Catcher with a Glass Arm Read online

  Copyright

  Copyright © 1964 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.

  Copyright © renewed 1992 by Matt F. Christopher

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Little, Brown and Company

  Warner Books, Inc.

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue

  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

  www.twitter.com/littlebrown

  First eBook Edition: December 2009

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Matt Christopher® is a registered trademark of

  Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.

  ISBN: 978-0-316-09547-1

  To Rudy and Kitty

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  THE #1 SPORTS SERIES FOR KIDS: MATT CHRISTOPHER®

  Matt Christopher®

  1

  Ball two!”

  Jody had to reach almost out of the catcher’s box for that pitch. He looked at the runner on first. The Tigers’ man was jumping back and forth, teasing Jody to throw the ball.

  Jody didn’t know what to do. If he threw to second base, he might throw wild. He had a poor peg. If he threw to first, the runner might dash for second.

  “Throw it here!” yelled Moonie Myers angrily.

  Jody tossed the ball to Moonie, who was waiting for it about six feet in front of the pitcher’s mound. That settled his problem for a while.

  Moonie toed the rubber, looked at the man on first, then pitched.

  “Strike two!”

  That pitch breezed in knee-high, about an inch from the outside corner. Jody caught it smack in the pocket of his mitt. It stung a little.

  Then Jody saw the runner on first take off like a shot for second base. Sweat broke out on his face. Even before he threw he knew that the ball would not reach second. He could catch any pitch near the plate, but he could not throw a ball within twenty feet of a target.

  Jody saw Rabbit Foote run from his shortstop position to cover the bag. Jody heaved the ball. It arced over Moonie’s head like a fat balloon and struck the grass short and to the left of Rabbit.

  Rabbit caught the hop. By the time he tried to make the play, the runner was already on the base.

  The Tigers’ bench let out a lusty cheer. They had plenty to cheer about, too. This was the last of the fourth inning, and they were leading 5-4. Now there was a man on second and no outs. They had a good chance to fatten that score.

  Rabbit tossed the ball to a disgusted Moonie Myers and trotted back to his position. He was small but quick-footed as the animal for which he was nicknamed. He had a lot of spark, too. He showed it now as he started a chatter that spread like wildfire among the other infielders.

  Jody joined in, but it was hard to yell through an aching throat. It was his fault that a man was on second base, just as it was his fault that the Tigers had got two runs in the second inning. At that time he had thrown wild again to second, and two men had scored. He had expected Coach Jack Fisher to put in somebody else to catch. But there was no other catcher.

  Moonie breezed in the next pitch. Whiff!

  One out.

  The next hitter flied out to left field. Then Jody caught a high pop fly, and the inning was over.

  Jody breathed a sigh of relief. He took off his catching gear, put on a protective helmet, and picked up a bat. He was leading off this inning. Boy, he’d like to hit that ball this time. A hit would make up for that bad throw to second.

  “Batter up!” cried the umpire.

  Jody stepped to the plate. He was a left-handed hitter, already with a single and a walk to his credit. He let the first pitch go by, then swung at the next. The bat connected with the ball solidly. The white pill flashed over second, and Jody rounded first for a clean double.

  The fans cheered, and the knot that had lodged in Jody’s stomach disappeared. That was what a good hit did for you. It was like medicine. It made you feel all well again.

  Right fielder Roddie Nelson let a pitch go by that was straight down the heart of the plate.

  Another pitch breezed in, curving across the outside corner. Roddie swung. Missed!

  Jody, leading off the bag, turned and trotted back. He tried to remember when Rod-die had got his last hit. He just couldn’t. This was their second league game, and Roddie had not yet touched first base. Roddie was just hopeless, that’s all.

  The pitch. “Ball one!” Roddie almost swung at that one.

  The pitch again. It looked good. Roddie swung. Crack! It was a beautiful sound. Real solid. Jody saw the ball flash like a meteor over his head, and he knew it carried a label on it. A home-run label.

  The ball sailed over the left-field fence for Roddie’s first hit of the year—a two-run homer.

  The fans had never cheered so loudly. Roddie came in, crossing the plate behind Jody. He was so happy he couldn’t say a word. Jody was the first to shake his hand and congratulate him.

  “Nice socko, Roddie!”

  There were no more hits that inning. Now the score was 6-5 in the Dolphins’ favor.

  Moonie worked hard on the first batter and struck him out. Then a single through short changed things quickly. The runner was the Tigers’ lead-off man, a speedster on the base paths.

  He took a small lead as Moonie climbed upon the mound.

  “Steal, Peter!” a Tigers player yelled from the bench. “That catcher can’t throw! He’s got a glass arm!”

  Jody winced. A glass arm. Nobody had ever said that about him before.

  2

  Moonie stretched, looked at the man on first. Quickly he turned and snapped the ball to first baseman Birdie Davis. The runner scooted back safely.

  Birdie returned the ball to Moonie. Once again Moonie went through his stretch. Again came the cry from the Tigers’ bench:

  “Steal, Peter!”

  The pitch came in, slightly high and outside. Jody caught it. He saw the runner racing for second, head lowered and arms pumping hard. Jody heaved the ball, making sure he didn’t throw too hard for fear the ball might sail over Rabbit Foote’s head.

  Instead—the ball fell short! Rabbit missed the hop and the ball bounced out to the outfield. The runner raced on, to third. He stayed there as center fielder Arnie Smith made a perfect peg in to Moonie.

  “I told you he had a glass arm, Peter!” yelled that same voice from the Tigers’ bench.

  Jody tried to ignore the cry. But he couldn’t. The words glass arm stormed through his mind like an echo.

  Moonie toed the rubber and threw in a low inside pitch that was probably harder than any he had thrown. Jody never thought that the batter would bite at it. But the batter did. He hit a dribbler toward the mound. Moonie picked it up and tossed it to first for the put-out.

  Two outs. The runner was still on third.

  One more out, thought Jody… just one more, and this rough inning will be over.

  Crack! A line drive over Moonie’s head! The run
ner scored, and the hitter held up at first.

  The game was tied up now, 6-6. Jody pressed his lips firmly together, yanked on his chest protector, and returned to his spot behind the plate.

  The pitch … a hit to short! Rabbit picked it up, threw to second… . Out!

  Jody whipped off his mask and walked to the bench. He didn’t look at anyone, but he heard someone from behind the backstop screen say, “Don’t let it bother you, Jody. You’ll get that ball up there.”

  On the bench Coach Jack Fisher patted Jody on the knee. “You seem to be afraid to throw that ball, pal. Heave it hard. Let it fly.”

  Jody shook his head. There was nothing he could say.

  Now Mike Brink, pinch-hitting for Arnie Smith, started the ball rolling. He singled through second, and scored on a double by Johnny Bartho. That was all the Dolphins put across that half-inning, but it was enough. The Tigers couldn’t do a thing at their turn at bat, and the game went to the Dolphins, 7-6.

  Jody removed his catching gear and put it into the canvas bag. He had started walking toward the gate when a tall, thin man with a crew cut and dark-rimmed glasses approached him.

  “Good game, Jody. You did a great job behind that plate.”

  “Thank you,” said Jody, trying to smile. “Guess I can’t throw worth beans, though.”

  “Don’t worry. You have a strong arm. I can tell. You’re just afraid to use all that power.” He smiled and Jody smiled with him.

  “Want to come home with us?” the man invited.

  Jody didn’t know whom he meant by “us.” He had never seen the man before. “No, thanks,” he said. “I don’t live very far from here. I can walk home.”

  “Okay. See you at the next game.”

  “Good-bye,” said Jody.

  The man walked toward Coach Fisher and a group of boys who were helping him load up the canvas bag. Jody turned and stepped through the gate.

  “Meowrrrr!”

  Jody grinned. “Hi, Midnight,” he greeted. “Come to meet me, did you?”

  The black cat rubbed up against Jody’s leg, and Jody bent down to pet it. Midnight was really a wonderful pet. He tagged after Jody almost everywhere Jody went. And Jody loved him. He probably loved Midnight as much as he did baseball.

  He found Rabbit and Birdie waiting for him too, and they all walked home together.

  Rabbit talked a blue streak most of the time, hardly giving Birdie or Jody a chance to squeeze in a word. But that was Rabbit for you. Jody liked him a lot.

  Then Rabbit said, “Gets me why you can’t throw that ball to second, Jody. Boy! Would I like to have tagged that one kid. He runs like a streak, but we’d have had him if you’d thrown the ball at the bag.”

  “I know,” admitted Jody. “But I can’t. That’s all there is to it. I just can’t.”

  He suddenly remembered what a Tigers player had said—glass arm.

  “Moonie was real sore,” said Birdie. “Maybe he won’t pitch any more.”

  Jody’s mouth dropped. “Why not?”

  Birdie shrugged. “Oh. You know how he is.”

  Jody pressed his lips together. Yes, he knew how Moonie was. But it was him Moonie was sore at.

  3

  The sun was blazing overhead just before noon Saturday as the blue car zipped along Route 4. In the front seat were Mom and Dad Sinclair. In back were Jody, his sister, Diane, Rabbit Foote, and, of course, Midnight. They were going on a picnic.

  It wasn’t going to be just an ordinary picnic, though. Dad had plans. As a matter of fact, it was his idea to have Rabbit come along.

  Jody didn’t know what those plans could be. Dad had suggested that they bring along a bat, baseball, and some baseball gloves. That was strange since Dad, a real golf bug, had his bag of clubs in the trunk with the food.

  Lincoln Park was thirteen miles away from home. It was a beautiful green spot with hills protecting it on all sides. There were picnic tables sheltered underneath trees and along the hillsides. There was a large swimming pool already dotted with swimmers. There was a softball diamond, and plenty of room to drive a baseball a mile.

  There were already golfers practicing on long and short putts. That was what Dad liked to do, too.

  Dad parked the car. Jody and Rabbit found a vacant table nearby.

  Dad asked, “Do you kids want to go swimming until lunch is ready?”

  “Okay by me,” said Rabbit.

  The boys ran to the bathhouse with their trunks. At their heels raced Midnight, his black tail high in the air. The boys got into their trunks and then dived off a low diving board into the cool, clean pool.

  It was almost half an hour later when Diane came after them. From the edge of the pool she cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted:

  “Jody! Rabbit! Come and get i-i-i-it! You, too, Midnight!” she added.

  The boys climbed out of the pool and walked to the picnic table, water dripping off their bodies. Diane tossed each a towel, and they dried themselves as best as they could. Then they sat and ate. After that they were too full to swim anymore. Anyway, they knew they shouldn’t so soon after eating. They went to the bathhouse and dressed.

  “Bet Dad will be out there with his golf clubs,” said Jody as they started out the door.

  “He’s out there, but not with his golf clubs,” observed Rabbit. “He has the bat, ball, and gloves. Guess he wants to give us a workout, Jody.”

  “We’re going to have some throwing practice,” said Dad. “Rabbit, take this glove and get down there about where second base would be. Jody, put on your mitt. I’ll get halfway between, about where the pitcher’s box would be. I want to see you throw that ball, Jody. In those games I’ve seen I can tell that you’re holding back. You’re not throwing that ball at all as you should.”

  So that was it, thought Jody. And I never even thought he cared how I threw!

  Dad laid the bat aside and threw the baseball to Jody. “Okay. Throw it back to me,” he said.

  Jody threw it easily. Too easily. It struck the ground two feet in front of his father.

  “Throw them up here, Jody!” said Dad, holding his glove against his chest.

  Jody tried again. Still low.

  “You’re straining too hard, Jody,” said Dad. “Snap your wrist. Like this.”

  Jody watch his dad move his wrist back and forth as if it worked on a hinge. Then he tried to do the same thing. He succeeded, and a pleased smile came to his lips.

  He threw the ball to his dad. It floated through the air like a balloon.

  “Why are you afraid to throw that ball?” cried Dad. “Why?” He was almost angry.

  Jody shrugged. “I don’t know.” He really didn’t. He wanted to throw the ball hard. He wanted to snap it as his dad did. But he couldn’t.

  “All right,” said Dad. “Throw it to second.”

  Jody reared back and pegged the ball over his dad’s head. It hit the ground and bounced twice before it reached Rabbit.

  Dad didn’t like that at all. He shook his head from side to side.

  “Try it again, Jody. Keep your feet straight and don’t move them. Bring that ball back over your shoulder and then snap it like a whip.”

  Jody tried it. He threw the ball fairly straight, but it was low. It went directly at Dad, and he caught it.

  “That’s the idea,” said Dad. “But aim at Rabbit.”

  Jody aimed at Rabbit, but Rabbit wasn’t where he threw the ball. Dad had him try again and again, making Jody practice short throws to him and long throws to Rabbit. Once in a while Jody threw the ball exactly where he was supposed to. But most of the time he didn’t.

  “Oh, Jody!” cried Dad finally. “How can I teach you? I know you can throw a ball harder than that.”

  Dad’s face was red. You could tell he was angry. He was sweating, too. They had been out here at least an hour.

  “Put the stuff back into the car,” Dad said. “We’ll have to leave soon, anyway. There’s a storm coming.”

  He wa
lked with giant strides across the park, leaving the boys to gather the bat, ball, and gloves. Jody watched his back. A lump formed in his throat and stuck there. He’s disappointed in me. But what can I do? I’ve tried as hard as I can.

  A wind came up suddenly. It whipped the tops of trees and shook leaves loose from their branches. Everything and everybody were in the car when the first big drops of rain splashed against the windshield. Midnight huddled like a black ball on Jody’s lap, purring. Dad started the car and drove it hurriedly out of the park.

  The rain fell thicker and harder. Black clouds swirled and twisted in the sky. Forks of lightning pierced the clouds.

  Dad slowed the speed of the car. The windshield wipers were whipping back and forth, but the rain came down so hard that the wipers were hardly doing any good.

  “I’ll park off the road as soon as I find a place,” said Dad. “This is certainly bad, but it won’t last.”

  Suddenly a great blinding flash lit up the half-darkened sky. Everything seemed to turn white for one instant. Then a terrible sound filled the air.

  Just ahead of them Jody saw a tree break in the middle and collapse across the road!

  “Dad! Watch it!” he screamed, and hugged Midnight tightly against him.

  From the rear seat Mom and Diane let out frightened cries. Dad shoved in the brake pedal. The car swerved, then stopped. Luckily he was driving slowly. But Jody heard a bump beside him. He turned and stared at Rabbit lying with his head back against the seat. His eyes were closed, and a red welt stuck out on his forehead!

  “Rabbit!” Jody cried, and shook his friend by the arm. “Rabbit!”

  Rabbit didn’t move.

  Jody turned wide, horrified eyes at his Dad.

  “Dad,” he whispered, “is he dead?”

  4

  Dad leaned across Jody’s lap. He lifted Rabbit’s head.

  “Rabbit!” he said, rubbing the boy’s cheeks with his hands. “Wake up, son.”

  Rabbit’s eyes blinked open. He moaned and lifted a hand to the bump on his forehead.

  Jody took a deep breath and smiled with relief. “Boy! You had me scared!”