find out soon enough. Maybe by then Marvin would have his bat back.
Jim flashed a smile. “Got a glove?”
Marvin nodded. “Yes.”
“Get it. We’re going to have a team in the Grasshoppers League, and since you’re one of the boys in the neighborhood maybe we’ll have room for you on the team. Rick told me about you yesterday.”
Marvin looked at Rick, but still Rick did not look at him. He turned again to Jim Cassell.
“A Grasshoppers League?” He frowned. “What’s that?”
“A league we have here. There are six teams in it. Each team plays two games a week during the summer vacation. The winner gets a free banquet and goes to see a World Series game. It’s something worth shooting for. Don’t you think so?”
“Christmas!” Marvin’s face brightened. “I’ll say it is!”
Jim’s smile broadened. “Now you want to come along?”
“You bet! Wait! I’ll run in and get my glove!”
A
T the field Jim Cassell had two of the tallest boys choose sides. Rick Savora chose for one side, and a red-haired boy named Lennie Moore chose for the other. Marvin was picked on Lennie’s team. Then Jim Cassell flipped a nickel to see whose side would bat first. Rick guessed “Heads,” and chose to bat last.
Jim Cassell told the boys what positions they were to play, then called off the hitters for Lennie’s team. Marvin noticed that Rick was playing shortstop. He wondered what position Jim would let him play. He had never thought about playing in a league! And to have a chance to see a World Series game! What a wonderful thing that would be! Even Daddy had never seen a World Series game!
“Okay, Marvin! Your turn to bat!”
He sprang from the bench on which he was sitting with the rest of the boys, surprised that his name was called so soon. The second one!
He picked up one of the bats and went to the plate. His heart hammered. He got into position beside the plate, tapped it a couple of times with the bat, and waited for the pitcher to throw. The pitcher wound up once, twice, then raised his left foot and brought his throwing arm around. The next thing Marvin saw was the ball coming at him and the plate.
He swung. Missed!
Jim Cassell was umpire. “Strike!” he said. Then, “Get a little closer to the plate, Marvin. You’re too far from it. And keep your feet farther apart.”
He tried to do what Jim said. Again he waited for the pitch. He swung! Missed again!
Sweat came on his forehead. He was growing more nervous by the second. If he didn’t hit they would see he wasn’t any good. And nobody wanted a ballplayer who wasn’t good.
The third pitch came in. He watched it closely. He had to hit it now. He was thinking that if he had his own bat, the one Barry had given him, it would have been a cinch. This bat was too heavy.
But it was too late to think of that now.
The ball was here. Straight as an arrow. Chest-high. He swung!
He heard the ball hit into the catcher’s glove. The bat carried him almost all the way around.
“Strike three!” said Jim Cassell.
B
ARRY came up the street the next morning wearing a white tee shirt with a large yellow T sewed on the front of it. Marvin wondered what the T stood for.
“Hello, Marv,” Barry grinned. “You’re just the fellow I want to see.”
Marvin’s eyes widened. “Me? What do you want to see me for, Barry?”
He wanted to ask Barry about the T, but waited to see what Barry had on his mind.
“We’ve got a ball game tonight with Attlee Merchants,” Barry explained. “If you and your sister and your folks would like to go see it, I can get you tickets.”
Marvin’s face broke in a big smile. “Gee, Barry! I’d sure like to see the game! Could you wait a minute? I’ll run in and ask Mother if we can go!”
Barry smiled. “Sure. Go ahead.”
Marvin started to dash away, then remembered. “Barry, what does the T stand for?”
“Taunton,” Barry replied.
“Thanks!” Marvin said, then tore away in a run for the big screen door. He darted inside to where his mother was ironing shirts for his father. She looked around at him.
“Well!” she exclaimed. “What are you so excited about?”
“Barry’s out there,” Marvin said breathlessly. “He said he can get us all tickets to his ball game if we want to go. We can go, can’t we, Mother? Please?”
She smiled. “We’ll have to wait to see what Daddy says. He won’t be home till tonight.”
His heart sank. “But he’ll go, Mother. I’m sure he will. Daddy loves ball games, too!”
She rested the hot iron on the board and put an arm around him tenderly, pressing him to her. “Yes, he does, honey. I think it will be all right. Go out there and tell Barry we’ll go.”
“Oh, Mother!” Marvin cried, squeezing her. “You’re swell!”
They sat in the grandstand, amid the fans of both teams. The evening was warm, with soft, cottony clouds drifting lazily through the sky, hiding the sun for a minute, showing it again the next. But it was shady and cool in the grandstand. Marvin, Jeannie, and their mother and father were sitting together. Marvin could hardly wait for the game to begin.
Finally the umpire cleared the field of the players who were practicing, announced the batteries, and yelled: “Play ball!”
The Taunton players ran out onto the field. Marvin saw Barry run to first base. He thought he would like to play first base too, on his team. Barry looked nice in his white baseball uniform.
Taunton
was printed on the front of his shirt in blue letters, and on his cap was a T.
Marvin sat straight, on the edge of his seat. This was sure going to be a game to watch!
The first player hit a ground ball to third. The third baseman picked it up and threw it to Barry. Barry had to stretch way out to snare the ball in order to beat the runner.
“Out!” yelled the umpire, jerking up the thumb of his right hand.
Marvin and Jeannie clapped and yelled with the rest of the Taunton rooters. Finally there were three outs. Attlee went out to the field and Taunton came to bat.
“Now watch Taunton!” Marvin exclaimed. “Watch Barry get a hit!”
Taunton’s first two men grounded out. Marvin’s hopes fell. But, he thought, just wait till Barry comes to bat. The third batter walked. When Marvin saw Barry step to the plate swinging two bats, he clapped his hands till they stung. Barry tossed one of the bats back and got in position at the plate.
“Now watch this, Jeannie!” Marvin cried. “Barry will show them how to do it!”
The first pitch was a strike. Barry didn’t swing at it. The next was a ball. Then a strike again. Barry swung and missed.
“Come on, Barry!” Marvin cried loudly. “Hit it! Hit it!”
The pitcher wound up and threw again. Barry swung with all his might. The ball made a loud
plop
in the catcher’s glove.
“Strike three!” boomed the umpire. Barry had struck out!
“Oh!” Jeannie sighed.
“Don’t worry,” Daddy said. “He’ll be up again. They can’t hit the ball every time.”
The innings kept piling up. Finally it was the eighth. The score was tied 1 to 1 and Taunton had one man on second. Barry came to bat. Marvin watched eagerly. So far nobody on either team had done much. It had been a pitchers’ battle.
There was the pitch. Barry swung. A hit! Right over the shortstop’s head! The runner on second rounded third, ran for home, and scored!
Jeannie and Marvin jumped up and down and yelled till they were hoarse.
The game ended 2 to 1.
“Goes to show,” Daddy said in the car as they drove home. “Striking out didn’t discourage Barry. You see, he came back and won the ball game, didn’t he?”
“You bet!” exclaimed Marvin happily.
T
HE first game in the Grasshoppers League got under way at last. Marvin’s team, the Tigers, was playing the Indians. Jim Cassell put Marvin out in left field because Marvin was good at catching fly balls, he said.