Challenge at Second Base
Read Challenge at Second Base Online
Authors: Matt Christopher
Text copyright © 1962, 1991, 1992
by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.
Illustrations copyright © 1992 by Marcy Ramsey
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written
permission of the publisher.
Little, Brown and Company
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First eBook Edition: December 2009
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and
not intended by the author.
Matt Christopher® is a registered trademark
of Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.
ISBN: 978-0-316-09549-5
Contents
The #1 Sports Series for Kids: MATT CHRISTOPHER
®
To Fred and Gloria
1T
he white runabout hopped and skipped over the rough water like a rabbit chased by a fox. Not far away a bird glided down,
touched the water with its bill, and swooped away.
Stan, sitting on the rear seat behind his brother Phil, felt the bumps. Suddenly his eyes opened wide and he straightened
as if somebody had prodded him in the back.
Wasn’t this Monday? The day the baseball suits were given out?
Stan’s heart flipped. Yes, it was!
“Look at me!” he cried out loud. “Playing around in the middle of Lake Mohawk! Phil!”
he yelled into the wind to the boat’s pilot. “Phil, what time is it?”
Phil looked at his wrist watch. “Five minutes of five!” he answered over his shoulder.
“Holy catfish!” shouted Stan. “They were passing out the suits at four-thirty! I have to get home and get out of my trunks,
Phil!”
“You won’t right away!” replied Phil. “Look ahead of us and to our left! Somebody’s in trouble!”
“But, Phil!” Stan protested. “I’ve got to— ”
“Not till we help out that guy first!” said Phil sternly.
Stan squinted past the sharp bow of the boat, to the left of Phil’s head. He saw something white in the water, but could not
make out what it was. He stood up, angry at himself for having let the time go by unnoticed.
“It’s a sailboat!” he yelled. “Somebody’s waving at us!”
The sailboat was lying on its side, its white
sail flapping in the water. A person was clinging to it, waving frantically.
Phil gunned the motor and turned the wheel. A short scream burst from Stan as he lost his balance and started to fall. For
a brief moment he was looking straight down at the deep green water. His face was hardly more than two feet away from it.
Then his hands gripped the edge of the boat and he held on tightly.
Seconds later he was sitting down, his heart pounding.
Quickly, Phil approached the tipped sailboat. He cut the motor and the boat lost speed.
Stan was able to read the name on the boat, even though it was upside down.
Mary Lou.
“It’s Jeb Newman’s boat!” Stan cried. “That’s Jeb!”
“Hi, guys!” greeted the boy in the water. He was grinning as if a tipped sailboat were
a common occurrence with him. “Thanks for the rescue!”
“We’ll help you put her back up!” said Phil.
Jeb was wearing swim trunks. Stan expected to see Gary with him. Gary was Jeb’s younger brother, a strong prospect for second
base on the Falcons’ team. That was all right, except that Stan wanted to play second base, too.
Phil let the motor idle as he drifted close to the sailboat. Stan dived in, and he and Jeb swam to the other side of the boat.
While Phil lifted the mast, Stan and Jeb pushed against the side of the boat until it was back up in position.
Jeb climbed into it, the water inside the boat up to his shins. Then Phil helped pull Stan back into the motorboat.
“A gust of wind caught me off my guard while I was turning,” explained Jeb. “Guess
I’m still an amateur.” He unhooked a pail and began bailing out the water.
“How come you’re not at the ball park?” he asked Stan. “You’re playing with the Falcons, aren’t you?”
“I forgot about it,” said Stan, and looked anxiously at his brother. “Maybe we can still make it, Phil.”
“See you around, Jeb!” yelled Phil, and once more gunned the motor.
The sudden burst of noise frightened a flock of birds flying low near them. Stan was afraid he had little chance beating out
Gary at second base. After all, why shouldn’t Gary be good? Jeb was working him out a lot — going to the field with him when
nobody else was there and hitting grounders to him for hours.
If Phil would help Stan like that, Stan would be good, too. Phil, though, acted as if he didn’t care whether Stan played or
not.
Stan shook his head. He just couldn’t figure
out Phil anymore. Last year Phil had played professional baseball with Harport. This year he didn’t play at all, except pitch
and catch with Stan. And Stan practically would have to twist his arm to get him to do that.
“I’m afraid we’ll be late, Stan,” said Phil.
“I’m afraid, too,” replied Stan sadly.
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hil drove Stan directly to the baseball field. The place was as empty as an open sea.
“Guess I don’t get a suit.” Stan’s voice caught a little.
“Don’t lose all your hopes,” replied Phil. “The coach is probably holding one for you.”
“I doubt it,” said Stan. “Coach Bartlett is real strict about these things. He said that if a boy didn’t have a good reason
for not showing up at practice, he wasn’t interested in playing. He was keeping out somebody else who was.”
“But you have a good reason for not being
here this afternoon,” said Phil. “It was my fault.”
Stan didn’t answer.
On the way home in the car, Stan got to thinking about Phil. From the brief conversation he had between Mom and Dad, he knew
that Phil hadn’t done too well with Harport. Even so, he could have signed a contract with them this year, but he had refused.
Stan didn’t know exactly why Phil had refused. If Stan were in that position he certainly would not have!
“Why didn’t you play with Harport this year, Phil?” Stan asked. “Did you want more money?”
“What?” Phil seemed to be daydreaming. “Oh! No. No, it wasn’t money,” he said finally.
“Then what was it?”
Phil looked at Stan. He seemed a little embarrassed. “You won’t mind if I don’t want to talk about it, will you, little buddy?”
Stan shrugged. “No. If you don’t want to.”
He couldn’t understand it at all. What other reason was it if it wasn’t money?
Well, Stan had his own worries now. Without a suit he couldn’t play for the Falcons in the league. What was he going to do
now? Most of his pals would make the team. He was sure of that.
I’ll have more time with my space projects, he told himself. I don’t have to play baseball. But he was just thinking up excuses,
for he loved baseball more than anything.
Saturday afternoon, Larry Jones and Tommy Hart came to the house, dressed in brand-new baseball uniforms. They were carrying
their spikes and gloves. Larry’s was a catcher’s mitt.
“Where were you yesterday afternoon?” Larry asked. He was almost as wide as he was tall. His hair was copper-colored, and
he had freckles sprinkled around his nose. “Didn’t you know Coach Bartlett was passing out the suits?”
“I got there too late,” said Stan.
“You should’ve been there,” said Tommy. “You would’ve gotten a suit.” He was the team’s pitcher, a tall, slender boy who could
hit as well as he could throw.
“Was Gary there?” Stan asked quickly.
“Of course,” replied Tommy. “You don’t think he’d miss it, do you?”
“We’re going down to the field, now,” said Larry. “Jeb Newman is going to pick us up here.”
“Here?” Stan frowned. “Why here?”
Larry shrugged his large shoulders. “Because we told him to. You’re coming along, aren’t you?”
“I don’t have a suit,” said Stan. “If Coach Bartlett had wanted to give me one, he would have brought it over by now — I guess.”
“Our first league game is Monday, “ Tommy said. “Against the Jaguars.”
Why are they telling me this? thought Stan. I don’t want to hear it!
Just then Jeb Newman drove his car up to the curb. Beside him sat his brother Gary in baseball cap and uniform.
Larry and Tommy trotted to the car and got in.
“Aren’t you coming?” Gary called.
Stan shook his head, turned, and went back into the house.
Outside, the car roared away from the curb.
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