Wild Pitch
Sports Stories
THE LUCKY BASEBALL BAT
BASEBALL PALS
BASKETBALL SPARKPLUG
TWO STRIKES ON JOHNNY
LITTLE LEFTY
TOUCHDOWN FOR TOMMY
LONG STRETCH AT FIRST BASE
BREAK FOR THE BASKET
CRACKERJACK HALFBACK
BASEBALL FLYHAWK
SINK IT, RUSTY
CATCHER WITH A GLASS ARM
TOO HOT TO HANDLE
THE COUNTERFEIT TACKLE
LONG SHOT FOR PAUL
THE TEAM THAT COULDN’T LOSE
THE YEAR MOM WON THE PENNANT
THE BASKET COUNTS
CATCH THAT PASS!
SHORTSTOP FROM TOKYO
LUCKY SEVEN
JOHNNY LONG LEGS
LOOK WHO’S PLAYING FIRST BASE
TOUGH TO TACKLE
THE KID WHO ONLY HIT HOMERS
FACE-OFF
MYSTERY COACH
ICE MAGIC
NO ARM IN LEFT FIELD
JINX GLOVE
FRONT COURT HEX
THE TEAM THAT STOPPED MOVING
GLUE FINGERS
THE PIGEON WITH THE TENNIS ELBOW
THE SUBMARINE PITCH POWER PLAY
FOOTBALL FUGITIVE
THE DIAMOND CHAMPS
JOHNNY NO HIT
THE FOX STEALS HOME
SOCCER HALFBACK
JACKRABBIT GOALIE
DIRT BIKE RACER
THE DOG THAT STOLE FOOTBALL PLAYS
THE TWENTY-ONE-MILE SWIM
RUN, BILLY, RUN
WILD PITCH
Animal Stories
DESPERATE SEARCH
STRANDED
EARTHQUAKE
DEVIL PONY
COPYRIGHT © 1980 BY MATTHEW F. CHRISTOPHER
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
.
Hachette Book Group
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New York, NY 10017
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www.HachetteBookGroup.com
First eBook Edition: December 2009
ISBN: 978-0-316-09610-2
Contents
To my sons,
Marty, Dale, and Duane
No one on the Lancers’ bench, including Eddie
Rhodes, paid much attention to Puffy Garfield during the first inning when he said that the Surfs had a kid by the name of
Phil Monahan playing first base for them.
So the kid was a snappy first baseman. Big deal! There were a lot of snappy first basemen. Whatever else Puffy had to say
about this Phil Monahan didn’t impress Eddie enough for him to bother listening any further.
At the top of the fifth inning, as Eddie was grabbing his bat from the bunch standing in the metal rack, he heard Phil Monahan’s
name mentioned again. He looked up to see who was bringing it up this time, and saw that it was Paul Norcross. Paul was sitting
next to Tip McDonald, the Lancers’ husky catcher, and Tip looked as if the name meant something to him.
Eddie waited a couple of seconds to see if he could
hear any more about this Phil kid, but Coach Inger’s voice cut into his thoughts.
“Get on, Eddie. Let’s turn this ball game around.” The Lancers were trailing the Cobras by two runs, 4–2.
“He’s got a long handle on it, Eddie,” said Puffy, who was short and squatty and had arms like overstuffed sausages. “Just
grab it and heave it.”
“I’ll do that,” said Eddie, grinning.
He moseyed up to the plate in his easygoing stride, took two cuts at the ball, then let four straight ones, all inches away
from the plate, go by.
“Take your base!” said the ump.
Eddie turned and winked at Puffy.
“Cheap,” Puffy snorted.
Eddie tossed the bat toward a small kid in a baseball uniform, who darted after it, picked it up, and dropped it into the
rack. Eddie trotted to first base.
Eddie stayed on first until he got the bunt sign from Coach Inger at third. Touching the tip of his blue cap to show he understood
the sign, he stepped off the bag and took a lead.
For just a few seconds his mind drifted to the name Phil Monahan again, and he wondered what could be so significant about
a kid’s playing first base that he would be mentioned twice within five innings. What
was special about the guy? Was he a seven-foot giant, or what?
Well, he’d find out soon enough, he figured.
He saw Larry lay the bunt down to third, and Eddie bolted to second. The Cobras’ third baseman made a play on it and threw
Larry out. Eddie, safe at second, was now where he was planned to be — in scoring position.
He took his lead again, keeping his eye on the shortstop, the second baseman, and the pitcher. Rod Bellow came through with
a double to the left-field fence. Eddie ran to third, then made a dash for home.
“Hit it!” Dale Strong yelled as Eddie came pounding toward the plate.
He wasn’t crazy about sliding. He seldom slid. He liked pitching better than fielding or hitting or running. But if sliding
into a base meant scoring a run, he’d just have to slide.
He hit the dirt, and dust swirled and curled up around him like smoke.
“Safe!” yelled the ump.
A cheer boomed from the Lancers’ fans. There were about eighty people in the grandstand and bleachers, half of whom cheered
for the Lancers.
Eddie got up and brushed himself off as he headed for the dugout.
“Nice slide, Pitch!” Tip said to him, white, gap teeth showing in a wide grin.
“Of course,” said Eddie immodestly.
He and Tip had been friends since the day Eddie had moved to Argus, a small town on the southwest coast of Florida. Eddie’s
parents had purchased a gift shop at Bahia Vista Plaza, after having sold their home in Ohio. Tip was a native Floridian,
and his father was a cop.
Puffy, sitting near the end of the dugout, leaned toward Tip and said, “Hey, Tip, you going to tell him?”
“Tell him what? Oh, yeah,” Tip said.
He beamed, and a mischievous look came into his eyes.
“Shove over,” Eddie said.
Tip and Tony Netro moved to give him room. He sat down and looked at Tip.
“Tell me what?” he asked.
“You know Phyl Monahan?”
Eddie frowned. “No. All I heard was that he’s a first baseman. What’s so hot about him?”
“It’s not a him. It’s a her. Her name’s Phyllis. They call her Phyl.”
Eddie’s jaw slacked. “Huh?”
Tip chuckled. “You heard me.”
“A girl? And she plays first base?”
Tip nodded. “And from what Puffy says, she’s good.”
Maybe she’s good on a girls’ team, Eddie reflected. But on a boys’ team? He doubted it. Not that he had anything against girls.
He knew some who were pretty nice. But as a ballplayer? No way. He really didn’t think they belonged on the same diamond with
the guys.
Eddie looked over at Puffy and caught his eye. “You know her?”
Puffy pushed out his lower lip and shook his head. “No. She lives in the Parkdale school district. That’s where most of the
kids go to school who play with the Surfs.”
“She big?”
“You mean is she tall? No. I’d say about average.”
Tip squeezed Eddie’s knee. “The Surfs are playing on Number Two field. What do you say we hightail it over there after our
game? If they’re still playing we can get a look at her.”
Eddie shrugged. Why should he go over there and watch her play? Seeing ballplayers there from another team might just swell
her head, anyway. Being on a boys’ team might have already swollen it a size or two.
“I don’t know,” he said, reluctant.
“Why not?” Tip winked. “Maybe she’s got something else besides legs.”
Puffy Garfield laughed. “Yeah.”
They turned their attention back to the ball game, and watched Dale pop out to the shortstop. Rod ran off second a few steps,
but got back before the shortstop could make a play on him.
“Knock ’im in, Lynn!” Puffy yelled to the next batter, Lynn Pellman. “You’re hittin’, man!”
Lynn was the Lancers’ cleanup hitter. So far he had singled and grounded out. Pitchers had heard of his reputation as a long-ball
hitter and tried never to give him a good pitch.
Tom Hayes didn’t give him one, and Lynn dropped his bat and trotted to first.
Paul Norcross took two cuts, then struck out, leaving the two men stranded.
Tip buckled up his knee guards. “Let’s hurry out there and get this game over with,” he said.
“This is just the middle of the fifth inning, Tip,” reminded Eddie, getting up. “And we need more runs to take this game.”
“Come on, guys,” said the plate umpire. “Hustle.”
The teams exchanged sides, Eddie going to the mound to start pitching the bottom half of the inning. After the first inning
he’d been doing fairly well. He
had a strong arm, a curve, and a slowball that worked now and then. His father had taught him how to throw it. It wasn’t an
easy pitch. He was able to throw it so it would hardly turn, but controlling it was something else. He had a reputation for
being wild, anyway. He had a good day if he didn’t dust off at least two batters during a seven-inning ball game.
He got by the first Cobra batter (a pop-up to first), struck out the second, then caught a high bouncer to throw out the third
batter himself
Tip, Tony, and Puffy made it a quick one-two-three in the top of the sixth, and Eddie held the Cobras scoreless when they
came to bat.
He led off in the final inning, hoping he could do something memorable for a change. So far he hadn’t done enough to create
even a ripple of excitement.
He did now, lambasting a triple off the left-field fence.
Standing and waiting for one of the next batters to knock him in, he got to thinking about Phyl Monahan again. He had to admit
that if she was playing with the Surfs she must be good. Maybe he’d be pitching to her one of these days.
He watched Larry pop out to short. Then he scored on Rod’s long sacrifice fly to deep center field.
“Nice sock, guy,” said Tip as Eddie trotted in to the bench and sat down, breathing a little heavily.
“About time,” Eddie said. He’d been due.
The Lancers now ripped the game wide open as Dale came through with a double, followed by Lynn’s walk and Paul’s second triple
of the game. Tip flied out to left for the third out, and the Lancers led, 6–4.
“Let’s hold ’em, men!” Coach Inger yelled as they took the field the last half of the inning.
Eddie threw in warmup pitches, faced the first batter, and dusted him off. He didn’t do it intentionally, but the jeers from
the Cobras’ fans made him wonder if they thought he might have.
He finally walked the guy.
The next batter hit into a double play, and the next flied out to left, ending the ball game.
Eddie saw Tip throw off his mask and his belly guard, and start rapidly on his shin guards.
“Still going over to watch the Surfs?” he asked.
“Sure!”
“Okay!”
He tossed the equipment over to where the mascot was piling bats into a bag. Then he straightened his cap, picked up his mitt,
and headed for the gate.
“Let’s go.”
Eddie saw Puffy waiting for them. In a few seconds all three were walking briskly off the diamond to field Number Two.
Doss Park was a huge complex of three baseball fields
located about a half a mile away from the city of Argus. Each field was equipped with lights for night games, and had a grandstand
and bleachers that would seat a thousand spectators.
So far the seats had never been filled to capacity, so when the boys walked in through the gate of Number Two field and saw
the packed stands, they thought they were seeing a record crowd.
“Look at that,” said Puffy, surprised. “It’s jampacked.”
“She must be the draw,” said Tip.
“She’s probably getting a big charge out of it,” said Eddie. “Like a movie star.”