Shortstop from Tokyo (5 page)

Russ started off with a single. Then Beak singled, and Stogie, forgetting his troubles for a minute, grinned at his buddy
standing with both feet firmly on first. Beak wanted to catch badly. But he just didn’t have the arm that Tony had.

Stretch lambasted a pitch out to left. It was too high and not deep enough. The Duke outfielder made the catch easily. Jim
Albanese, pulling on his helmet as he strode to the plate, got the long count, three and two, then smashed a liner over short.
The hit went for two bases, scoring both Russ and Beak.

“Thataway, Jim!” shouted the Mohawk bench as every guy stood up and clapped. “Keep it going, Bernie! Another bingle!”

Bernie Drake, batting for Lee, bowed his head sadly as he turned away from the plate, a strikeout victim. Sam Suzuki waited
out the pitches, then laced a belt-high, three-two pitch to deep left center, scoring Jim. He raced around the bases as if
a bear were after him, and the coach held him up at third.

“He runs like a rabbit and hits farther
than any kid his size I’ve ever seen,” said Dennis.

“How come he’s got a new glove?” observed Daren Holden.

Stogie listened intently, wondering if Sam had told anyone else about his ruined glove.

“I don’t know. He just says the old one’s not good anymore and he wanted to get a new one.”

Stogie swallowed and relaxed. Very few guys would keep a secret about a matter like that. You had to admit it — Sam was a
great kid.
I don’t know
, he thought.
In spite of what Sam thinks of me, I can’t help but like him
.

Fuzzy flied out, ending the Mohawks’ second three-run rally.

The Dukes failed to put a man on first in the top of the fifth. Dennis, leading off
for the Mohawks, socked a high-bouncing grounder over Toots Martin’s head for a single. Bob Sobus cut hard at a high pitch,
but the ball skipped down toward third, was picked up by the third baseman and pegged to first. The throw was late. Dennis
took advantage of the peg and raced to third.

Russ knocked a high fly to center field and Dennis, tagging up, bolted for home. “Hit the dirt, Den!” Beak shouted. “Hit it!”

Dennis hit it, but not in time. The relay from the outfield was almost perfect and Dennis was out by a yard. Beak popped up
to first to end the fifth inning.

The Dukes got a man on first in the top of the sixth, but that’s as far as he went. The Mohawks took the game, 7 to 6.

Stogie slid off the bench, thinking hard.
A couple of the guys were helping Coach Dirkus put the catching equipment and batting helmets into the canvas bag. Stogie
walked up beside him.

“Coach,” he said softly, “I’m sorry.”

Coach Dirkus looked at him and grinned. “I figured you’d come around, Stogie. Sorry I didn’t let you play, but I had to show
you that the coach is still boss of his team.”

Stogie nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“See you at the next game, Stogie.”

“Okay.”

He started away when he saw a kid in uniform break away from a group of guys and come toward him. “Stogie,” the kid called.

It was Sam Suzuki.

Stogie didn’t know whether to wait for him or ignore him. He waited. “Yeah?”

“It was my fault you did not play. Right?”

Stogie’s lips felt like cardboard. “Forget it,” he said.

“Not easy to forget it,” Sam replied.

“Well — try.” Stogie started away, not knowing what else he could say.

“Stogie,” Sam called quietly.

Stogie halted and looked directly into Sam’s eyes. “Yeah, what?”

“Better I do not play anymore. Right? Better I quit.”

Raw anger swept through Stogie in a wave. “No! It isn’t better!” he shouted. “That would make everything worse! The guys would
blame me for your quitting, just like you’re blaming me for ruining your glove! And I didn’t! You still think I did, don’t
you?”

Sam lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug. “I — I do not know, Stogie.”

“What can I do to make you believe me?” Stogie cried. Then he turned and ran, catching up with Beak and Jill and his mother
and father, who had already reached the sidewalk.

“What happened?” asked Jill wonderingly. “You didn’t play at all.”

Stogie swallowed and caught his breath. “I popped off to the coach.”

“Popped off?” Jill’s eyes turned big and round. “Why?”

“Because he wanted me to play second base. You saw Sam Suzuki at short, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but —”

“Never mind, Jill,” interrupted Mr. Crane. “Stogie will have to let that reprimanding
cool off. I suspected it was something like that when I saw Sam run out to short and Dennis to second.” He paused. “Beak,
you came through nicely.”

“Thanks, Mr. Crane.”

For a talkative guy Beak Peters was pretty quiet the rest of the way home. Guess even the hit wasn’t enough to outweigh the
despair he shared with his pal Stogie.

B
EAK came over the next afternoon. He handed Stogie a one-dollar bill and some change.

“That’s from Sam Suzuki,” explained Beak. “His share for breaking the Bunningers’ window.”

Stogie frowned. “You told him I paid for it?”

“I had to. He asked me.”

A small volcano began to form in Stogie’s stomach. Quickly he took the money inside and laid it on the dresser in his
room. He took his time going back out to the porch.

“Sam told me he’s going to New York City with his parents today,” said Beak. “His father has some business to do there on
Monday.”

“Will they be back by Tuesday?”

The Mohawks were tangling with the Rainbows on Tuesday, and chances were good that Fats Cornell would hurl for the Rainbows.
He was tough, one of the toughest in the league.

“I don’t know,” replied Beak. “I sure hope so. Without him we …” He broke off and looked sheepishly at Stogie. “He is pretty
good, Stoge. You know that.”

“Of course I know. And I know you were going to say that without him we might lose. Don’t forget, we had a pretty good team
before he came around, too.”

“I know, Stoge. And I know he sure messed things up for you. But the guy’s so
good
, you know it? I don’t only mean as a ball player, but as a guy. He’s a barrel of fun.”

Stogie nodded. “Nobody said he’s not a good guy. But don’t you think he’s pigheaded for still thinking I ruined his glove?
I’ve never heard of anything so crazy!”

Just the same
, he felt like saying,
I can’t help being a little sore at Sam. It’s his fault I’m not playing shortstop. His fault I’m playing second base where
I won’t get the action I got at short
.

Beak didn’t answer. He stretched out his legs and began carving something in the soft dirt with the edge of his sneakers.

“I’ve got a tent,” he said at last, breaking the long silence. “I’ve been thinking
about putting it up tonight in the backyard. Want to help me, and both of us spend the night in it?”

Stogie shrugged. “Sure.” He was glad the subject had changed. He felt an ache in his stomach every time Sam Suzuki’s name
was mentioned.

His mother gave him permission to spend the night with Beak. Beak used a small hatchet to drive in the stakes while Stogie
held up the tent. It was large enough for two sleeping bags and still had plenty of space in between.

They lay in their pajamas in the darkness, a chorus of crickets breaking the night’s velvet silence. Beak said he wished they
had a million dollars so that they could travel to Europe and see the Colosseum, the Eiffel Tower, the Alps and a hundred
other things. Then to Egypt to
see the Sphinx and the pyramids, and to China to see the Great Wall. Man, it would be the coolest cool.

They kept talking and wishing, and suddenly a sound — a different sound from the chirping of the crickets — cut into the quiet
night.

“What was that?” asked Stogie, quickly straining his ears.

“I don’t know!” Beak whispered.

The sound continued. It was a grating noise and seemed to originate just outside of their tent.

“I’ll take a look,” whispered Stogie. He shoved aside the quilt blanket, pivoted off the bed, and peeked through the front
of the tent. Nothing.

He held still for a moment. The noise had stopped. He started back for the cot when it started up again. He realized now
that it was coming from the side. This time he went all the way out of the tent and around the corner. And stopped dead.

An animal about two feet long and shaped like an oversized football, except for a tail on one end and a snout on the other,
seemed to swell up for a second. Stogie recognized it instantly. A porcupine!

“Beak!” he cried softly. “C’m here! Quick!”

Just then something bumped against him and he jumped. “I
am
here!” murmured Beak. “Hey, it … it’s a porcupine!”

Even before Beak had the words out of his mouth, the animal was scurrying toward the woods beyond the yard.

“He was gnawing on something,” observed Stogie. In the semidarkness he saw the hatchet where Beak had left it after driving in the stakes. He picked it up, and instantly he knew.

“He was gnawing on this. The handle’s all wet and rough.”

Then he was staring after the porcupine which he could no longer see, and another thought struck him — struck him like the
blow of a bat striking a ball.

“Beak! I’ve got it! That’s what happened to Sam Suzuki’s glove! It was the porcupine that chewed it up!”

“Stogie, you’re right! It had to be!”

Stogie did an Indian war dance on the spot. “Boy, Beak, do I feel good! I won’t be able to sleep a wink the rest of the night!”

He did though.

O
N TUESDAY Stogie was itching to tell Sam about the porcupine so he could clear up the whole mess about the glove. But when
he and Beak arrived at the Suzukis’ house, no one was home.

“Guess I’ll have to wait till tonight,” he said. “I’ll see him at the game. I hope he’ll be there.”

They were at the ball park at 5:15 when most of the guys came drifting in. They played catch, then had batting practice, hitting
three and laying one down. Sam Suzuki still hadn’t shown up.

In a way
, thought Stogie,
I don’t care if Sam never shows up. Then I can go back to my old position at short
. But Stogie knew he didn’t really mean it. He had to tell Sam what he had discovered about the glove.

Maybe — a thought brought a gleam into his eyes — maybe the coach would let him play short while Sam was gone!

“Anybody know where Sam Suzuki is?” inquired Coach Dirkus.

“In New York City with his parents,” answered Beak.

“When are they coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

The coach picked up a bat and a ball. “Okay, let’s have infield,” he announced. “Dennis, take short, Stogie, second.”

Stogie’s hope collapsed like a punctured tire. He had thought sure … Lips
pressed tightly together, he picked up his mitt and ran out to second. He wasn’t going to argue with the coach again. No fun
warming the bench.

The coach rapped out grounders for ten minutes, then the Rainbows took over the field. At 6:30, game time, Sam Suzuki still
hadn’t appeared.

The Rainbows had first raps. Tom Rolf, pitching for the Mohawks, walked the lead-off man. The second man blasted a hot grounder
directly at Stogie. Stogie stooped to snare it — it looked like a soft catch — but the ball zipped past his glove, through
his legs, and to the outfield!

“Get your tail down, Stogie!” yelled a fan.

Playing second base wasn’t as easy as he had thought!

Stogie rushed back, caught the throw-in
from right fielder Bernie Drake, and held it. The man on first had advanced to third, and the hitter was standing comfortably
on first.

“Sorry, Tom,” said Stogie, tossing the ball to the pitcher. Tom’s tightened lips showed that he wasn’t at all happy with that
play.

Tom winged in two outside pitches on the next hitter, then struck him out. A Texas leaguer over short scored a run. Jim Albanese
pulled in a fly for the second out, and Bob Sobus caught a pop fly for the third.

“Wish Sam would show up,” said Fuzzy in the dugout, tapping his bat against the tips of his sneakers. “He’s smaller than most
of us, but he’s good.”

Daren Holden grinned at Stogie. “You don’t think so, though, do you, Stoge?”

Stogie shrugged. “Who says I don’t? Sure, he’s good.”

“But you don’t like him. You don’t like his taking over your favorite position.”

Stogie’s control shattered like glass. “You’d better close your trap and keep it closed, Holden!”

Daren chuckled and Stogie, his face still burning, turned his attention to Jim Albanese standing at the plate. He wished more
than ever that Sam would return.
I hope that when I tell him what I saw he’ll forget about the ruined glove and be my friend
, Stogie thought.
I really want him to be
my
friend
.

Fats Cornell couldn’t get one over and Jim Albanese got a free ticket to first. Lee Cragg, up next, laid down a nice bunt
between third base and the pitcher, advancing Jim. Fats threw Lee out at first.