Hard Drive to Short (3 page)

A game was in progress on one of the ball diamonds.

“Hey,” said Rod, suddenly smiling, “the girls are playing softball! I know some of them. Let’s watch them for a while.”

Watch girls play softball? Was Rod kidding? For a minute Sandy thought that Rod really was. But Rod was already walking toward
them, a broad, happy smile on his face.

“Can I finish polishing the bike while you’re watching the game?” asked Sandy. That would be more fun than watching girls
play softball.

“Oh, sure. Go ahead.”

“Thanks, Rod!”

Sandy got the chamois cloth out of the pouch and went to work on the bike. He could not see where it really needed polishing,
but he rubbed and rubbed all over the bright metal surface anyway. Now and then he looked up, hoping that Rod would return
so they could be on their way.

But Rod seemed to have made himself comfortable on the grass next to one of the girls’ teams’ benches. Sandy put the cloth
away, sat and waited. Rod didn’t leave until the game was over. By that time Sandy was really tired of hanging around.

He said nothing, though. He guessed that when guys got older they hung around with girls some. Sandy didn’t care. He felt
good just being with Rod. Not only good, but big, too.

T
HE next time Sandy saw Rodney was early Tuesday afternoon. Rodney took him riding on the motorbike again and stopped at a
miniature golf course at the edge of town.

“How about playing a game?” Rod asked.

“Okay. But you’ll beat me. I’m not good at miniature golf.”

“So what?” They got off the bike, and Rod pulled it back on its stand. Then he reached into his pocket. Suddenly a look
Sandy had seen on Rod’s face before was there again.

“Well,” said Rod, “guess we can’t play. Stupid me. I forgot my wallet again.”

Once more Sandy brought out his wallet.

“Forget it,” said Rod. “We can play some other time.”

“I’ve got money for both of us,” insisted Sandy. “I’ll pay.”

Rod grinned. “Boy, it seems that you’re always loaded. How do you make your money, kid?”

Sandy shrugged. “I get an allowance every week for doing chores around the house.” Sandy didn’t mention that one of his chores
was babysitting his sisters.

“Oh, no wonder!” Rod’s grin widened. “In that case, I’ll let you pay! But you’ll have to let me pay sometime. Okay?”

“Okay.” The way Rod looked at him, the way he said that — Sandy didn’t know whether Rod was kidding him, or what.

They played golf and Rod won by four points.

An hour before the Batwings-Spacemen game on Thursday, Sandy, dressed in his baseball uniform and carrying his glove on his
wrist, walked across the street to see if Rod was out in the driveway. He wasn’t. Neither was the motorbike, though it could
be in the garage.

Sandy had hoped he’d see Rod. Maybe, just maybe, Rod might have offered to give him a ride to the game.

Disappointed, Sandy walked the four blocks to the ball field.

“You’re not going to be running home halfway through the game today, are
you?” Marty Loomis said as they played catch with each other.

“I’ve got to be home by a quarter of seven,” replied Sandy.

“Why?”

“I have something to do, that’s why. Now quit asking questions, will you?”

You couldn’t tell every guy on the team you had to watch over your little sisters. They’d rag on you forever.

The Batwings were up first. Sandy started at short. Duke Miller was on the mound.

“All right! Some noise out there!” yelled Coach Malone from the bench. “What are you — statues?”

The men started chattering like a cageful of monkeys. The Batwings’ leadoff man stepped to the plate. Duke, a lefthander,
stepped to the mound. Catcher
Marty Loomis gave him a sign. Duke wound up and delivered. The batter swung at the first pitch.
Crack!
A sizzling grounder to short.

For an instant Sandy felt his nerves jangle. He had thought he was ready for a ball hit toward him, but now that it was coming
at him he felt caught off guard. The batter’s hitting that first pitch was a surprise.

“Take it, Sandy!” shouted Kerry Dean from third.

Sandy bent over to field the ball. It was coming hard and fast, faster than he realized. He lowered his glove, felt the ball
smack solidly into the pocket, then rose and pegged it to first.

Out!

“Nice play, Sandy!” Nibbs Spry yelled from the other side of the keystone sack.

The ball zipped around the horn. Sandy caught the throw from Kerry, tossed it to Nibbs, then stood in his position at short,
swinging his arms loosely back and forth in front of him. Man! he thought, was he lucky. He had expected to miss that grounder
for sure.

The Batwings’ second batter came to the plate. Duke threw three pitches before the batter took his first cut. He missed, then
cracked a line drive over the third-base sack that went for two bases.

The next hitter, a lefty, banged an inside pitch to right field, scoring the man from second. Stubby Tobin’s throw-in held
the hitter on first.

The Batwings’ clean-up hitter fouled off two pitches, then socked a high-bouncing ground ball to Sandy. Sandy
fielded it and snapped it to Nibbs. Nibbs stepped on second, then pegged the ball to first. A double play!

Sandy smiled. He felt better.

First at bat for the Spacemen was Kerry Dean, who waited out the pitcher, taking two balls and two strikes before his first
cut. It was a strikeout.

Jules Anderson let a strike go by him, then laced the next pitch just inside the first-base bag for a double. He stood on
the sack, clapping his hands and yelling for Sandy to knock him in. Sandy stepped to the plate. The guys on the bench and
the fans began yelling, too.

“Bring ’im in, Sandy! Bring ’im in!”

His face was hot. His palms sweated. He wiped them on his pants, then gripped his bat close to the knob and waited for Ed
Thomas, the Batwings’ pitcher, to put one in there.

In it came, chest-high. Sandy swung. Missed! “Strike!” said the ump.

Another. “Strike two!”

Sandy stepped out of the box, dried his hands on his pants, then stepped in again.

B
ALL!”

The first nervous sensations were gone. Sandy felt more sure of himself. Ed had speed, but his curve was just a wrinkle.

The pitch came in. It was knee-high and curving. Sandy cut at it.
Crack!
The ball struck the ground in front of Ed, then bounced over his head and to the outfield. Frank Mintz, coaching at third,
windmilled Jules on to home. The throw-in from the outfield held Sandy on first.

Well, he had done it. He had evened the score.

Oink Decker blasted a hot grounder to shortstop, and Sandy ran as hard as he could to second, not thinking he’d ever make
it. The shortstop fumbled the ball! By the time he retrieved it the men were safe on their bases.

Marty Loomis connected solidly with the first pitch, but it was a high fly to right field and easily caught. Two away.

Stubby Tobin was up next. He waited out the pitcher till there was a three-two count on him, then smashed a line drive over
short. The ball hit the grass behind the bare ground and rolled out between the left and center fielders. Sandy scored from
second. A quick retrieve and throw-in from the center fielder held Oink up at third.

Nibbs Spry, looking anxious and dangerous at the plate, did no more than foul two pitches to the backstop screen. He struck
out, ending the first inning.

Sandy felt good as he ran out to short and picked up his glove. Two to one. If only the Spacemen could pick up a few more
runs before he had to leave.

He was prepared this time for a first-pitch hit. But the leadoff man let it pass. “Strike one!” called the umpire.

Duke laid the next pitch in there, too. The batter swung. The blow was solid, driving the ball like a meteor to deep right
field. It hit behind Stubby. Before Stubby picked it up and pegged it in, the runner was on third base.

The next batter hit a high-bouncing grounder to second base. The runner on third took off the instant the ball was hit.

Nibbs fielded it and whipped it home. The peg was a mile high over Marty’s head, and every Spacemen fan in the stands groaned.
So did Nibbs. The runner scored, and the hitter ran to second.

A scratch single advanced the man to third. Duke was on his way to walking the next hitter. He threw three balls without a
strike. Then he shot two straight over the heart of the plate.

“Atta boy, Duke!” yelled Sandy. “Throw the next one in there, too!”

“Belt it out of the county, Nick!” a Batwing fan shouted.

Duke pitched.
Crack!
A high, towering fly over the infield!

“I’ll take it! I’ll take it!” called Sandy.

The ball became a fuzzy white sphere against the velvet blue sky, and Sandy was afraid he might misjudge it. Then it
came down.
Step back! Step back! It’s coming down behind you!
He raised his glove.
Plop!
He had it.

Duke smiled as Sandy tossed him the ball. “It was an infield out, anyway,” said Duke.

Sandy shrugged. “Yeah, but catching is good practice.”

A blazing grounder through the pitcher’s mound scored the Batwings’ next run and again left men on first and third. The infielders
talked it up loud and steadily, hoping to give Duke the encouragement he needed to pitch well to the next batter.

He threw a strike. The next ball was hit to short right field. Stubby Tobin ran in as hard as his short legs would carry him.
He dove at the ball and missed it, landing on his stomach. He clambered to his feet, chased after the ball, snapped it up and pegged it in, holding the runner on third.

But another run had scored, making it three so far this inning. And there were men on second and third.

Why in heck had Stubby run in after that ball, anyway? thought Sandy angrily. He ought to know he wasn’t
that
fast.

Duke pitched to the following batter, getting two balls and a strike on him. Then a hot eight-foot-high drive to Sandy! The
ball was curving downward slightly as it headed for him. He leaped, then snagged it. He saw the runner on third returning
to tag up. Sandy snapped the ball to Kerry. Out! A double play!

Coach Malone smacked the shortstop on the seat of the pants as he came in to
sit down. “Nice catch and quick thinking, buddy.”

“Thanks,” replied Sandy, taking a deep breath.

He hoped his teammates would rally and get back those three runs. The Bat-wings led, 4 to 2. But his hopes vanished as Duke
hit into a double play with Ken Bockman on first. Kerry singled. Jules flied out.

Sandy checked the time with Phil Peters, who was holding his wristwatch. Phil was the Spacemen’s mascot and Punk Peters’s
kid brother. It was ten after six. He had half an hour to play before he had to leave.

The top of the third. Duke looked hot as he mowed down the first batter with three called strikes. The second batter
lined a sizzling grounder to Nibbs. Nibbs fumbled it, picked it up quickly and pegged to first. A close play.