Long Stretch At First Base Page 5

  “Why did he quit?”

  Bobby shrugged. “I don’t know, Mom. Maybe he thinks he hasn’t been playing well.”

  His mother took her pen back into the kitchen. Then she went to Kirby’s room. Bobby heard her say something to Kirby, and heard Kirby answer. But their voices were so soft and muffled he could not make out what they said.

  After a while Mrs. Jamison came out of the room.

  “Isn’t he coming, Mom?” Bobby asked.

  She shook her head. “No. He doesn’t want to. And nothing I say helps. You go alone, Bobby.”

  “What shall I tell Mr. Barrows?”

  Mrs. Jamison thought a moment. She shrugged her shoulders. “Just tell him Kirby doesn’t want to play.”

  Two deep furrows appeared between Bobby’s eyebrows as he walked to the door. He knew how Kirby felt, all right. He knew exactly.

  Bobby waited on the porch. Soon Mr. Gessini came along with his car. Bobby got in.

  “Where’s Kirby?” Jim Hurwitz asked. Jim was sitting in the front seat with Dave and Mr. Gessini.

  “He doesn’t want to come,” replied Bobby.

  Jim and Dave looked at him strangely. “Why not?” said Dave.

  Bobby climbed into the back seat. “I don’t know,” he said.

  They stopped for Tony Mandos. Tony also asked where Kirby was. Bobby told him.

  “Maybe he doesn’t feel well,” said Tony.

  Nobody said anything.

  Coach Barrows also wondered why Kirby didn’t show up. Bobby told him the same thing he had told the others.

  “Well, looks as if Tony will play the whole game,” said Mr. Barrows simply. “But it’s up to you, Bobby, to make those throws good to first base. Take your time. Tony can’t stretch out as far as Kirby can, you know.”

  “I’ll try,” promised Bobby.

  The Seals had first raps. For the Redbirds Curt Barrows had the line-up arranged as follows:

  B. JAMISON — shortstop

  A. DAKIN — second base

  T. WARREN — left field

  J. HURWITZ — center field

  D. GESSINI — catcher

  M. DONAHUE — third base

  J. ECHOLS — right field

  T. MANDOS — first base

  J. NICHOLS — pitcher

  The umpire named off the batteries for both teams. Then the Redbirds ran out to the field amid a roar of applause and horn-blowing.

  The Seals lead-off man took a called strike, then hit a dribbling grounder to third. Mark fielded it and threw him out with a perfect peg to first.

  I wish I could throw that straight, thought Bobby.

  The second hitter popped to first. The next hitter went the full count, then walked.

  The clean-up man looked over the first two pitches — one a ball, the other a strike. He belted the next just out of reach of pitcher Jack Nichols’s outstretched glove. Second baseman Al Dakin ran and made a stab at the ball. He caught it, tossed it underhand to Bobby, who raced hard to cover second. Out!

  Bobby, leading off in the last of the first, clouted the second pitch for a single. He got the steal signal from Mr. Barrows. As the ball zipped past the plate, Bobby took off like a jet. He slid safely into second, beating the throw by two feet.

  Bobby was in scoring position now. All that was needed was a hit.

  Dakin fanned. Toby hit a two-three pitch solidly to left field, but it was caught. Two outs. Bobby crossed his arms and stiffened his lips. Couldn’t anybody knock him in?

  Jim Hurwitz came up. Crack! A Texas leaguer over short. Bobby shot to third, touched the corner of the bag with his toe, and bolted hard for home. He scored standing up. Dave Gessini then flied out to center, ending the inning.

  The next two innings went by scoreless for both teams.

  In the top of the fourth, the Seals leadoff man banged a hot grounder to Bobby’s right side. Bobby fielded it nicely, pegged to first. A sick cry broke from his lips. The ball was wide! Tony Mandos couldn’t reach it, and the hitter was on.

  Bobby shook his head. Kirby would have caught that.

  The bad throw started off a rally for the Seals. They scored five runs. Mr. Barrows took Jack out and put in Cappie Brennan. The rally stopped.

  The Redbirds went hitless at their turn at bat. And Bobby took all the blame himself. That bad peg had started it all.

  In the fifth Tony missed another wide throw. This time the ball was thrown by second baseman Don Robinson, who had taken Al Dakin’s place. Cappie Brennan then threw in a home run pitch, which raised the Seals’ score to 7. The Redbirds managed to put three runs across when they batted, but it was not enough.

  In the sixth inning neither team hit safely. The game ended with the Seals winning, 7-4.

  “You have to come to the next game!” Bobby pleaded with Kirby that night. “We would’ve won today if you had played first. I made three bad throws. One of them started the rally. I know you would’ve caught those throws, Kirby. Everybody else said so, too.”

  “Well, your throws should have been better,” said Kirby quietly. “And I’ve played before, and we still lost.”

  “That’s not so,” said Bobby. “You helped us win two or three games by your catches at first. But that’s not the only reason you should go to the next game. Mr. Barrows said that scouts will be there.”

  “Scouts?” Kirby frowned.

  “You know! The men who are choosing the All-Stars,” said Bobby. “They’re going to be there to make the final selections for the All-Star game in Cooperstown. You can’t miss that, Kirby.”

  Kirby’s face dropped. “But I will. I’m not going. Tony’s better than I am, anyway. They’ll pick him, whether I’m there or not.”

  A lump that felt like a golf ball rose in Bobby’s throat. It hurt him to see Kirby feeling like this. “You must go, Kirby,” he insisted. “You’re better than Tony. I know you are. They’ll pick you for sure.”

  “I said I’m not going and that’s final!” Kirby almost shouted.

  Bobby stepped back from the whip-cracking sound of Kirby’s voice. He walked out of the room, Kirby’s harsh words ringing in his ears.

  On Friday, Bobby rode to the game again with Mr. Gessini, Dave, Jim, and Tony. His own father had not come home from work yet.

  Bobby felt very bad. For the first time in his life he was ashamed of his brother Kirby. He had always thought that Kirby had plenty of nerve to face any kind of situation.

  “I wish Kirby had come,” Tony said. “Now those men won’t be able to see him play again. They’ve seen him before and they might pick him if he was here.”

  Bobby looked up at Tony. Tears stung his eyes.

  “That’s exactly what I told Kirby,” he said. “But he wouldn’t listen. No matter what I said, he wouldn’t listen to me.”

  11

  SOME of the Mustangs players were at the field already. Bobby recognized Earl Lowe warming up. Earl was a tall, slender boy whose fire-red hair stuck out from under his black baseball cap like dried-up straw. He was a southpaw, one of the best pitchers in the league.

  “Oh-oh,” Dave murmured. “You see who’s starting for the Mustangs today?”

  “Lowe?” Jim pushed out his lower lip. “Aw, he’s not so hot. A couple of hits and he’ll go to pieces.”

  “I hope,” said Tony, and laughed.

  Curt Barrows and six or seven Redbirds were playing pitch and catch.

  “Where’s Kirby?” asked Mr. Barrows.

  “He’s not coming,” said Bobby.

  “Why not? Doesn’t he want to play baseball any more?” Mr. Barrows sounded very serious.

  Bobby’s heart thumped nervously. “I guess not.”

  The coach shook his head disgustedly. “Did he know that a couple of men were going to be here today to look over the players?”

  Bobby nodded. “I think so.”

  “Is that why he didn’t want to come?”

  Bobby’s heart beat harder. “I don’t know.”

  Stop
asking me questions about Kirby! he wanted to shout. I wanted him to come to the game. He didn’t want to. He’s home. He’s sitting in the living room, reading or watching TV. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that he’s afraid to come because it will hurt him if he isn’t picked on the All-Star team. Well — it’s true. I know that, too. And say it if you want to. Say he hasn’t got what it takes! Because I know that is true, too!

  Kirby can play ball, though. He can play first base better than any other player in the league. He doesn’t always hit, but he isn’t the poorest hitter, either! He’s better than Tony Mandos, or any other first baseman you care to name. He’s the best in the league! I know those men would pick him if he played today. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t think he’s any good at all.

  Ask him why he didn’t come! Don’t ask me!

  Bobby swallowed hard. He picked up a ball and called to Dave Gessini. “Come on, Dave. Let’s play catch.”

  After a while the Mustangs had their infield warm-up. When they were finished, the Redbirds had theirs.

  Bobby wished that black clouds would come sweeping across the blue sky and pour rain down in bucketfuls. He was sick of baseball. He was sick of everybody asking questions about Kirby. He would rather be home, watching his ants work in their ant-house, or catching grasshoppers for Manty, his praying mantis pet. Nobody would bother him then.

  At last the field was cleared of players. The two base umpires walked out to their positions behind first and third. The plate umpire held his mask in one hand and announced the batteries: “Pitching for the Mustangs — Earl Lowe! Catching — Bill Goff! For the Redbirds, Cappie Brennan is pitching — Dave Gessini, catching! Play ball!”

  No sooner had the words left his lips than Jim Hurwitz nudged Bobby on the arm.

  “Bobby, look!”

  Bobby turned. His breath caught.

  “Kirby!” he cried.

  Kirby was coming around the corner of the dugout. He had on his cap and jersey, and he was carrying his mitt. He walked up to Coach Barrows. He said something and Coach Barrows looked at him in surprise. Then Coach Barrows cracked a wide, happy grin and gave Kirby a friendly tap on the shoulder.

  “Thataboy, Kirby! I’m glad you came!” Bobby could just make out the coach’s words above the tooting horns.

  The Redbirds starting line-up was almost the same as it had been the other day. The only difference was that this time Tony batted ahead of Jerry Echols.

  The team ran out to the field. Dave, with his chest protector and shin guards buckled on, caught three warm-up pitches from Cappie, then heaved the ball to second.

  The Mustangs lead-off man took a called strike. Then he knocked a one-hop bounder to Cappie, who caught the ball and threw the runner out at first. The ball zipped around the horn.

  “Way to go, Cappie!” Bobby shouted. He was smiling. He felt good. He was glad that Kirby had come. He wished that Kirby was playing. With Kirby on first base, Bobby would never have to worry how wild a peg he threw.

  Kirby would stretch out his legs and arms as if they were made of rubber and thut! he’d have the ball.

  A pop-up to Tony and a bouncing ball to Mark Donahue ended the top of the first inning.

  Bobby received a rousing cheer as he stepped to the plate. Smack! The ball sailed over third base, curved and struck the ground in foul territory.

  “Come on, Bobby!” a fan yelled. “Straighten ’em out!”

  Bobby took a high pitch. Ball one.

  Another pitch — high and wide. Ball two.

  The red-headed southpaw for the Mustangs backed off the mound. He rubbed the ball in his hands and climbed to the mound again. He wound up, raised his right leg, and delivered. The ball came in like a white bullet. Bobby pulled back his bat and swung.

  Crack! A line drive over short!

  Bobby dropped his bat and scooted for first. He made his turn and raced for second. His cap and helmet fell off, but he kept going. He saw the center fielder pick up the ball. Bobby crossed second and headed for third. He ran hard, his sneakers kicking up dirt. He watched the third-base coach waving him on.

  “Come on, come on, come on!” the coach kept yelling.

  Bobby was a short distance away from the bag when he saw the ball bounce at his right. The Mustangs third baseman went after it. He caught the ball, started after Bobby with it.

  “Hit it!” cried the coach.

  Bobby slid toward the bag, just enough out of reach of the third baseman, and hooked the bag with the toe of his sneakers.

  “Safe!” yelled the umpire.

  A triple! Bobby stood up and brushed himself off. His ears rang with the whooping cries of the fans and the blaring horns of the cars.

  Al Dakin wiggled at the plate, and finally struck out. Bobby got nervous. After a hit like that, he wished that somebody would knock him in.

  Toby Warren came through. He punched a single over second. Bobby scored. Jim Hurwitz flied out to left. The coach held Toby on first. Then Dave belted a grounder to short. Toby was running when Dave connected. The shortstop missed the ball, and Toby bolted for third.

  The throw-in was wild and Toby scored. Earl Lowe fanned Mark, ending the inning. The score was: Redbirds — 2, Mustangs — 0.

  “I told you guys a couple of hits and Lowe would go to pieces,” Jim said as he ran out across the diamond with Bobby and Al Dakin.

  “Let’s hope he stays that way,” said Al, smiling.

  Cappie threw six pitches to the first Mustangs batter and walked him. The next hitter bunted. Cappie raced in. He slid on the grass as he started to field the ball, and could not make the play.

  Men on first and second. No outs. A good time for a double play, thought Bobby.

  Crack! A grounder to second. Al Dakin came up with it, pivoted on his right foot, and threw the ball to Bobby. Bobby stepped on second for the put-out, and heaved the pill to first.

  Too wide! Tony stretched, but he couldn’t reach it! The ball bounced by, rolled toward the fence. The runner advanced to second. The runner who had been on second scored.

  Bobby shook his head hopelessly. He was sure Kirby would have caught that ball. But why did he always throw so wild? The guys will really believe that I’m making Tony look poor on purpose, he thought unhappily.

  “Come on, Bobby,” said Jim from the outfield. “Throw ’em right, will you?”

  Cappie mowed the next man down on strikes. The next Mustang popped out to Bobby.

  In the dugout, Coach Barrows warned Bobby about his throws. “Take your time. Aim for Tony’s head,” he said.

  Tony Mandos led off. He took a called strike, then a ball. Bobby watched Tony carefully. Here was the boy those officials were watching. Tony looked good at the plate. He stood with his feet apart, his knees bent slightly inward, his bat held off his shoulder. He had a nice build, too.

  Crack! Up — up soared the ball like a tiny white meteor toward the outfield. The whole dugout emptied as the players swarmed out and watched the ball sail. Finally it curved down and disappeared over the center field fence.

  Tony trotted around the bases. Once again Coach Barrows and the rest of the players surrounded Tony and shook his hand.

  That was the only run the Redbirds scored that inning.

  12

  CAPPIE smiled as he warmed up with Dave. It was good to have a two-run lead.

  The smile left his face immediately, though, after he threw the first pitch to the Mustangs lead-off hitter. The ball zoomed like a rocket between left and center fields. Both Toby and Jim raced after it.

  Bobby’s heart went cold. Toby and Jim were going to collide!

  “Watch out!” he shouted. “Let Toby have it! Toby!”

  Just as the ball was about to hit the ground, Toby reached out his glove, and caught it! Jim skimmed past him.

  Bobby gulped. Boy! He thought they were going to hit for sure!

  The next batter knocked a dribbler to short. Bobby charged in after it. I have to make this throw good, he t
hought. I must!

  He reached for the ball. It took a bad hop, struck him on the knee. He leaped after it, picked it up, heaved it desperately to first.

  Wild again!

  Tony left the bag, stabbed at the ball with his mitt. He caught it, raced back to the bag. But the runner beat him to it.

  Bobby turned around disgustedly. His throwing was wrecking the game.

  Then Mark missed a grounder, followed by an error by right fielder Jerry Echols which gave the Mustangs two more runs. The score was tied now, 3-3.

  “Let’s settle down!” Coach Barrows shouted from the dugout. “Let’s play ball out there!”

  Man on third. A grounder to Bobby. He fielded the ball, pegged it to Dave, who was standing across home plate with his mask off. Dave caught the ball, put it on the runner.

  “Out!” shouted the ump.

  Bobby ran to cover second. Al was already there. Bobby took a deep, satisfied breath as he turned and headed for his position at short. He didn’t know how he had done it, but that throw to Dave was perfect.

  Cappie struck out the next Mustang hitter.

  “We have that bad inning out of our system,” said Coach Barrows. “Now, let’s get in there and play baseball.”

  Al Dakin led off in the top of the third inning. He wiggled at the plate till a 2-2 count was on him, then cut hard and missed Earl Lowe’s in-curve by six inches. Al sat down in the dust, facing the catcher with a very foolish look on his face.

  Toby got on first by an error on the third baseman. Jim belted a fly to left that went foul, then drove one just inside the third-base sack. Toby circled to third, and Jim stopped on second for a double. Dave poled a long fly that went foul by an arm’s length, then hit into a double play. They had lost a wonderful opportunity in gaining the lead.

  The Mustangs came up and knocked two runs across before the Redbirds got them out. As Bobby expected, Coach Barrows made changes. He put Bert Chase in Bobby’s place, and Dick Carachi in Jim Hurwitz’s place.

  Mark fanned. Tony Mandos came up. Why doesn’t Mr. Barrows replace him? Bobby thought sourly. Why doesn’t he put in Kirby?

  But this was only Tony’s second raps. Maybe that was why.