Catcher with a Glass Arm Read online

  “Sorry, Rabbit,” said Dad. “You smacked your head against the window when I swerved. I’ll wet my handkerchief. You can hold it against the bruise to help stop the pain.”

  He opened the window on his side and held out his handkerchief in the rain. When it was real wet, he squeezed most of the water out of it, folded it several times, and put it against the bruise on Rabbit’s head.

  “There you are,” said Dad. “Now just hold it there awhile.”

  Jody looked at his friend with an ache in his heart. That was only a bump, but Rabbit’s face looked very pale. He didn’t look well at all.

  “Are we in a pickle!” murmured Dad.

  Jody looked at him, then looked outside. Tree limbs were hanging over the roof of the car, and the tree trunk was blocking their path in front of them.

  “Guess we’re stuck,” said Jody.

  “Thank God we didn’t get hit by that tree,” said Mom. “Looks as if we’ll just have to sit here until the rain stops and somebody removes it.”

  “Your deduction is quite correct, Martha,” replied Dad.

  The black clouds twisted and spiraled away, and the rain stopped almost as quickly as it had begun.

  “I’m going out a minute,” said Rabbit, and opened the door.

  “Rabbit!” Dad shouted. “No! Close that door and keep it closed!”

  Rabbit slammed the door and turned a white face and wide, terrified eyes to Jody’s father.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Sinclair,” murmured Rabbit. “I almost forgot. That tree could have pulled down some wires. Dangerous wires.”

  Dad looked seriously at Rabbit. “That’s right, Rabbit. By stepping outside you could have really injured yourself.”

  “I know,” said Rabbit. “I just wasn’t thinking, I guess.”

  A few minutes later a car came alongside them and stopped. It was the first car they had seen since the tree had been struck. A man and woman were in the car.

  “Has anybody gone to get help for you?” yelled the man.

  “No,” replied Dad. “We’ll be very much obliged if you’ll report this to the police, sir.”

  “We’ll do that,” said the man, and drove off.

  In less than ten minutes, a large truck with tools and equipment piled on it drove up. Four men got out. One was carrying a chain saw. Another approached Dad.

  “Everybody all right, sir?” he asked.

  “Quite all right, except for one young passenger,” said Dad. “He banged his head against the window when I hit the brakes.”

  The man shook his head. “Sorry to hear that, but it could’ve been worse. That tree pulled down a few wires with it. The lines are dead now. You can move on once there’s room.”

  “Thank you very much,” said Dad.

  The four men went to work on the tree and before too long had cleared a path. Dad drove away, waving back to them.

  “Well,” said Mom, “that was an experience I’ll never forget as long as I live.”

  “Me, too,” said Diane.

  Jody didn’t say anything. He was thinking about Rabbit. How badly was he hurt? Would he be able to play in Wednesday’s game? Without Rabbit playing shortstop, the team would hardly have a chance against the Gophers. And if Rabbit didn’t play, the whole team would blame Jody.

  I wish it was me who got hurt—not Rabbit, thought Jody.

  5

  When the game rolled around Wednesday evening against the Gophers, Rabbit Foote was not in the lineup. His head was still swollen. The doctor had said that he had better not play baseball for a week at least.

  Jody was nearly sick all day thinking about it. He blamed Dad a little, too, at first. But then, it wasn’t Dad’s fault that a storm had come up and a bolt of lightning had struck the tree and knocked it down. That was an accident.

  Dad was really sorry that Rabbit had got hurt. He seemed to feel as responsible as Jody did.

  After the teams had their batting and infield practices, the Gophers took the field.

  The Dolphins started well that first inning. With two away, Arnie Smith singled and Johnny Bartho singled. But the Gophers snuffed out the Dolphins’ chance of scoring by catching Joe Bell’s grounder and throwing him out. Joe was playing short in place of Rabbit.

  The Gophers came to bat and scored a run. In the second inning the Dolphins picked up two.

  Nothing serious happened again until the bottom of the third. The Gophers got hot. With one man out, they began to powder Moonie’s pitches as if it were batting-practice time. To make matters worse, Jody threw twice to third, in an effort to nab a runner, and both times the ball hit the ground far in front of third baseman Duane West. Duane and Moonie yelled their heads off at him. Jody could even hear Dad shouting from the bleachers.

  “Come on, Jody! Throw the ball up!”

  But all the yelling in the world would not have done any good. Nobody knew that but Jody.

  When, finally, the inning ended, the Gophers had put across four runs. Moonie came in shaking his head. He had his lips clamped together, and his eyes didn’t lift once to the players around him. You could tell that he was taking most of the blame.

  Moonie hated errors or bad plays, no matter who made them. Jody wished Moonie wouldn’t be like that. Baseball wasn’t much fun with a guy who acted that way on the team, no matter if he did pitch a good game most of the time.

  It was Moonie himself who started things off with a bang in the top of the fourth. He socked a triple against the left-field fence, and then scored on Duane’s single. Frank York flied out. Arnie put life back into the team by knocking out a double. Left fielder Johnny Bartho, who was Moonie’s best pal, singled. Joe Bell, after hitting four fouls, finally banged out a single, too.

  Hunk Peters, the tall right-hander for the Gophers, must have become tired throwing all those pitches. He walked Birdie Davis on four straight balls. You would think that the coach would send Hunk to the showers, but he didn’t

  Then Jody grounded out, and Roddie struck out, and the big inning was over. Score: Dolphins 6; Gophers 5.

  The Gophers didn’t lose heart. With two outs, they began to hit again. Moonie looked as if the world were going to collapse on his shoulders. He yelled at Jody for not throwing the ball high enough to second, when a runner stole. He yelled at Joe Bell for throwing wild to home. He kicked the rubber when the batters knocked out base hits.

  And then Coach Fisher climbed out of the dugout, called “Time!” and walked out to the mound. Jody stood behind the plate, waiting.

  The coach put an arm around Moonie’s shoulders and talked to him. The pitcher looked up at him and then looked away again, shaking his head unhappily. The coach kept talking to him. Then a smile appeared on Moonie’s face. When the coach walked off the field, the fans cheered, and even Jody smiled.

  Moonie didn’t yell any more. Nor did the Gophers get any more hits. But they had already scored two runs, putting them one ahead of the Dolphins.

  Moonie led off in the fifth inning. He received a big hand as he stepped to the plate. Hunk walked him, and then struck out Duane.

  Mike Brink pinch-hit for Frank, and singled through the pitcher’s box. Moonie went to second. Arnie walked, Johnny Bartho struck out, and Joe Bell came through with another single that scored Moonie.

  It was Joe’s third hit of the game. The crowd gave him a tremendous cheer, because Joe was usually poor at the plate as well as in the field.

  “How do you like that?” said Coach Fisher, grinning broadly. “That boy’s playing like a big leaguer today.”

  Birdie flied out, ending the inning.

  The score was tied, 7-all. But again the Gophers came through, scoring to break the tie.

  Jody led off in the top of the sixth. This was the Dolphins’ last chance.

  Jody tapped the tip of the bat against the plate and waited for the pitch he wanted.

  “Strike!” The ball just grazed the inside corner.

  Another pitch. Jody stepped toward it, lifting his bat.


  No. Too high! “Ball!”

  Hunk scraped some dirt into the hole in front of the rubber. Then he stepped on the rubber and made his windup.

  He breezed the ball in. It sailed toward the plate like a white streak—a little high, and inside. Jody stepped into it again. Just as it approached the plate, the ball curved in. Jody tried to duck.

  Smack! The ball struck the front right side of his helmet, glanced off, and Jody fell. With the helmet on, he hardly felt any pain. But stars blinked like lightning bugs in front of his eyes.

  He heard feet pounding on the ground. And then a voice crying, “Oh, no!”

  6

  Jody sat there awhile, his eyes closed.

  Someone yanked off his helmet and put a cool hand against his head.

  “I’m sorry, Jody! I didn’t mean it!”

  Jody recognized Hunk’s voice.

  The stars stopped blinking, and Jody opened his eyes. Hunk was kneeling in front of him, his brown eyes wide with worry. Beside him was Coach Fisher.

  “Feel better, Jody?”

  “Yes. I feel okay.” The coach helped him to his feet.

  “I’ll have a runner for you,” said the coach.

  But Jody put the helmet back on and trotted to first. “I’ll be all right, Coach,” he said. “I can run.”

  “Are you sure?” Coach Fisher looked at him anxiously.

  Jody grinned. “I’m sure,” he said.

  Then he saw that the manager of the Gophers was removing Hunk Peters from the game and was putting in a left-hander. The southpaw warmed up for a while; then the game resumed.

  The Dolphins’ fans yelled loud and hard for Roddie Nelson to get a hit. They needed a run to tie the score, two runs to put them ahead.

  A ball was called, and then a strike. Now Roddie got ready for the pitch he wanted. The ball breezed in, chest-high. Roddie swung. Crack! The ball arced out to short right field. The Gophers’ second baseman and right fielder both raced after it. Jody stopped about a third of the way to second, waiting to see if the ball would be caught.

  “I got it!” yelled the second baseman, running hard.

  He had his gloved hand stretched out to receive the ball. He caught it and whirled to throw to first. Jody sped back in time.

  The crowd cheered the Gophers’ second baseman. Even the Dolphins’ fans applauded him. It was a great catch.

  Moonie came to the plate. Once again the fans greeted him with applause. He took a called strike, then belted a sizzling grounder to second. The second baseman bobbled the ball, and both Jody and Moonie were safe.

  Lead-off man Duane West came up next. The two runs the Dolphins needed to get back into the lead were on first and second.

  The Gophers’ left-hander stepped to the mound, checked the runners, then threw. He had speed and pretty good control. He threw four pitches—one ball, and the rest strikes. Duane went down swinging.

  Two outs.

  Mike Brink took a called strike, then fouled two pitches in a row. The southpaw threw his next pitches low and inside. Mike waited; then the count was three and two.

  “This is it, Mike!” Coach Fisher yelled. “Make it be in there!”

  The ball breezed in, knee-high. Mike swung. Crack! A hot grounder to short. The shortstop caught the hop, tossed the ball to third, and Jody was out.

  The game was over. The Gophers were the winners: 8-7.

  Rabbit was back in the game Thursday. The Dolphins were playing the Tigers again, the last game of the first series.

  Rabbit had healed well. The welt had disappeared from his head. And he was doing fine at short, too. By the third inning he had handled five grounders without an error and had assisted with five put-outs.

  As for Jody, he wasn’t doing anything right. Two men had already stolen second on him. One had even stolen third. On that play Jody had almost thrown the man out, but almost wasn’t good enough.

  However, it was at the plate that something strange had really happened to Jody.

  The first time up, he had swung at the first pitch and popped out. Nobody knew how he really felt then. He was glad he didn’t have to spend a longer time at the plate.

  Now he was up again. Johnny Bartho was on third, and Joe Bell on second. The Tigers were leading, 3-2.

  Jim Gregg, the Tigers’ tall, wiry right-hander, hurled in the first pitch. It came in belt-high. Jody watched it, and all at once he thought it was streaking at him. He got scared and jumped back from the plate.

  “Strike!” yelled the umpire.

  The next pitch was slightly higher and just as close. Again Jody jumped back.

  “Strike two!” yelled the umpire.

  The Tigers’ players started to laugh and make fun of him. His teammates shouted at him to swing. “Come on, Jody! You can hit him!” yelled Coach Fisher from his third-base coaching box.

  Jody stepped out of the batter’s box a moment, rubbed dust on his hands, then stepped back in again. Sweat stood out on his forehead and rolled in tiny rivers down his face.

  “Stick in there, Jody, boy!” a voice said from the grandstand. “Don’t be afraid of them!”

  Jody remembered that voice. It belonged to the man who had been so friendly toward him during those first few games.

  In came the pitch. It was knee-high. It was going to groove the middle of the plate. Jody could see that—yet his right foot stepped back away from the plate as he swung. He missed the ball by a foot!

  That made the third out. Jody saw Johnny Bartho kick the third-base sack as he turned and headed for left field.

  Jody tossed his bat aside and began putting on his shin guards. His hands shook. He had trouble fastening the buckles. Coach Fisher came over and helped him.

  “What happened, Jody?” he asked quietly. “You looked scared up there.”

  “I know,” said Jody.

  “No sense being scared. Just stay in there. Forget what happened the other day. Make up your mind you’re going to hit that ball. You’ve hit it before—you’ll hit it again.”

  In the. sixth Jody was up again. The score was 4-2 in the Tigers’ favor. Birdie Davis was on first.

  Jody waited out the pitcher. He got three balls on him, then a strike. I wish he walks me, I wish he walks me, Jody was telling himself.

  “Strike two!” yelled the umpire.

  Three and two. This would be it. He had to watch this next pitch closely.

  The ball came in. It looked good, almost even with the letters on his jersey. Then all at once it seemed to come at his head. He ducked back, almost losing his balance.

  “Yeaaa!” yelled the umpire. “You’re out!”

  Jody clamped his lips lightly for a moment, then walked away.

  When the game was over, the score was the same, 4-2. As the teams walked off the field, Jody kept his eyes lowered so that he wouldn’t have to look at anyone.

  Suddenly he heard someone say, “Jody! Wait! I’d like to see you a minute!”

  7

  Jody turned and saw the tall, thin man who had become one of his best fans.

  “Hi, Jody,” the man greeted. “See that you have more troubles now, haven’t you?”

  “Guess so,” said Jody, and began rubbing the toe of his right shoe into the grass.

  “Two problems,” said the man. “That’s pretty rough going. Not throwing well and being afraid of a pitched ball are two of the worst things a ballplayer could wish for himself.”

  “I know,” said Jody. “Guess I’ll never be any different.”

  The man chuckled. “That’s where you’re wrong. You see, you do have a strong arm. You’re just afraid to throw hard—you think you’ll throw the ball too far. That’s wrong thinking.

  “Your new problem is worse. You can’t be afraid of a pitched ball, because then you’ll never hit. But you have hit, before—and very well, too. That bang you got on the head the other day scared you. You must forget that. That’s why ballplayers wear helmets nowadays. When I played ball, we didn’t even
think of helmets. So—don’t be afraid anymore. How about it?”

  Jody smiled. “Okay.”

  The man walked away.

  “Who is that?” Jody asked Roddie, who had stopped to wait for him. “He comes to most of our games.”

  “Jim somebody,” said Roddie. “He’s a friend of Coach Fisher’s. What was he saying to you?”

  Jody told him as they went on their way home.

  As days went by so did ball games. Jody showed improvement in his ball throwing, but not in his hitting. In two games he had poked out only one hit, and that was a blooper over second. Coach Fisher moved him from seventh to last place in the batting order. In the last two games the coach took him out in the fourth inning and had Rabbit Foote catch.

  One day during practice Jim drove up alongside the ballpark and came onto the field. He sat in the stands and watched the Dolphins practice.

  Jody caught his eye and smiled. Jim smiled back and waved.

  At bat, Jody remembered what Jim had advised him about not being afraid of a pitched ball, because the helmet would protect him; that’s why he wore it.

  He recalled the bang on the head from a pitched ball. He forgot if it had hurt or not. Guess it wasn’t the pain he was afraid of, anyway. He was just afraid of being hit, that’s all. He tried not to be. But when he stood at the plate he just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help it now. He stepped “into the bucket” each time the ball came in instead of stepping straight forward. He was hitting the ball, but not at all as he used to before he had been hit on the head.

  “Hey, Jack!” Jim yelled suddenly from the stands. “How about letting me throw in a few?”

  “Sure, Jim,” said the coach. “Come on.”

  “Stay there, Jody!” cried Jim. “Let me throw to you.”

  Jim came in and put on the glove Coach Fisher handed him. He warmed up first, then began throwing to Jody.

  With each pitch Jody’s right foot moved back. He was pulling himself back, too.

  “Stay in there, Jody,” said Jim. “I won’t hit you.”

  Almost all the pitches were over the plate. Jim certainly had marvelous control. Jody tried hard to step straight ahead when he swung. Each time he felt a strong urge inside him to pull away from the pitch. It was as if something were making him do that.