The Diamond Champs Read online

  He tried not to let this knowledge bother him, telling himself that there was nothing odd about four parents in the whole town of Blue Hills not knowing Coach Stag. Blue Hills was a town of about fourteen thousand people. There must be a lot of people in that fourteen thousand who had never heard of him, just as there were a lot who had never heard of his own father.

  The first practice game was played against the Red Arrows on Monday afternoon, just three weeks after the Steelheads team had been formed. The coach tacked the lineup on the dugout.

  Eric Marsh third base

  Larry Wells left field

  Nick Forson catcher

  A. J. Campbell first base

  Brad Hamilton shortstop

  Kim Rollins right field

  Jo Franklin second base

  Cathy Andrews center field

  Doug Barton pitcher

  Utility infielders: Roger Merts and Jack Henderson

  Utility outfielders: Moe Harris and Sam Jacobs

  Utility pitcher: Russ Coletti

  Both teams had batting and infield practices before the game got under way. It wouldn't have taken a baseball expert to determine which of the two was better. The Red Arrows, in their bright red uniforms, definitely outshone the Steelheads.

  Doug Barton and the Red Arrows' Eddie Noles flipped for the choice of batting. Eddie won and chose to bat last. The umpire was Nick Forson's father, who agreed to do the job if everyone promised not to hit him if he made a bad call. The promise was unanimous.

  Eric Marsh, leading off for the Steelheads, faced the Red Arrows' right-hander, Steve Wolzik, and was so nervous that he let four pitches go by without taking a swing. Two of them were strikes.

  He swung on the next pitch and drilled it to short. Joe Fedderson, the shortstop, fielded the hop and rifled it to first for an out.

  Larry Wells looked for the pitch he wanted, found it, swung at it, and flied out to center field. Nick hit a dribbler to third and almost beat it out. He might have, if he weren't so fat.

  “You'd better run more and eat less,” his father chided him. In the next instant Mr. Forson was yelling, “Okay, team! Hurry in! Hurry out!”

  Mick Davis, leading off for the Red Arrows, hit Doug's first pitch to short. Brad caught the hop and heaved it to first. The throw was too wide and Mick ran to second on the overthrow.

  Hank Stone flied out. Jim Kramer singled, scoring Mick, then sped to third on Fred Tuttle's left-center-field double.

  “Let's settle down, Doug!” Kim yelled from right field. “Pitch it to 'im, kid!”

  Duke Pierce walked to load the bases. Then Jim scored as Doug walked Ken Dooley, too.

  Oh, man, thought Kim. What a first inning this has turned out to be.

  Eddie Noles cracked a sharp grounder to short. Brad snared it, shot it to second. Second to first. A double play!

  “Beautiful play, kids!” Coach Stag said cheerfully as the Steelheads came running in. “Okay, now. Let's get those two back.”

  A. J. Campbell struck out on three straight pitches.

  “We can't do it that way, A. J.,” mused the coach.

  Brad pounded out a single, bringing up Kim.

  I'll strike out. I know I will, he told himself.

  “First of all, it's your mental attitude,” his father had told him when Kim said he was going to play baseball with the Steelheads. “You have to build up a wall of confidence, telling yourself that you're going to do it and do it right. It's like anything else in this helter-skelter life of ours.”

  Kim tried to remember that as he swung at two pitches, missing them both. Then he let two wide ones go by, and swung at the next, a down-the-middle straight ball.

  “Strike three!” yelled the ump.

  I knew I'd strike out, he told himself bitterly.

  Jo fouled a couple of pitches, then lashed out a single, advancing Brad to third. That was it as Cathy arced a fly to center field that was caught.

  Joe Fedderson, leading off in the bottom of the second inning, lambasted Doug's first pitch for three bases, and the merry-go-round began, including a bases-loaded home run by Ken Dooley. The inning ended with the Red Arrows scoring six runs, bringing their total to eight.

  “Eight to nothing,” grumbled Kim as he sidled in between Larry and A. J. on the bench. “We're getting murdered!”

  “Don't let it get you down,” said Coach Stag from the corner of the dugout. “Most of you are still nervous. Don't worry. Playing this practice game is like getting the bugs out of a new car. By the time the league starts, you'll all be playing like last year's veterans.” He paused, and chuckled. “Well, almost, anyway,” he added.

  It was the top of the third and Doug led off. Crack! He leaned into Steve's first pitch for a long shallow drive to left field for an easy double.

  “On the go, gang!” Kim yelled, Doug's clout exciting him. “Blast it, Eric!”

  Eric came through with a single, scoring Doug, and the ice was broken. But only A. J. managed to get another hit during that half of the inning. It was a single, not long enough to score Eric.

  Again the Red Arrows enjoyed a hitting spree, including a double by Mick Davis with Steve Wolzik on base, and a triple by Jim Kramer, who scored on Kim's error in right field.

  “Wow! Eleven to one!” Kim moaned as he trotted into the dugout.

  “It should be only ten to one,” Eric said, grinning.

  “I know,” Kim admitted, but avoided discussing the fly ball he had missed. Everybody, including himself, knew that he should have caught it.

  “You're up, Kim!” called the coach. “Get your bat, fella!”

  Kim had barely sat down. That's right! he thought, hopping out of the dugout. That error must've shaken me up.

  He picked up his bat and hurried to the plate.

  4

  STEEEERIKE!” BOOMED THE UMP.

  Kim stepped out of the box, knowing that he would never see another pitch as good as that one was. He rubbed the sweat off his forehead and stepped back in.

  “Ball!” The throw was wide.

  “Ball two!” It was low.

  He stepped out of the box again, rubbed his hands in the soft dirt, patted off the excess dust, and stepped back in. Nervously, he waited for Steve's next pitch.

  It was in there. He swung. Crack! A long, high drive to deep center field!

  It wasn't long enough. Duke Pierce, taking three steps backward, caught it handily.

  Jo did no better, flying out to right field.

  “Wait 'em out, Cathy,” Coach Stag said to her as she started for the plate. “Let him pitch.”

  Cathy let five pitches go by for a three-two count, then cracked a double between left and center fields.

  “Beautiful, Cathy!” yelled the Steel-heads' fans.

  Joe Fedderson missed Doug's sizzling grounder, and Cathy advanced to third. Then Hank Stone fumbled Eric's hot liner at third, and Cathy scored.

  “See that?” said the coach. “They miss 'em, too.”

  Cathy can really hit, throw, and run, Kim thought. So can Jo. But why did they agree to play with us? They could have made the girls' baseball league in town.

  The thought left his mind as he saw Larry lambaste a three bagger to deep left, driving in Doug and Eric. That was it as Nick, pounding a ground ball to deep short, again failed by a step to score a hit.

  Eleven to four, the Red Arrows. That's not so bad, Kim thought. We have two more bats coming. We can still show the Red Arrows we've got a pretty good ball team.

  The Red Arrows failed to score during their turn at bat, but so did the Steelheads in the top of the fifth. In the bottom of the inning, however, the Red Arrows picked up one run, and it looked as if the game would end soon as both Eric and Larry made outs in the sixth. But then the Steelheads saw a ray of hope as Nick walked, A. J. singled, and Brad walked, filling the bases.

  “Keep us alive, Kim!” Coach Stag shouted as Kim stepped to the plate, thinking nervously, Why should I have to be the one to bat now?<
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  So far, his batting average was zero. He had struck out the first time up, and flied out the next two times. Steve Wolzik had nothing to worry about, even though he seemed to be a bundle of nerves on the mound.

  “Ball one!” shouted the ump as Steve's first pitch to Kim missed the plate by inches.

  “Ball two!” Inside.

  “Ball three!” Again it was inside.

  Third baseman Hank Stone trotted toward the mound, spoke a few seconds to Steve, then returned to his position.

  Steve stretched, and pitched.

  “Strike!” said the ump.

  Then, “Strike two!”

  Kim stepped out of the box, wiped his forehead, and heard the coach say, “Choke up on the bat, Kim!” He choked up on the bat and stepped into the box again. His palms were sweaty.

  Steve whirled in the pitch. The ball shot in shoulder high, and Kim swung.

  “Strike three!” yelled the ump as Kim's bat fanned the air.

  It was over, the Red Arrows winning, 12 - 4.

  “You guys and gals did fine,” Coach Stag said happily as he called the team around him. “There is nothing to be ashamed of. I'm really proud of you, Kim.” His eyes were almost invisible behind his dark sunglasses as he looked at Kim. “For hardly ever having played baseball at all before this year, your performance rates an A plus. Tell your dad that I'll make a baseball player out of you before the year's out!”

  Kim smiled. But I wonder why he'd think my father might be interested, he thought.

  “I want all of you here tomorrow evening, and every evening through Friday at six P. M. sharp,” the coach went on. “Our first league game is a week from today, and I'm hoping that you'll make a good showing then, too. Okay! See you tomorrow!”

  Not once during the week had anyone failed to show up at practice. Coach Stag was proud of the team's dedication, and promised that if the players kept up that spirit they might just finish the season as champions.

  There was something else that he wanted the players to learn, and that was a simple series of signs. They were “wait out the pitch,” “hit away,” “bunt,” and “steal.”

  By six o'clock Monday, when the Steelheads played the Herons in their first league game, the players were as familiar with the signs as they were with their own names.

  The Herons had first bats, and did nothing. Russ Coletti, who was pitching this game, served up left-handed pitches that set them down one, two, three.

  Eric, leading off for the Steelheads in the bottom of the first, drew a walk, then raced to second on Brad's sacrifice hunt. He perished there as A. J. struck out, and Larry flied out to center.

  Two errors and a hit put the Herons on the scoreboard for two runs in the top of the second. It wasn't till the bottom of the third that the Steelheads came alive again, spurred by Eric's walk, Brad's double, Larry's triple, and Cathy's single.

  In the bottom of the fourth Jo led off with a double, a blast between left and center fields, and scored on Russ's Texas Leaguer over short. The score was 4 - 2, in the Steelheads' favor, as the game went into the fifth inning.

  “I can't believe it!” A. J. exclaimed as he ran out to the field with Kim. “We're ahead, man!”

  “And by two runs!” Kim smiled, even though he had done nothing in the batting department so far to help the Steelheads.

  Then the dam collapsed. The Herons got onto Russ's pitches and hit him for four runs, one of which was a homer by Dick Algren, the Herons' eighth batter in their lineup.

  “Man, I can't believe it, Kim!” cried A. J., as he ran off the field with Kim. “Four runs! Just like that!”

  “Well, it isn't over yet,” said Kim, who had more confidence now in the Steel-heads than he had ever dreamed he would. “We were ahead before, we can get ahead again.”

  Cathy, leading off, pulled a walk. Then Kim, swinging and missing the first two pitches, connected with the third one. Boom! Instantly he knew that he had just hit the most solid drive in his brief baseball career. Dropping the hat and starting for first, he watched the ball sail deep out to left field, then disappear over the fence. A home run!

  He circled the bases, crossed the plate, and received an overwhelming ovation from the fans and his teammates.

  “Man!” cried A. J. as he shook Kim's hand. “I can't believe it! You really busted that one, man!”

  Kim grinned. “I can't believe it either,” he admitted, half in a daze.

  The two runs, all that the Steelheads earned that half inning, had tied up the score.

  Then the Herons came back again, scoring three runs to boost their tally to nine.

  “This is our last chance,” said Coach Stag, clapping his hands to stimulate his charges. “Let's go, gang! Let's go get 'em!”

  Eric flied out to left field, and Brad grounded out to short. Things didn't look good.

  Then A. J. connected with a sharp single through the hole at short. Larry, with a triple in the third inning, connected with a triple again! And Cathy, already with a single and a walk to her credit, banged out another single, scoring Larry!

  “One more run will tie it up!” yelled the coach enthusiastically, and every member of the team stood up, feeling that same enthusiasm, that same excitement.

  “Another homer, Kim!” Eric shouted, as Kim stepped into the batter's box. “You can do it, kid!”

  Kim hit the ball solidly, but it was a direct shot to the left fielder.

  He was out, and the game went to the Herons, 9 - 8.

  5

  IJUST REMEMBERED THAT I won't he able to make practice tomorrow,” Eric said to Kim as they started to leave the ball field together.

  “So what?” said Kim. “Coach Stag isn't going to boot you off the team just because you can't make practice.”

  “Yes, but I hate not to show up without telling him,” Eric replied disappointedly.

  “Well—” Kim glanced over his shoulder. “He's gone now. So call him up. He'd appreciate it.”

  “I think I will,” agreed Eric.

  It was almost two hours later when Kim received a phone call from Eric.

  “Know what? I don't think Coach Stag lives in Blue Hills,” said Erie.

  Kim frowned. “How do you know that?”

  “His name isn't in the phone book. There is no Stag in there.”

  “Well, how about that?” said Kim. He paused. “Eric, have you ever asked your parents if they know Coach Stag?”

  “Yes, I have, and they don't,” he said.

  “Okay. Well, don't worry about not letting him know that you can't make practice tomorrow. I'll tell him you tried to call him but couldn't find his name in the book.”

  “Okay, Kim. Thanks.”

  Kim hung up, wondering: If Coach Stag doesn't live in Blue Hills, where does he live? The nearest village is Croydon, which is at least ten miles away. He could live in the country, but even so his name would be listed in the phone directory if he had a phone.

  Maybe he lives in one of the half-dozen other towns listed in the directory, Kim thought. If not, he just doesn't have a phone, that's all.

  He picked up the directory and checked each town thoroughly for Stag. There were two listed in the town of Hayden, Stag, Henry, and Stag, Kermit, the only Stags in the book.

  Maybe they're relatives, he thought. Maybe they know where Gorman E. Stag lives.

  Vaguely worried, Kim put the directory away and walked into the living room, hoping he could forget about Coach Stag. He didn't know why he should let the coach bother him so, anyway. No one else on the team seems concerned about him, so why should I be? Kim thought.

  But it was impossible to erase the coach from his mind. Maybe it was because of his natural bent to be suspicious. His favorite books were detective stories and mysteries, science fiction running a close second. He had often daydreamed about working in a crime laboratory when he grew up. Dusting for fingerprints and searching for clues seemed like an exciting career, he figured. At the same time he'd help bring criminals
to justice.

  Of course Coach Stag is no criminal, Kim told himself. But why he picked up a brand new team, why he included an inexperienced player like Kim on it, and why he was anxious to have a good winning ball team were questions that needed answers. And only Coach Stag knew them.

  Someday I'm going to get up enough nerve to ask him, Kim promised himself.

  At practice the next afternoon he told the coach about Eric. “He tried to phone you,” said Kim, “but he couldn't find your name in the phone book.”

  “I don't have a phone,” the coach admitted. “Eric is all right, I hope?”

  “Yes. He just couldn't come today, that's all. He didn't tell me why.”

  “Okay.” The coach smiled. “Thanks for telling me, Kim.” He turned to Don Morgan. “Get the bats and balls out of the bag, Don. Hurry it up. We're a little late.”

  As Don began to loosen the string of the equipment bag, Kim considered asking the coach the questions that were constantly gnawing at his mind. Why did you pick up a team, Coach? Why did you ask me to be on it? And why are you so anxious to have a good winning ball team? But at the last minute he found his tongue tied. While he fought a mental battle to regain his courage, the coach's loud voice shattered his thoughts.

  “Okay, everybody except Brad, A. J. and Larry, out on the field!” he ordered. “Doug, throw 'em in!”

  Batting practice was starting. After the players batted around twice, the coach knocked out flies to the outfielders while Bernie Reese hit grounders to the infielders.

  The practice, a very thorough one, lasted an hour and a half. When it was over the coach informed the tired players that practice tomorrow would be at Lansdale Field, the other baseball park where the games were being played.

  “Can you give Eric that message, Kim?” asked the coach as he started to carry the equipment bag to his car.

  “Yes,” said Kim.

  “Fine. See you all tomorrow. Same time.”

  Mr. Reese unlocked the trunk of the car and the coach laid the bag into it. Then they entered the car and drove away.