The Reluctant Pitcher (6 page)

The next hitter walloped a drive over second for a clean hit. A run scored. A ground ball to Rocky resulted in another out
at third. Then a foul fly, which Chris caught, ended the top of the first inning.

Lee Benton started things off with a walk. Sawbones popped out to third, and Dick Lewis grounded out, bringing up Rocky with
Wally on deck.

Rocky socked a single through short, but Lee was held up on second by Ken Asher, who was coaching third. Wally, batting fifth
today, waited out the pitcher, and got a 2-and-2 count.

He stepped out of the box and dabbed his
hands on the dust to dry the sweat. He took a deep breath and stepped back in. He didn’t feel right. He just didn’t.

The pitch came in.
Crack!
The ball bounced down to third. The third baseman caught it and stepped on the bag, and the half-inning was over.

The Warriors got a hit in the top of the second, but nothing came of it. When the Pacers came to bat, they rallied for two
runs. The Warriors came right back and started pounding Wally without mercy. They got three men on before an out was made.

Coach Hutter called time and walked out to the mound. “Wally,” he said, “what’s going on out here? If you ever want to be
a good pitcher, you’ve got to learn to concentrate.”

“But that’s just it, Coach!” Wally blurted. “I don’t want to be a pitcher! I just don’t feel right in this position.”

Coach Hutter looked surprised. After a
moment, he said, “How long have you felt this way, Wally?”

“Always, I guess,” Wally said, hanging his head down. “I’m sorry, Coach. I know you hoped I’d be just like Del, but I’m not.”

The home plate umpire gave a shout, signaling that time was running out. Either Coach Hutter had to replace Wally or let the
game continue. Coach Hutter called for Terry Towns to check in for Wally. Then he walked Wally off the field and sat him down
in the dugout.

“Wally, I’m glad you told me how you feel. I’m sorry I put you in such a tough position — and I’m not talking about pitcher,
either, though I guess that’s been rough on you, too. You and Del were good friends, but that doesn’t mean you had the exact
same likes and dislikes or strengths and weaknesses. I’ve just been too blind to see that.”

Wally toyed with his glove, then looked up
at the coach. “I miss him, too, Coach,” he whispered.

Coach Hutter smiled at Wally, his eyes a warm blue. “Then let’s go out there and win this game for him. What do you say?”

Wally breathed deeply. “Does this mean I’m still in the game?”

Coach Hutter smiled at him. “We need your hitting power, fella. You want a chance to get back those runs, don’t you?”

Wally’s heart leaped. “Yes!” he said happily.

“Okay. Take right field in place of Jamie Ferris. And, Wally —”

“Yes, Coach?”

“When you get to bat, drive that ball down their throats.”

Wally’s face lit up brightly. “I will!” he cried, and sprinted out to the outfield.

The coach waved Jamie in from right field, talked with Terry a bit on the mound, then walked off the diamond. The crowd
cheered for Wally, but the biggest cheer sounded for Terry.

“Come on, Terry!” yelled the fans, as Terry threw in some warm-up pitches. “Let’s get those Warriors out!”

Terry pitched hard and did a good job. The Warriors went scoreless for three innings.

Rocky led off again in the bottom of the fifth. He socked a two-one pitch for a double between left and center fields for
his third hit of the game. The crowd applauded him. Rocky was having a great day.

Wally stepped to the box. He tapped the tip of his bat upon the hard-rubber plate, then lifted the bat to a spot a few inches
over his left shoulder and waited for the pitch.

“Strike!”

Another pitch. He swung.
Crack!

The ball lifted into the sky toward right field. The crowd started yelling almost im
mediately. Everyone knew where that ball was going. . . .

Over the fence for a home run!

“Way to go, Wally! That’s the way to blast that ball!”

Wally circled the bases. Rocky was waiting for him beside home plate, grinning happily. He shook Wally’s hand.

“Beautiful hit, Wally!” he said.

Next, J.J. Adams struck out. Pete Jason walked, then got out on a double play when Jamie hit to short. And the inning was
over.

Things popped wide open in the top of the sixth. The first Warrior flied out. But two singles in succession, then a walk,
filled the bases. A good hit could put them into the lead again.

In right field Wally tugged nervously on the brim of his cap and bent over, his hands on his knees. Batting for the Warriors
was their third hitter in the lineup, a left-hander.

C
rack!
A high foul fly popped up over home plate.

“I got it!” shouted Chris, throwing his mask aside. “I got it!”

He moved this way and that under the ball. The ball was high — real high. It came plummeting down. Chris put out his mitt.

The ball shot past it, struck the ground. “Oooooo!” groaned the Pacers’ fans.

Chris struck the pocket of his mitt angrily and stood there almost a full ten seconds before he gathered up his mask and put
it on. He was really disgusted with himself.

Chris returned to his position behind the plate, and Terry stepped to the mound. Terry stretched, delivered.

Smash!
A high fly to right field.

Wally ran back, stopped, and waited for the ball. He remembered that a runner was on third. If that runner scored, he would
tie up the score. And then, if the man who was now on second got on third, he could be squeezed in and win the ball game for
the Warriors.

Wally caught the ball. Without an instant’s hesitation he pegged it in to home. The runner was speeding in to score.

The ball struck the ground several feet in front of home plate. It bounced. Chris caught it. He put the ball on the runner
who was sliding in to the plate.

Up went the umpire’s hand. “Out!” he bawled.

The Pacers’ fans leaped to their feet, shouting and screaming with joy. The ball
game was over. The Pacers didn’t have to take their last raps. They had won 4–3.

The whole team — and some of the fans — crowded around home plate, slapping each other happily on the back.

“A terrific throw, Wally!” cried Coach Hutter. “And a nice put-out, Chris!”

Cab Lacey was there, too. He shook Chris McCray’s hand, then Wally’s.

“Nice work, both of you,” he said. He winked at Wally. He didn’t say any more, but Wally knew what he was thinking.
That’s the position for you, Wally. In right field. You play best there
.

Some of the players and fans started to drift away.

“Hey, Cab!” Coach Hutter called. “Cab Lacey!”

Cab Lacey turned. With him were Helen, Sharon, and Jeannie.

Coach Hutter walked up to Mr. Lacey. His blue eyes had a glint in them.

“I’ve just heard some more about you, and it’s all good. Sorry about what I said to you last week. I hope you won’t hold it
against me.”

Mr. Lacey grinned. “I have a very poor memory about some things,” he said.

“Fine. In that case, how about coaching the team this second half of the season? My job takes me away much of the time anyway.
I would certainly appreciate it.”

Mr. Lacey shrugged. “Maybe the boys would feel differently about it, Luke.”

“Well, let’s see about that. What about it, boys?” asked Coach Hutter. “Would you like Mr. Lacey to coach you?”

An enthusiastic shout sprang from them. “Yes, we would!”

Luke Hutter smiled. “There you are. The job’s yours.”

“Thanks. But I want your help, too,” Mr. Lacey said.

“Okay. I’ll be your assistant.”

The two men laughed over the agreement and shook hands.

“I’m going to add one more thing, Cab,” Coach Hutter went on, then paused, as if he didn’t quite know how to say what he wanted
to. “Well, much as I hate to admit it — since I’m a stubborn mule, as my wife says — Wally does fit better in right field
than on the pitcher’s mound. That was a nifty peg he made to home. And he seems to hit a lot better when he plays there, too.”

He looked at Wally and winked. Coach Hutter was an understanding guy, Wally thought. A real understanding guy.

Wally and Sawbones walked out of the park alongside Cab Lacey and the girls, their parents walking ahead of them. Wally
saw Helen making peculiar motions with her fingers to Sharon, and then Sharon making peculiar motions to her.

“Hey!” cried Sawbones. “Look at that sister of yours! She can’t talk sign language, can she?”

“You can never tell about
her
,” replied Wally. “Sharon, what did Helen say?”

Sharon’s eyes twinkled proudly. “She said that you played a wonderful ball game. That you were a hero.”

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