The Diamond Champs Read online

  “Brad, did you ever practice so much last year when you played baseball?” Kim asked wonderingly, so tired he wanted to lie down.

  “Never.”

  “Me, either,” said A. J. “The way Coach Stag is working us out you'd think that he was serious about us winning the championship!”

  Practice the next day lasted only an hour and fifteen minutes. The whole squad was there except Coach Stag. There was no explanation of his absence, hut the practice went along very well. Mr. Reese seemed to understand the game as well as Coach Stag.

  If anybody knows where the coach lives, Mr. Reese should, thought Kim.

  “Mr. Reese, where does Coach Stag live?” he asked. “I've looked for his name in the phone book, but I can't find it.”

  Mr. Reese, lifting the filled equipment bag to his shoulder, glanced at Kim.

  “On Beaver Street,” he answered. “Six seventeen Beaver. Why?”

  Kim shrugged. “I just wanted to know.”

  6

  WHEN THE STEELHEADS tangled with the Magpies, both teams were hitting well as the game went into the top of the fourth inning. The Steelheads led, 4 - 3. Doug was pitching, and the Magpies were at bat.

  Crack! A Magpie hit a shot over second base for a clean single. Another single and a walk loaded the bases. And Kim, in right field, couldn't believe how a situation could become so grim so quickly.

  Doug proceeded to take his time now, obviously not happy by the sudden turn of events. He stretched, and threw. Crack! The ball, an outside pitch to the right-handed hatter, sailed out to deep right. Kim backed up, his heart rising to his throat as he saw how high the ball had climbed into the blue sky. He waited for it to drop. It was like a white pea, gradually growing larger as it kept coming down. Holding his glove in readiness for it, Kim held his breath.

  The ball hit the heel of his glove, dropped to the ground, and bounced away. Kim bolted after it, scooped up the ball, and heaved it to first base. He could see that a runner had crossed the plate, and that a second runner was on the way home.

  A. J., catching Kim's throw, turned and whipped the ball home. The throw was high. The runner slid in to the plate and scored.

  Five to four, Magpies. Runners were still on second and third.

  Why wasn't that ball hit to left field, or center field? Kim thought despairingly. Why did it have to be hit to me?

  A double scored two more runs before Doug fanned two batters. The third out came on a pop fly to Eric. Seven to four.

  “I don't know why you ever asked me to play, Coach,” said Kim cheerlessly as he came in and sat down on the bench. “I should've caught that ball in my hip pocket.”

  “If you did, you'd have major league scouts looking you over.” The coach smiled. “Listen, Kim, playing baseball is like a lot of things in life, except that it has something extra to it. Fun. Otherwise, it's just as competitive as anything else you'll ever come up against the rest of your life. I know that it's been very new to you, and that's good. You've learned the game, and the rules. You've met with some successes, and some failures. Kim, it wasn't all an easy thing for Hank Aaron to have broken Babe Ruth's home-run record, you know. He had gotten out many times before that had happened. It's the same with football or basketball players, the same with doctors, lawyers, teachers, cops—everyone who tries to make something of himself in this big, competitive world of ours knows something about failure.”

  He slapped Kim on the knee and stood up. “Just keep plugging, Kim. No one is going to bawl you out for missing a fly as long as you do your best in trying to catch it. Okay?”

  Kim, feeling much better, nodded. “Okay.”

  The Steelheads went hitless as Nick grounded out to short, and Jo and Doug flied out to the outfield.

  The Magpies got a man on in the top of the fifth, but failed to knock him in. Eric, leading off for the Steelheads, cracked a single. But he too failed to score as the Magpies' defense gobbled up the balls hit out to them.

  In the top of the sixth the Magpies' leadoff batter walked, then scored on an over-the-left-field-fence home run—9 - 4, Magpies.

  Cathy, first up for the Steelheads in the bottom of the sixth, doubled to get them rolling for their last chance to win, then scored on Kim's Texas Leaguer hit over short. But that was it. Neither Nick nor Jo was able to connect safely, and the game went to the Magpies, 9 - 5.

  “I heard that speech Coach Stag gave you in the dugout,” Doug said to Kim as they headed for the gate. “What do you think of him now?”

  “I think he's all right,” replied Kim. “I have, ever since he organized the team. I've just wondered why he's done it, that's all.”

  “Because he wants to win the championship, that's why,” said Doug.

  “Don't you think it's strange that he picked up a team like us to win it?”

  “Maybe most kids were already signed up to play with other teams,” replied Doug. “I wasn't when he called me.”

  “Well, no one was. But I still think it's real strange,” commented Kim.

  They walked through the gate and headed up the street.

  “Did you ever notice the sound of his voice?” asked Cathy suddenly.

  Kim looked at her. “Yes. Especially when he was talking to me today. It's kind of raspy. Is that what you mean?”

  “Yeah!” said Nick, his eyes widening. “I've noticed it, too! It sounds as if he's trying to change it from what it really sounds like!”

  “How do you know?” said Doug. “We've only known him since baseball season started. Maybe he's always talked like that.”

  “Come to think of it, I've noticed that, too,” said Jo. “I've always thought it was natural, though. But I've also noticed something else that looks strange about him.”

  Kim frowned. “What, Jo?”

  “His chest,” she replied. “It's almost rounded, as if he's got it built up. And ever since we've seen him he's always worn that same baseball jersey. Never anything else, like a sweatshirt, for example.”

  Kim nodded. “That's right,” he said. “Maybe he's someone we know. Maybe, for reasons of his own, he's disguised himself to hide his real identity.”

  “Could he be a criminal?” Jo asked breathlessly.

  All eyes swung toward her.

  “What about that speech he gave you?” Doug said to Kim. “Do you really think a criminal would bother to talk to you like that? Do you really think a criminal would take the time to knock out flies and grounders, and teach us how to play better baseball? If you do, you're out of your mind!”

  Striking a fist into the pocket of his glove, he took off on a run, and soon was far ahead of the rest of the Steelheads.

  7

  THE STEELHEADS PLAYED two games the next week, beating the Fire Fighters 7 - 4, and losing to the Red Arrows, 10 - 9.

  The fifty percent average didn't satisfy the coach, however. “We've got to play better ball, kids,” he insisted. “We've just got to. Okay?”

  Kim paid special attention now to the coach's raspy voice. Was it natural, or was the coach trying to disguise his real voice? Or, as Jo had suggested, was he really a criminal of some sort?

  In spite of Doug's scoffing at Jim and Jo for that wild suggestion, Kim didn't think that the idea was too farfetched. A. J. and Brad thought that they were nuts too for even thinking it, but Kim wouldn't change his mind. He refused to be convinced that the coach was or was not an outlaw until he got proof who the coach really was.

  But how was he going to do that?

  I'll go to 617 Beaver Street, thought Kim. That's how. I'll pay him a visit. I'll tell him that I was walking by and just wanted to say hello.

  The more he thought about it the more nervous he became. Suppose the coach really was a bad guy? What then? What would he say? What would he do?

  Kim considered asking Eric to go with him. Two would be better than one, he thought. Moreover, a second person could provide proof of whatever Kim found out.

  He mulled over the idea for an hour, then tele
phoned Eric and explained his plan. The wire was silent for a moment, and Kim wondered if Eric was reluctant to go with him.

  “I don't know, Kim,” Eric answered finally. “Do you think that's a good idea?”

  “How else can we find out who the coach really is?” said Kim.

  “Ask him.”

  “Ask him?” echoed Kim. “Me ask him?”

  “Well, you're the one who wonders more about who the coach is than anyone else on the team,” replied Eric. “Yes, I think you should be the one to ask him.”

  “Then you don't want to go with me to his home?”

  “Why don't you ask him at Monday's practice?”

  “Not with all the kids around, I won't,” said Kim.

  “Okay. Will you ask him if I go with you?”

  Kim hesitated. “No,” he said honestly. “Look, Eric, why don't we just go to his home? Can't we just tell by the way he lives whether he's a crook?”

  “It sounds crazy,” Eric said.

  “Then you don't want to go?”

  “I told you, Kim. It sounds crazy. Just think about it. Doesn't it sound crazy?”

  “I've already thought about it,” said Kim. “Okay. See you at practice.”

  At practice on Monday, neither Kim nor Eric said anything more about visiting the coach at his home. Nothing was said on Tuesday either, although there were suspicious glances exchanged between Eric, Jo, Doug, and Kim. Kim hoped that the coach didn't become suspicious himself about the strange behavior of the kids. If he did, he kept it to himself. Which was strange, if you thought of it, Kim mused. Wouldn't it be natural for the coach to question them if he saw that they were behaving unnaturally?

  It seemed, though, that all the coach was really interested in was training the team to win ball games.

  “We're playing the Blue Jays tomorrow,” he said after Tuesday's practice. “Let's make up our minds that we'll beat them, okay? It's that mental attitude that counts. Always that mental attitude.”

  And always that first and foremost thought, Kim reflected. To win the championship.

  There was a change in the lineup for the Blue Jays game.

  Roger Merts third base

  Larry Wells left field

  Nick Forson catcher

  A. J. Campbell first base

  Jack Henderson shortshop

  Sam Jacobs right field

  Jo Franklin second base

  Moe Harris center field

  Doug Barton pitcher

  So I'm not playing today, thought Kim. He's giving us turns, which is okay with me.

  It made more sense to play Roger at third than Eric, anyway, Kim reflected as he watched the right-hander throwing the ball to first in the pregame practice. After all this time, Eric was still awkward in throwing the ball left-handed to first base after catching a grounder. It would certainly seem obvious to the coach, but do you think he'd make a change? No. It seemed that he had a special reason for playing Eric there.

  The Steelheads had first bats, and Roger started off the game with a hot grounder through short. Larry bunted him to second. And Nick, after fouling two pitches to the backstop, cracked a two bagger that scored Roger. Anyone else except heavy-footed Nick might have stretched the hit into a triple.

  A. J. went down swinging, and Jack popped out to second—1 - 0, Steelheads.

  The Blue Jays threatened to score when they got two men on base with two hits, but strong defensive plays after that kept the runners from scoring.

  It wasn't until the fourth inning that the Steelheads' bats began pounding out hits again. A. J. got a triple with two on, and then scored on Jack's smashing single over short. Jo kept up the rally with a double, and then scored on Moe's streaking hit over the third-base bag. Five runs crossed the plate before the Blue Jays managed to stop them—6 - 0, Steelheads.

  The kids were happy, but the coach was even happier.

  “With that lead we should coast,” he said, a tone of merriment in his raspy voice. “But we won't. We're not going to take a single chance of losing.”

  The team nodded as a unit. Kim met Doug's eyes. Well, do you still think he's some sort of crook? they seemed to ask.

  I'm still not sure, Kim wanted to reply.

  The Blue Jays picked up a run in the bottom of the fifth and two in the bottom of the sixth. But the three runs weren't enough. The Steelheads took the game, 6 - 3.

  “Nice playing, gang!” Coach Stag praised the team. “Let's keep it up! We'll win the championship if you play as you did today. I know we will.”

  “Is there practice tomorrow, Coach?” Jo asked.

  “Yes. But not on Monday,” replied the coach. “We've got two games next week. I'm hoping that we won't have to practice in between games anymore.”

  Jo's eyes shone. “I wouldn't care,” she said. “I love it!”

  “So do I,” admitted Nick.

  From the pleased looks on the faces of the other players, Kim was sure that none of them minded the practices either, even though the practices were usually tougher than the games.

  “It will depend, though,” said the coach. “If we start losing, we will practice. So let's keep winning. Okay, see you tomorrow.”

  Mr. Rollins walked home with Kim and Eric. This was the second game he had attended, and he seemed impressed by the Steelheads' showing.

  “You kids played real well,” he said. “I'm surprised, though, that Coach Stag didn't have you all play.”

  “He's got a system of his own, Dad,” explained Kim. “His lineup is different for each game, but there are no substitutions. Anyone who doesn't play in one game will play in the next.”

  His father shrugged. “That is different, all right.” Then he chuckled, and added, “Watching you kids play makes me realize how time flies. I only know a few of the kids on your team, but I used to play with their fathers. Know what that means? I'm getting old, man!”

  “What position did you play, Mr. Rollins?” Eric asked.

  “Right field.”

  “The same as me,” said Kim.

  “Hey, that's a coincidence,” said Eric, wide-eyed with surprise. “I play third, and my dad used to play third.”

  Kim looked at him. “Is your father left-handed like you are?”

  “No.”

  “Lars?” Mr. Rollins chuckled. “He was definitely right-handed, and one of the best third basemen in northern New York. I've never seen anyone who fielded bunts as he did, nor who could throw as hard. If he were able to hit as well as field, he would've gone up to the big leagues.”

  Eric grinned. “My mother used to say the same thing, Mr. Rollins,” he said proudly.

  8

  THE STEELHEADS WON THE next two games, beating the Herons and the Magpies for a record of four wins against three losses.

  “We're getting there,” said Coach Stag. “Slowly but surely we're getting there.”

  He seemed extremely pleased, yet Kim noticed that his facial expression hardly changed. I wish I could see his eyes, Kim thought. But they were shielded, as always, behind the dark sunglasses.

  The next game was on Wednesday against the Red Arrows. It was the only game the Steelheads had scheduled for that week. Doug was pitching and not doing as well as he had in previous games, yielding five hits and four runs in the first two innings.

  The Steelheads, batting in the top of the third, again went through the half inning without a run in spite of Doug's two-base hit. But they held the Red Arrows scoreless in the bottom half of the inning. Did that mean anything? Were the Steelheads showing some improvement? I sure hope so, thought Kim, as Larry Wells stepped to the plate to start off the top of the fourth inning.

  Steve Wolzik, pitching for the Red Arrows, tried to bait Larry with wide and inside pitches, but Larry refused to bite. After a three-two count, Larry took another ball and walked.

  “Wait 'em out, Cathy,” advised the coach, as Cathy Andrews strode to the plate, snuggling the helmet down over her locks.

  She took two strik
es, then checked her swing from a pitch that turned out to be a ball. Steve missed the strike zone with another. Then Cathy socked a knee-high pitch directly to Mick Davis, who was covering second base. Mick flipped the ball to second to nab Larry. Joe Fedderson, the Red Arrows' sparkling shortstop, zipped the ball to first for a quick double play.

  Kim, starting for the plate, saw the coach swing around and kick angrily at the sod. But he quickly turned back, apparently composed again, and began clapping his hands. “Okay, Kim!” he yelled. “It's never too late! Get your hit!”

  Kim did, smashing a single over second base. Nick followed suit, driving a single through short that advanced Kim to third. Kim slid into the bag on the throw in from center, safe by a yard.

  “Drive 'em in, Jo!” yelled Moe Harris, the third-base coach.

  Crack! It was another single, a high hopping grounder through second. Mick, making a dive for it, almost caught it. The ball bounced out to left center field and Kim ran in to score. Nick started for third, but Moe held him back.

  Doug, up next, walked, loading the bases.

  Excitement bubbled among the players on the Steelheads' bench. The top of the batting order was up: Eric, Brad, and A. J. They were the best hitters on the club. But there were two outs. Eric, even though he hadn't hit safely yet, had been meeting the ball. This could be his right moment.

  It was! He laid into Steve's first pitch and lambasted it for a double between left and center fields! Nick and Jo scored.

  “Keep it up, Brad!” yelled Coach Stag. “Just meet the ball!”

  Brad met the ball, but it was a line drive directly at Joe Fedderson. Three outs.

  “That's all right!” cried Coach Stag happily. “We've picked up three runs! We'll pick up more!”

  Again the Red Arrows failed to score, not even getting a hit as Doug mowed down the batters, one … two … three.

  A. J., leading off in the top of the fifth, pulled a walk, and Kim's heart began to pound. Is this going to be a repetition of the fourth inning? he thought excitedly.

  Larry powdered a fly to left field. It was caught.