The Team That Stopped Moving (5 page)

“Ball!” said the ump.

The next pitch came down the pipe and Dick swung.
Crack!
A bullet drive over Phil’s head! Dick bolted to first, crossed the bag, and bounded on to second.

“Go! Go!” the first base coach kept yelling.

Dick crossed second and headed for third. Suddenly he pulled up short. Andy was still on third base! Brushing dust off his
legs!

“Get back! Back!” the third base coach shouted at Dick.

Bewildered, Dick turned and started to return to second base, when something hard struck him on the arm.

“Out!” shouted the base umpire.

Dick stared at the Panther who had tagged him out, then again at Andy standing on third base.

“What happened, Andy?” Dick asked.

“I fell,” Andy said. “I’m sorry, Dick.”

Dick ran off the field, embarrassed at his own foolish mistake. Accidents such as Andy’s happened occasionally. But Dick knew
there was no excuse for him to run almost up to third base and not see that the base was occupied.

“I kept yelling at you, Dick!” the third base coach shouted at him. “Wasn’t my fault you weren’t paying attention. What were
you thinking about? That dream?”

It wasn’t until then that Dick realized that the coach at third was Stan. His face turned a brilliant red as he ran all the
way to the dugout without looking up once.

“It’s all right, Dick,” Coach Banks said comfortingly. “We’re not pros. Don’t let it get you down.”

Eddie flied out to short for the second out.

“Keep us alive, Jim!” Stan yelled through his cupped hands.

Jim did, with help from Phil Sandsted. He got a walk. With runners on third and first, and two outs, Tony cracked a rainbow
drive over second base, scoring both Andy and Jim. Jim just made it, beating the throw from the Panthers’ second baseman by
half a step. The Tiger fans roared as their favorites inched across their eighth run.

Art’s fly to left field was caught, ending the three-run inning. Panthers 11, Tigers 8.

“I heard Stan,” Eddie said to Dick as they left the dugout. “He’s getting more obnoxious every day.”

“What can we do?” said Dick. “He’s still our best player. And sometimes I feel as if I’m our worst,” he added glumly.

“Well, you’re not,” said Eddie. “In my opinion, you’re our best.”

Dick’s heart warmed. “You’re a pal, Eddie.”

Eddie smiled. “So are you, Dick,” he said sincerely. “Just the same, win or lose, I’m having a lot of fun.”

“I know. You’re really opening up, Eddie. You’ve changed.”

“Thanks to you,” said Eddie.

“You mean to baseball,” said Dick.

The top of the sixth inning started with the Panthers’ leadoff hitter smashing a drive out to left field. Andy ran back a
dozen steps
and pulled it in. Two hits in succession put the Panthers in scoring position, and Dick saw the Tigers’ hopes of catching
up, and possibly beating the Panthers, going down the drain.

Then a smashing drive streaked directly at him. He caught the ball, touched first. Two outs! He pegged the ball to second,
and Stan tagged the runner going to the bag. Three outs! Just like that!

“Nice going, guys,” Coach Banks said, smiling from ear to ear as the Tigers trotted in for the final ups. “Now let’s pile
up a few more runs.”

Clyde, the first batter, walked.

“Get a hit, Ben!” Dick shouted. “Keep it going!”

Ben hit, all right, but he was thrown out. The game looked, indeed, as if it were going to turn into another loss for the
Tigers.

Then Stan cracked a sizzling liner through the hole between third and short for a single.
Andy beat out a scratch single, his second hit of the game, and the bases were loaded.

Up came Dick. He looked at the scoreboard. The Panthers were leading, 11-8. He could win the game!

His heart pounded as he thumped the fat end of the bat against the plate, then got ready for the pitch.

Crack!
A scorching blow over second! Clyde scored, but a quick retrieve by the Panthers’ right fielder held Stan at third.

“Keep it going, Eddie!” Dick yelled anxiously from first base.

Eddie took a deep breath as he stepped into the batter’s box, exhaled it, and waited for the pitch. The first three floated
by for a count of two balls and one strike. Then he swung, blasting a long, solid blow to deep left center field! Stan raced
in, Andy and Dick trailing, and that was it. The Tigers had come from behind to win their second game, 12-11.

Eddie was almost crushed by his teammates as they swarmed around him, picked him up, and carried him off the field.

“Now I know what a big league baseball player feels like when he socks in the winning run in a crucial game!” He laughed as
he and Dick walked home together.

“And ours wasn’t even crucial!” said Dick.

The Tigers’ next game was late Wednesday afternoon with the Wolves. Both Dick and Eddie spent most of the day with their parents
at the circus that had come to town. The boys went to the baseball field afterward, expecting to see both teams already there
and the fans filling up the bleachers.

Instead, there were no teams, no fans. The place was empty.

A
HORN
beeped behind them. They looked around and Dick recognized Coach Steve Banks’ brown station wagon. With the coach was his
wife, a blond woman Dick had met a few times.

“Get in!” the coach called. “The game’s at the park!”

The boys stared at each other, then ran to the station wagon and climbed in. A loose tail pipe rattled as the car took off
up the street, the exhaust belching smoke.

“I tried to call you a couple of times today,” the coach explained. “Where were you?”

“At the circus,” Dick answered.

“That’s what I thought. Well, both Jim Conley, the Wolves’ coach, and I decided to play the game at Beach Park,” Coach Banks
went on. “Fortunately, the umpires liked the idea, too. Everybody’s bringing a dish to pass for a picnic afterward, and Grace
and I have brought enough for you two. Sound okay?”

“Sounds great!” Eddie exclaimed happily.

Beach Park was alongside Swift River, an appropriate name for the fast-flowing river. It was wide and shallow, a paradise
for fishermen and an adventure for canoeists. The sight of the river made Dick’s pulse tingle.

“Can we go canoeing after the picnic, Coach?” he asked excitedly.

“Well, I suppose so. If you’re experienced, that is.” The coach’s reflection in the rearview mirror cracked a smile at him.

“Oh, I’m experienced!” he replied elatedly. “I’ve canoed dozens of times!”

The baseball field was far enough away from the river so that even an exceptionally long drive wouldn’t be able to roll all
the way to it. The picnic grounds were in the hilly woods beyond.

Both teams took batting and infield practice. Then finally the umpires got the game under way. The Tigers had first raps,
and right off Mark uncorked a hit that went for two bases. Ben popped out to short and Stan belted a single, scoring Mark.
Both Andy and Dick flied out, and the Wolves came to bat.

Pat Hammer, on the mound for the Tigers, got the first two Wolves out on four pitches. The third Wolf slammed a hard grounder
down to third which Ben fumbled, scrambled for, caught, and then whipped to first base. The ball sailed high over Dick’s head
and the Wolf dashed on to second. A sharp line drive directly at Stan ended the first inning.

Eddie, leading off in the top of the second, cracked a shallow drive over second to start a scoring spree that went for four
runs before the Wolves could stop the run-hungry Tigers. He flashed a warm smile at Dick as he pulled on his face mask.

“Guess we’re rolling today, Dick,” he said.

“It’s about time, isn’t it?” a voice answered from behind Dick. He turned to see Stan’s blue eyes pinned on him.

Dick met them with a challenge. “You can’t expect us to win every game, Stan,” he said defiantly. “Anyway, we have a lot of
fun, don’t we?”

“Fun? What fun can you get out of playing if you don’t win?”

“I get a lot of fun out of it, win or lose,” Eddie said.

“So do I,” Dick said. “And I bet that the other guys do, too.”

Stan’s eyes flitted from Dick to Eddie and back to Dick like Ping-Pong balls. “You make
a pair,” he quipped. “Make sure that when you’re in those woods you keep out of the sight of squirrels.”

Dick glared at his back as Stan ran out to his spot at short. “Punk,” he muttered to himself.

The Wolves scored a run in the bottom of the second to put them on the board. Again the Tigers hit and brought home the mail,
this time two runs to make the tally 7-1.

The Wolves threatened again in the bottom of the third and again in the fourth. Finally, in the fifth inning, with the Tigers
in the lead 9-1, the Wolves began to make an impression. They started to pound Pat Hammer’s pitches all over the lot. Two
errors and five hits resulted in six Wolves crossing the plate before an out was made.

With runners on second and third, a ball was hit high behind first base and Dick started to backtrack for it. He kept his
eyes glued on the ball, which looked pale gray
against the intense blue of the sky. He had a feeling, though, that he would never get under it to catch it.

Suddenly, just as the ball was about thirty feet above him and dropping fast, it stopped. All sound ceased. All movement around
him froze.

“Okay, okay. Just relax, kid,” said a voice Dick recognized immediately. “You’re not holding your mitt right to catch that
ball.”

Dick stared at the familiar figure of Jack Wanda, the witch, or whatever he had seen in an earlier game.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Wanda!” Dick greeted him nervously. “I was wondering if I’d ever see you again!”

Jack Wanda’s smile wasn’t exactly pleasant. “Oh, you’ll see me again,” he said. “But not as often as you might wish. I can’t
let you depend on me to help you out every time you get into a predicament, you know. You’ve got to learn to help yourself.”

Dick blinked, suddenly apologetic. “Oh, I didn’t mean
that,
Mr. Wanda,” he said.

“Call me Jack,” Jack Wanda said, some pleasantness coming into his smile.

“I didn’t mean that — Jack,” Dick repeated softly.

“I’m sure you didn’t, kid. But I had to tell you that, anyway. I have to tell that to all my protégés. They’re not all dependable,
you know. Some are as helpless as little children. Thank goodness you’re one of the more independent ones. Well, let’s get
down to business. Start backtracking as if that ball is coming down. Okay?”

Dick did.

“See that?” Jack Wanda pointed out. “You can’t possibly run backward fast enough to catch that fly even if you were the world’s
backward running champion. Now, turn your back to the ball and run.”

Dick did.

“There, see that? You’re running three
times as fast. One more thing. Keep your eyes on the ball. Get the idea?”

Dick nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay. Good luck, kid.”

“Jack, wait!” Dick cried.

But Jack Wanda was gone. Vanished. The next thing Dick knew he was under the ball that was dropping from the sky. Remembering
Jack Wanda’s advice, he turned his back to it and sprinted as fast as he could, all the time looking over his shoulder and
watching the sphere get larger and larger as it came nearer. At the last second he turned and caught it.

A roar broke from the stands as he pegged the ball to second base, nabbing the runner who had not rushed back in time to tag
up. Two outs.

A ground ball to third ended the Wolves’ big-scoring inning.

“What a play you made out there, Dick!” Eddie exclaimed as Dick plopped down on
the bench beside him. “You kept two more runners from scoring!”

Dick glanced at Eddie and winked. Eddie’s eyes widened, his mouth formed an O, and instantly Dick knew that Eddie understood.
Neither said another word.

The Tigers did nothing at the plate. The Wolves did, and went on to win, 10-9.

W
ELL
, we blew that one,” Stan said irritably as the boys picked up their picnic baskets from Coach Banks’ station wagon and a
few other cars belonging to their parents and headed for the picnic grounds.

“We were ahead most of the time,” Dick said defensively. “That’s something.”

The players from both teams piled their food onto tables adjoining each other, and the few parents that attended sat and ate
with their sons. Afterward they cleaned up the tables and stuffed the paper dishes and cups into garbage cans. Then most of
the boys went hiking in the woods. Those who had brought their swimming trunks changed
in the bathhouse and went swimming in a small bay of the river.

Dick wanted desperately to take out a canoe, but didn’t enjoy going alone. Although canoes and rowboats were available at
the park marina for a small sum, he was willing to pay the full cost.

“Eddie, want to come canoeing with me?” he asked.

Eddie thought about it a bit, then shrugged. “Really, Dick, I’d rather hike in the woods. Guess I’m just an old landlubber.”