The Atlanta Alibi, page 1
BALLPARK MYSTERIES®
#1 The Fenway Foul-Up
#2 The Pinstripe Ghost
#3 The L.A. Dodger
#4 The Astro Outlaw
#5 The All-Star Joker
#6 The Wrigley Riddle
#7 The San Francisco Splash
#8 The Missing Marlin
#9 The Philly Fake
#10 The Rookie Blue Jay
#11 The Tiger Troubles
#12 The Rangers Rustlers
#13 The Capital Catch
#14 The Cardinals Caper
#15 The Baltimore Bandit
#16 The Colorado Curveball
#17 The Triple Play Twins
#18 The Atlanta Alibi
SUPER SPECIAL #1 The World Series Curse
SUPER SPECIAL #2 Christmas in Cooperstown
SUPER SPECIAL #3 Subway Series Surprise
SUPER SPECIAL #4 The World Series Kids
The MVP Series
#1 The Gold Medal Mess
#2 The Soccer Surprise
#3 The Football Fumble
#4 The Basketball Blowout
Babe Ruth and the Baseball Curse
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2022 by David A. Kelly
Cover art and interior illustrations copyright © 2022 by Mark Meyers
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Kelly, David A. (David Andrew), author. | Meyers, Mark, illustrator. | Kelly, David A. (David Andrew), Ballpark mysteries; 18.
Title: The Atlanta alibi / by David A. Kelly; illustrated by Mark Meyers.
Description: New York: Random House Children’s Books, 2022. | Series: Ballpark mysteries; 18 | “A Stepping Stone book.”
Summary: When cousins Mike and Kate discover that the bat and ball that Hank Aaron used to hit his 715th home run have gone missing from the Atlanta Braves ballpark, apparently by someone who wants the Braves’ manager fired—Mike and Kate are determined to solve the mystery and get the stolen artifacts back.
Identifiers: LCCN 2021005570 | ISBN 978-0-593-12627-1 (trade pbk.) |
ISBN 978-0-593-12628-8 (lib. bdg.) | ISBN 978-0-593-12629-5 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Atlanta Braves (Baseball team)—History—Juvenile literature. | Baseball stories. | Theft—Juvenile fiction. | Cousins—Juvenile fiction. | Detective and mystery stories. | Atlanta (Ga.)—Juvenile fiction. | CYAC: Atlanta Braves (Baseball team)—Fiction. | Baseball—Fiction. | Stealing—Fiction. | Cousins—Fiction. | Atlanta (Ga.)—Fiction. | Mystery and detective stories. | LCGFT: Detective and mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.K2936 At 2022 | DDC 813.6 [Fic]—dc23
Ebook ISBN 9780593126295
This book has been officially leveled by using the F&P Text Level Gradient™ Leveling System.
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This book is dedicated to my younger self. As a kid, I struggled to read. I hated to write. And I didn’t know much about baseball. But because I worked hard, listened to my teachers and editors, and never gave up, I have managed to write twenty-two Ballpark Mysteries books.
—D.A.K.
Roberta, John, Jinna, Sarah, and Taline—it has been wonderful playing on your team!
—M.M.
“The way I see it, it’s a great thing to be the man who hit the most home runs, but it’s a greater thing to be the man who does the most with the home runs he hits.”
—Hank Aaron
Contents
Cover
Also by David A. Kelly
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1: Hammerin’ Hank
Chapter 2: A Swing and a Miss
Chapter 3: A Tough Choice
Chapter 4: Little Red Herrings
Chapter 5: Captured
Chapter 6: One Last Game
Chapter 7: A New Manager
Chapter 8: A Secret Message
Chapter 9: Getting a Handle on Things
Chapter 10: Coach for a Day
Dugout Notes Atlanta Braves
A Note from the Author
“Uh-oh, another bad call!” Mike Walsh said to his cousin Kate Hopkins. “Watch this. Tommy’s going to explode!”
The Atlanta Braves’ manager, Tommy Blocks, shot out of the team’s dugout. The Braves were two runs behind the Boston Red Sox in the eighth inning. Even though it was close, the umpire had just called the Braves’ Pete Uker out at first.
Tommy ran over to the first-base umpire and started yelling. He pointed at Pete and waved his arms wildly. “Are you even paying attention?” he cried. “He was safe! Like a bank. Go back to Little League!”
The umpire stepped closer to Tommy. “Out! He was out!” the umpire called. “And you will be, too, if you keep it up!”
Tommy waved his arms at first base. “Wake up, ump,” he shouted. Tommy glanced at his team in the dugout. “Hey! Look, guys, the circus is in town and the clowns are wearing blue!”
The Atlanta fans cheered and whistled.
The umpire leaned closer to Tommy. “That’s it!” he said. “I’m the umpire. You’re the one acting like a clown!”
“Well, get out your little broom, then,” Tommy said. “Because you’re going to need to clean up your act!”
Tommy stepped back and started kicking the dirt. Clouds of dust flew onto the umpire’s shoes and pants.
The crowd stood and exploded with cheers.
The umpire looked down at the swirls of dirt hitting his legs. Then he threw his arm out and pointed to the stands.
“YOU’RE OUT OF THE GAME!” the umpire yelled. “NOW!”
Tommy stopped kicking at the ground. He puffed his chest out and bumped into the umpire. A small smile crossed his face. “Oh, I’m going,” he said. “But I’ll be back!”
Tommy kicked one last cloud of dust and disappeared down the stairs into the Atlanta locker room.
The fans cheered.
“That’s the one hundred and sixty-first time Tommy’s been thrown out of a game!” Mike said. “It’s the most for any major-league manager! He says it gets the team fired up and helps them win.”
“Well, it may help them win,” Kate said, “but I don’t know if he’s making any friends acting like that!”
It was a Thursday night in May, and Kate and Mike were in Atlanta, Georgia, at an Atlanta Braves baseball game. They had flown down from their home in Cooperstown, New York, earlier that day with Kate’s mom. She worked as a sports reporter and was covering the weekend series between the Braves and the Boston Red Sox. Mrs. Hopkins was working up in the press box. Kate and Mike had seats near the Braves dugout.
“I hope Big D will be in tomorrow’s game,” Mike said. “Maybe we can wave to him on the field!”
Big D was Mike and Kate’s friend and the star hitter on the Boston Red Sox. He was sitting out tonight’s game because of an injury.
“I’m sure he will be,” Kate said. She pointed to the wide-mouth cup Mike was holding. “How are those boiled peanuts?” she asked. “They’re a Southern specialty.”
Mike dipped his finger in the container of wet peanuts and stirred them around. “Well,” he said, “it’s a little weird that they’re soft. But I like them, because they are salty!”
Mike put the cup on the ground and pulled a baseball out from the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt. He had bought the ball earlier that night. It was a special Henry “Hank” Aaron edition, with the famous hitter’s signature printed on it. Mike tossed it from hand to hand.
“I can’t wait to try this ball on the field at home,” he said. “Since it’s a Hank Aaron ball, I bet I can hit it a mile!”
“Maybe you can compare it to Hank’s famous home run ball tomorrow afternoon,” Kate said. She pointed to the rows of seats above left field. “My mom arranged a private tour of the Hank Aaron Terrace up there before the game. We’ll get to see the ball and bat that Hammerin’ Hank used to hit home run number seven hundred and fifteen to beat Babe Ruth’s home run record!”
“Cool!” Mike said as he dropped the baseball in his lap. He clenched his hands and pretended to swing a bat. “Pow! Hammerin’ Hank versus me, the Sultan of Swat! Wait until I get up to bat! Then we’ll really see who’s the King of Swing!”
Kate rolled her eyes and checked the scoreboard. The Braves were still behind by two, and it was the ninth inning.
“Well, the Braves could really use one of you,” Kate said. “Hammerin’ Hank or Moon-Shot Mike. They need at least three runs to win.”
But unfortunately, the Braves didn’t have anyone like that on their team tonight. When they got up to bat, one hitter after another struck out. Three up. Three down. The Braves had lost. Tommy’s outburst against the umpire hadn’t worked.
As they stood up to leave, Mike started searching around. He lifted the seat and looked underneath it.
“Hey, Kate, hang on a minute,” Mike said. “My Hank Aaron baseball is missing!”
“Really?” Kate asked. “Where could it be?”
Mike dropped to his knees and scanned the cement floor. “I don’t know,” he said. “I had it a while ago.”
Kate looked at Mike and started laughing.
“Hey, this isn’t funny!” Mike said. As his face started to turn red, his freckles stood out even more. “I just bought that ball tonight!”
“Well then, let me help you,” Kate said. She reached over Mike’s shoulder and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head. As she did, something dropped out.
BONK!
“Ouch!” Mike said as he jumped to the side.
BOING!
His Hank Aaron baseball bounced on the ground!
Kate laughed as Mike scooped his ball up. “You left it on the floor earlier,” she said. “I thought you’d forget it, so I secretly slipped it into your hood. That way I knew you wouldn’t lose it!”
“Thanks a lot!” Mike said.
“No problem, cuz,” Kate said. “Happy to help! Come on, let’s go find my mom!”
* * *
—
The next day, Mike, Kate, and Mrs. Hopkins arrived at the Braves stadium in the middle of the afternoon. It was hours until that night’s game, but they had arrived early for a tour of the Hank Aaron Terrace.
Ahead of them was the Braves Monument Garden, an area with exhibits of Braves retired numbers, Gold Glove Awards, Silver Slugger Awards, different Braves jerseys, and Braves history. Large pictures of famous Braves players hung along the edge of the monument area, and a rustle of voices rose from a crowd on the far side.
“Oh, cool!” Mike said. “Monument Garden! But why is there a crowd?”
“The Braves are having a party for Tommy Blocks to celebrate his twenty-fifth year of managing the Braves,” Mrs. Hopkins said. “They invited us reporters, and I thought you might enjoy stopping by before our tour. Some of the baseball players from the Braves and the Red Sox will be here, and, of course, Tommy Blocks. In fact, he’s right over there.” She pointed to a group standing next to a life-size Hank Aaron statue.
“Woo-hoo!” Mike said. He pulled out a marker and his baseball. “Even though he’s a bit of a bully, maybe I can get him to sign this! Come on, Kate.”
“Thanks, Mom!” Kate said. She gave her mother a hug and took off after Mike.
Mike and Kate ran up the Monument Garden walkway. At the top was a large bronze statue of Hank Aaron slugging home run number 715, the one that beat Babe Ruth’s famous record. Behind the statue stood a sculpture of the number 715 made from 715 baseball bats. Each bat represented one of Hank’s home runs.
A small group huddled around manager Tommy Blocks. Mike and Kate stepped up to listen as Tommy joked with the crowd. A broad-shouldered man in front of Mike and Kate had just poured a few red gummy candies from a yellow bag into his palm.
“This is my first-base coach, ‘Smarty’ Marty Miller,” Tommy said. He glanced at Marty’s candy. “He’s got a sweet tooth, but I call him ‘Smarty’ because he thinks he knows everything!”
Marty smiled. “Aww, Tommy, you know I think you’re great,” he said as he popped a few candies in his mouth. “But if you ever want to take a break from coaching and retire, let me know and I’d be happy to fill in for you!”
“Oh, thanks, Marty,” Tommy said. He pointed over his shoulder. “Hey, can y’all watch my back?” he said as he jabbed Marty lightly in the ribs. “This guy would take me out if he thought he could get my job. I know you’re just hoping I’ll retire so you can be coach. Sorry, Smarty, but not a chance!”
Marty smiled and bowed slightly. “Just trying to help, Tommy,” he said. “Don’t get excited.”
“That’s not the type of help that I need,” Tommy said. He jabbed a finger at a compact man with sharp blue eyes, neatly combed hair, and a trim beard.
“Oliver, you used to be an umpire! I know you didn’t always agree with me, but I’d still love to have you back out there as plate umpire. I need umpires that see things my way.”
Oliver cracked a tight smile. “Thanks, Tommy,” he said slowly. “But maybe if you didn’t give umpires such a hard time, they’d go along with you a bit more. We don’t want to fight. We just want to call ’em like we see ’em.”
Oliver patted Tommy on the shoulder. “It’s nice to be retired so I don’t have to make calls that get you upset,” he said. “But maybe it is time for you to consider retirement, like Marty said!”
“Ah! It always comes back to Marty and my retirement, doesn’t it?” Tommy roared. “I told you he was after my job!”
Tommy slapped Marty on the back and gave a big laugh. A few moments later, the group broke up and people moved on.
Mike stepped forward and held out his baseball and marker. “Would you please sign my ball, Mr. Blocks?” he asked. “I’m Mike Walsh, and this is my cousin Kate.”
“Sure,” Tommy said with a smile. “As long as you don’t grow up to be umpires. Or first-base coaches!”
“Nope,” Kate said as Tommy signed the baseball. “Mike’s going to be a baseball hitter like Hank Aaron or Big D, and I’m going to be a veterinarian.”
“Thanks for the autograph,” Mike said to Tommy. “We’ve got to get going, but good luck tonight!”
Tommy nodded and waved goodbye.
Kate and Mike ran over to Mrs. Hopkins. She was standing near an elevator on the other side of the hallway. With her was Oliver, the retired umpire who had been joking with Tommy.
“Mike, Kate, this is Oliver,” Mrs. Hopkins said as they arrived. “He’s going to give us a tour of the Hank Aaron Terrace. He used to be a major-league umpire, but now he works part-time as a historian for the Braves.”
“Nice to meet you,” Oliver said. “I’m happy to share some Hank Aaron memories with you.” Oliver ushered them into the elevator. “Hank was one of the all-time great baseball players. He played for the Braves for twenty-one seasons and held the career home run record for thirty-three years, taking it over from Babe Ruth in 1974 right here in Atlanta. He still holds the records for most runs batted in, extra base hits, and total bases even though he retired in 1976!”
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened into a large restaurant area with windows overlooking the field. A huge Hank Aaron bobblehead stood just to their right.
Mike jumped over to the huge Hank. “Hey, Kate, come here and say cheese!” he said.
Mrs. Hopkins took pictures of Mike and Kate standing next to the bobblehead, first a serious one and then a picture of Kate and Mike pretending to swing a home run. When they were done, Oliver pointed to one of the columns in the middle of the floor.
“Hank loved Atlanta so much that he wanted the baseball and his bat from that historic seven hundred and fifteenth home run to stay here with the Braves rather than go to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown,” Oliver said. “So the Braves put them on display right here at the ballpark. They’re worth a huge amount of money.” He gestured to a glass display case mounted in the column.
