No Arm in Left Field, page 5
The Yellow Jacket beat the throw by two steps. Terry was certain that anyone else could have thrown the man out easily. He turned unhappily and went back to his spot, waiting to hear a disparaging remark from Tony. Surprisingly, it didn’t come.
A pop fly, a strikeout, and a fly to Terry ended the bad half inning.
Tony singled to start off the bottom half of the third, and Terry got the signal to bunt. He waited for the pitch, stuck out his bat and crack! A pop-up to the pitcher!
Tony had started to second and was sprinting back to tag up when the pitcher whipped the ball to first.
“Out!” cried the ump.
Terry stood in the batter’s box, staring at Tony as he came trotting in to the dugout. Their eyes locked.
“You call that a bunt?” Tony snorted.
“I didn’t say it was,” Terry replied calmly.
Terry followed Tony to the dugout.
“You shouldn’t have run, Tony,” Coach Harper said firmly. “On a bunt you wait until the ball is on the ground. You should know that.”
“Sorry,” Tony muttered as he squeezed in between Caesar and Woody. Mick pushed aside to make room for Terry.
“It was my fault, too,” Terry said as he sat down. “A horse could’ve bunted better than that.”
Rick doubled to left center. Bud’s fly to right ended the inning.
Nothing significant happened in the fourth. The infield seemed as quiet as a cemetery and Terry tried to put some spark into it. “Come on, guys! Talk it up! Chatter!”
They came to life. They chattered. Their voices joined together, became one. Ed smiled at Terry. “That-a-boy, Terry,” he said. “That’s what we needed.”
Woody walked the first man in the fifth inning, then worked up to a 3–2 count on the next batter. He stepped off the mound, took off his cap, wiped his face with the sleeve of his jersey, then stepped in again.
Crack! A high fly to short left field! Terry sprinted after it. “I’ll take it!” he yelled.
“I’ve got it!” another voice yelled in front of him.
He glanced down for an instant and saw Tony running back toward him. What shall I do? he thought. I can’t risk another collision!
Then he heard Ed yell, “It’s Tony’s ball! Tony’s ball!”
“Take it, Tony!” Terry shouted.
He slowed down and watched Tony catch the ball with little effort.
“Nice catch, Tony,” he said, smiling.
A grin flashed over Tony’s face. “Thanks, Terry,” he said.
Terry trotted back to his position, feeling pretty good that this time the play had worked perfectly. Even Tony had cracked a grin, as if to say, We did it right this time, didn’t we?
A hot grounder to Jeff resulted in a double play. Three outs.
“Come on, men,” Coach Harper snapped. “This is the fifth inning and we’re two runs behind. What d’you say?”
Jeff walked. Tony tried twice to bunt him down to second and fouled both times. He then hit a scratch single to short. Jeff ran to second in time to beat the throw. Two on, no outs, and Terry was up.
He glanced at the coach, saw him brush his left hand across his chest.
The bunt signal was on.
12
NERVOUSLY, Terry stepped into the box and waited for the pitch. In it came, knee high. He moved into bunting stance and stuck out his bat.
A neat bunt down the third-base line! The Yellow Jacket third baseman rushed in to field it, scooped it up and whipped it to first. Out! But both Jeff and Tony had advanced a base and were now in good scoring position.
“Nice bunt, Terry,” Coach Harper smiled as Terry came trotting in to the dugout.
“Thanks,” said Terry.
Rich took a 1–1 count, then singled through short. Both Jeff and Tony scored. 3–3! The Forest Lakers’ bench and fans went wild.
Jeff and Tony ran in to the bench, Jeff sitting down beside Terry. He moved over to give Tony room, and Tony sat down. Both boys were breathing hard from their run.
“Nice bunt, man!” Tony laughed, socking Terry playfully on the knee.
“Thanks,” said Terry.
“We’ve got to keep this up,” Tony said, turning his attention to the ball game. “We’ve got to pull ahead of those guys.”
“If we pull together we will,” Terry said. “But we’ve got to pull together.”
Tony looked at him. Their eyes locked in heavy silence. Then Tony nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s the only way.”
The rally continued. Bud singled, advancing Rich to third, and Ed stepped to the plate.
“Drive it, Ed!” Terry shouted above the din rising from the fans.
Crack! The ball sailed over short for a single and Rich scored. 4–3! The Forest Lakers’ bench emptied. The guys jumped, danced, and cheered, their cries mixing with the triumphant yell exploding from the fans.
“Keep it going, Stu!” Terry yelled. “Get a hit!”
Stu didn’t, though. He flied out to left for the second out, and Caesar popped out to short for the third.
“Let’s hold ’em!” Tony cried as the team ran out to the field in the top of the sixth.
The Yellow Jackets’ lead-off man laced a pitch between first and second for a double, then scored on a single to center field that drew a terrific applause from the Yellow Jacket rooters. 4–4!
Terry saw Tony grab up a handful of dust and toss it angrily aside.
“Stick in there, Tony!” Terry yelled. “Let’s not give up, man!”
Tony looked at him and smiled as he lifted his hand with the V for victory sign. “We’ll pull together! Okay?”
“Okay!” cried Terry, and thought, Was the atmosphere really thawing between him and Tony? It was hard to tell just yet.
The next Yellow Jacket popped a fly to short. One away.
Woody caught Tony’s soft throw, rubbed the ball a minute, then stepped back on the mound. He checked the runner on second, stretched and threw. A solid blow to Rich in center field! He caught the fly and rifled it to third. But the runner, after tagging up at second, slid safely under Ed’s outstretched glove.
“Two away!” Tony shouted, waving two fingers at the outfielders. “One more to get!”
The next hitter came to the plate and Terry took a dozen steps in toward the infield. He remembered that the hitter didn’t have much power. The guy had knocked two singles, and both were shallow drives over short.
Woody mopped his brow with a handkerchief, stepped on the mound, got his signal from Stu, and pitched. Crack! Another solid blow over short!
Even as Terry ran in to field the ball he saw the runner on third already sprinting for home. He wanted to shout “Tony, come here!,” but realized that he didn’t have to. Tony was on his way toward him.
Terry pegged him the ball, and in one swift motion Tony whipped it home. Stu caught the ball near the plate and put it on the runner as he slid in under a cloud of dust.
“Out!” shouted the ump.
Three outs! The Forest Lakers’ fans thundered their unanimous approval.
Tony waited for Terry to reach him, and both ran off the field together. “Nice play, Terry!” Tony exclaimed. “You played your position perfectly!”
Terry grinned. “He hadn’t hit too far before,” he said. “I figured he wouldn’t hit too far this time either.”
“Hey, what a memory!” cried Tony.
“With my kind of arm I need it!” Terry chuckled happily.
“Yeah. I guess I’ll just have to run out to left field everytime a ball is hit to you,” Tony said, laughing.
The crowd gave Woody a big hand as he stepped to the plate. A moment later they let out a sad “Ah! Too bad, Woody!” as he popped out to short.
Jeff didn’t do any better, grounding out to third for the second out.
“Come on, Tony!” Terry cried as Tony stepped to the plate. “Get on!”
Electric silence charged the air as Tony waited for the first pitch to come in. It blazed in chest high and he swung. Crack! The ball streaked past the pitcher to the outfield for a single and once again the Forest Lakers’ bench clambered out and cheered with gusto.
“Get a hit, Terry!” Tony yelled from first base. “Get a hit!”
Terry felt the sweat on his hands as he gripped the bat and waited for the pitch. It came in, but it was high. No! a voice inside him warned. Don’t swing! He let it go by.
“Ball!” cried the ump.
The next pitch was lower. It grooved the heart of the plate and Terry swung. The blow was solid and sounded like music to Terry’s ears. He saw the ball sail like a rocket out to deep right center field. Even as he dropped his bat and bolted to first he heard the victorious cheer erupting from the Forest Lakers’ fans. He crossed first, second, and was held up by the coach at third.
Then he saw the fans spilling out of the stands, and the guys running toward him, led by Tony himself.
“Nice smash, Terry!” Tony cried, pumping his hand. “You won the ball game, man!”
Terry blinked happily. “Like we said…”
“I know,” Tony interrupted. “We have to pull together. And we did, didn’t we?”
Terry nodded.
After the shouting and handshaking were over, Terry and some of the other guys picked up the bases and equipment and put them into the canvas bags for the coach, then headed for home.
“Terry, I — I don’t know how to say this,” Tony said uneasily, “except that I’m sorry.”
“Why? Because I hit that triple?” Terry laughed.
“No. You know what I mean.”
Their eyes met for a moment, and Terry nodded silently.
“I’m having a birthday party at my house next Saturday,” Tony said. “I’m inviting the whole team. I hope you can make it.”
Terry felt a lump lodge in his throat. He had been hoping that Tony would invite him. He grinned and poked his new friend on the shoulder.
“Try and stop me,” he said, and turned to see Mick smiling happily at them.
No Arm in Left Field
Being the new kid in town in never much fun. And as Terry Delany figures it, being one of the few black kids in town will only make life more difficult. But Terry is pleasantly surprised when he finds a friend in Mick Jorcan and tries out successfully for the local baseball team. It looks as though things won’t be so bad… until he meets Tony Casterline, the team’s shortstop, who constantly points out the fact that Terry’s weak throwing arm ruins the team’s efforts. The story of how Terry and Tony discover the meaning of teamwork will absorb young sports fans.
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