The Home Run Kid Races On (7 page)

“Slide!” the third base coach yelled. “
Slide!
”

Jim hit the dirt. The throw came in low and hard. A flurry of dust blocked Syl’s view.
Is Jim safe or out?

The umpire fanned his arms to either side. “Safe!”

Syl and the rest of the Comets let out a whoop. Coach Corbin applauded madly, grinning ear to ear. Syl grinned, too, in part
because he was proud of Jim—but also because the third baseman, the Orioles’ slugger, had lost out that time.

Kirk came to the plate with runners at first and third and no outs. When the pitch came, he swung from his heels, clearly
hoping to homer and put his team ahead. Instead, he hit a blooper. The shortstop faded back and caught it easily.

“Okay, Syl,” Coach Corbin said in a low voice. “We could use some power now.”

Sylvester nodded and walked toward the batter’s box. As he did, he saw a movement behind the bench.

It was Mr. Teacy. He was holding his bat, but not in a normal batting grip. His hands were spread wide, with the fingers of
his right pinching the fat part of the bat.

Drag bunt,
he mouthed to Syl.

Syl hesitated. He glanced back at Coach Corbin for confirmation that he was to hit away. The coach was busy talking with the
next batter.

Syl looked into the outfield and saw that the players there had backed up, just as he had done for the Oriole slugger. He
shot Mr. Teacy a brief nod and stepped into the box.

The pitcher leaned in and took the signal. He began his windup.

Wait for it,
Syl thought, his heart racing.
And… now!

The pitcher reared back. With a swift motion, Syl squared off, slipped his hands apart, and aimed the end of the bat’s barrel
toward first.

“Oh no!” he heard the catcher cry. Then the bat drilled the ball to the ground between home and third, and all Syl heard after
that was the sound of his own breath as he hightailed it for first.

He made it!

“Nice bunt, Syl!” Rod, the first base coach, said with excitement. “You totally fooled the infield, especially their third
baseman! He practically fell over his feet trying to get to the ball in time!”

“That so?” Syl said, laughing. “Wish I’d seen it!”

“It’s just too bad Jim didn’t know it was coming,” Rod said, “or he might have made it home. Instead, he looked kind of confused.
I think he was hoping you’d clobber the ball. Oh, well. He didn’t have to run, did he? And now the bases are loaded, so we’re
in good shape!”

S
yl was sorry to have confused Jim but saw with satisfaction that his bunt had rattled the Orioles’ pitcher even more. A quick
conversation with his catcher and his coach calmed him down. He caught A.C. looking on two pitches and then got him to swing
on the third for the Comets’ second out. That brought up Duane.

“Come on, Duane, you can do it!” Syl yelled. “Don’t let us die out here!”

Duane very nearly
did
leave them stranded. He fouled off three pitches to right field before clocking the fourth one fair. The ball flew over the
first baseman’s outstretched glove and bounced along the fence. The right fielder scrambled to pick it up. When he did get
it in his hand, however, he seemed uncertain where to throw it.

Finally, with his teammates screaming at him, he hurled it as hard as he could toward the catcher. But his throw was so wild
that both Jim and Eddie scored easily. Syl was safe at third and Duane was standing up at first!

Tie ball game, and Syl was in place for the go-ahead run!

Unfortunately, the next batter was Bongo. Bongo was a terrific pitcher, but he was lousy at the plate. He took three cuts
and missed each one to end the Comets’ turn at bat.

Syl hurried to get his glove and then hustled to center field. He and the other outfielders threw the ball around a few times.
Then the umpire yelled, “Play ball!” and the second inning began.

Nothing much happened that inning, or the two after that, however. Syl and his teammates returned to the field for the fifth
inning with the score still 2–2. It didn’t stay that way for long, because Bongo suddenly seemed tired. He gave up three hits
in a row to load the bases!

When the fourth batter strode to the plate, the Orioles’ fans cheered and the Comets’ fans groaned. It was the home run slugger.

Coach Corbin jogged to the mound to give Bongo a quick pep talk. Syl, meanwhile, gave himself one as he backed up. “Go ahead,
hit it to me,” he growled. “Your streak ends now!”

The Oriole did hit it to center field—deep,
deep
center field! Syl faded back until he collided with the fence. But he didn’t give up. As the ball fell to earth, he jumped,
stretching his right arm as high as he could.

He might have caught the ball, too, except just as it neared his glove, he felt a sharp sting on his bare skin. Pain shot
down his arm, making him involuntarily jerk it down.

Plop!

Instead of nestling in his webbing, the ball dropped over the fence for a grand slam.

“No!” Syl cried, hurling his glove to the ground. He looked at his arm and saw a small, red welt—and a yellow-and-black insect
buzzing away. “
A bee sting?
Are you
kidding
me?” He turned in circles, searching for… what? A bee’s nest? Or someone to blame the sting on?

Of course, he found neither.
Just rotten luck,
he finally told himself. But he didn’t believe it, not even for a minute. Two surefire catches muffed by strange coincidences?
Not likely!

With that hit, Coach Corbin decided that it was time to replace Bongo with their other pitcher, Burk Riley. Bongo slumped
off the field and sat on the bench, head down, while Burk, with his fresh arm, quickly retired the side.

“Okay, Comets,” Coach Corbin called, clapping his hands, “let’s get it back!”

Eddie Exton was the first at bat. He looked two balls into the catcher’s glove and then took a ball to his shoulder on a wild
pitch. He tossed his bat aside and jogged down to first base. That brought up Kirk. Last time up, Kirk had flied out to the
shortstop. This time, he flied out to deep right field! Fortunately, Eddie was a fast runner, and he made it to second after
tagging up.

Now Syl stepped into the batter’s box. He wondered if the fielders would back up, as they had last time. They didn’t, but
he saw a few of them shift their feet, as if unsure what to expect.

Syl decided to hit away rather than try another bunt. So when the Oriole pitcher gave him one he liked, he swung.
Pow!
The ball blasted between the third baseman and the shortstop and bounded into left field. Syl made it safely to first and
turned in time to see Eddie, unbelievably, beat the throw to third!

“Woo-hoo!” Syl cheered. “Way to dig it out, Eddie!”

“Now it’s your turn to dig it out,” came a familiar voice. Syl sneaked a look over his shoulder and saw Mr. Teacy standing
behind Rod, the first base coach. “Take a big lead and get ready to steal.”

Syl swallowed hard. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure of what?” Rod asked.

“Nothing,” Syl said, shifting off the bag to stand several paces into the base path.

“Remember —” Mr. Teacy began.

“— to watch the pitcher’s feet,” Syl finished in a whisper.

The Oriole pitcher stretched his arms over his head and brought them down in front, turning to look at Syl as he did.

Syl bounced on his toes, never taking his eyes off the pitcher’s feet. So he saw the moment the Oriole lifted his foot—his
front foot!

Syl took off like he’d been fired from a cannon. He heard the Orioles’ infielders shouting, saw the second baseman rush to
the bag and stand at the ready. He dropped into his slide then, thrusting his right leg out and bending his left leg beneath
him. His toe touched the bag and he hopped up, breathing hard, to find the second baseman holding the ball.

Both Syl and the Oriole infielder turned to the umpire.

“Safe!” the man yelled.

“Yes!” Syl pumped his fist in a quick celebration and then looked for Mr. Teacy. If he’d expected the ballplayer to congratulate
him, he was disappointed. One curt nod was all he got.

Syl pressed his lips together.
I’ll get that guy to clap for me if it’s the last thing I do this game!
he thought with determination.

S
ylvester was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn’t realize A.C. had boosted the ball above the first baseman’s head
until he heard the crowd yelling. The Oriole jumped up, nabbed the ball, and beat A.C. back to the base for the out.

It happened so fast that neither Syl nor Eddie had a chance to run. Unfortunately, they both died on base because Duane grounded
out.

“Sorry, Eddie. Sorry, Syl,” Duane muttered. “I hung you out to dry.”

It was the top of the sixth inning and the score read Orioles 6, Comets 2. That’s how it read at the start of the bottom half,
too. The home run slugger had gotten up again, but this time, he’d struck out.

The mood in the Comets’ dugout was glum. They only had one more chance at bat to get four runs for a tie, five to win. There
was no guarantee they’d even get one.

But they did. Burk, up first, socked a sizzling line drive in the hole between first and second, good for a double. Then Trent
beat the throw to first on a bloopered fly ball. Two men on, no outs. Steve singled, too, to load the bases.

Jim came up next, whirling his bat above his shoulder. He waited for the right pitch and, when it came, knocked a fly ball
into right field. It should have been an easy out. But the outfielder muffed the catch! Burk and Trent both raced home, Steve
stood up at third, and speedy Jim slid safely into second.

Two runs scored, two runners on base, and no outs! The Comets were on their feet, cheering and clapping for their teammates.
Their cheers died a moment later when Eddie dribbled a grounder and was put out at first. They grew quieter still when Kirk
became the second out.

“So, Sylvester, feel a home run coming on, by any chance?” Coach Corbin asked as Kirk trudged to the bench. His tone was light,
but Syl could see hope in his eyes.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Syl replied from the on-deck circle. He approached the plate and readied himself for the pitch.
He let the first two go by for balls, but he liked the third—a lot.

Pow!

The moment he connected he was sure he’d hit a home run. He began his slow jog toward first base, admiring his hit. But then
his admiration turned to horror. The ball dropped inside the fence!

“What’re you doing, Syl?” Trent shouted. “Run!”

Syl was already racing toward first.

“Keep going!” Rod yelled.

Syl rounded the bag and headed for second. It was close, but he slid in under the tag. Safe! Even better, Jim and Eddie made
it, too, crossing home plate to tie the game!

Syl didn’t celebrate, however. If he’d just run all out, he might have stretched his hit into a triple. At the very least,
it would have been a stand-up double instead of such a close call. He was sure Mr. Teacy would have something to say about
his not “giving it everything he had.”

Sure enough, Mr. Teacy gave him an angry glare when he caught Syl looking at him. Then he shifted his gaze to the third baseman.

A slow smile crossed his face. He pointed from Syl to third base. With his hands, he made a sliding motion, rubbing one onto
the other.

Syl nodded his understanding.

Don’t worry, I’ll slide!
he thought.

But Mr. Teacy wasn’t finished communicating with him. Now he lifted one of his feet so that the metal spikes of his shoes
shone in the sunlight. He touched one of the sharp points and made the sliding motion again, only this time, the gesture ended
with his fingertips stabbing toward the third baseman.

Syl gawked in disbelief.
He wants me to spike the Orioles’ slugger when I slide into third!

S
ylvester had intentionally hurt only one other player in his life. Back when he’d been listening to Cheeko’s advice, he’d
jabbed a second baseman in the ribs hard enough to make the boy gasp in pain.

It was an unsportsmanlike move, one that he’d regretted. In fact, he’d felt so bad about it, he swore he’d never do something
like it again.

Yet here was Mr. Teacy ordering him to do much worse to another kid!

Not a chance!
Sylvester shook his head vehemently. Even though his own spikes were just hard rubber, he knew they’d do some damage if they
rammed into flesh.

Mr. Teacy’s expression darkened. He stared daggers at Syl and repeated his gestures again.

Syl just looked away.
Signal all you want, Mr. Teacy,
he thought.
I’m not doing it. I don’t care if it would help us win the game. It’s a dirty play, and I won’t do it.

He turned his attention back to the game.

A.C. was at the plate. When the pitch came, it must have looked as big as a beach ball, because A.C. hit it squarely. He dropped
his bat and tore up the dirt on his way to first base.

Syl, meanwhile, took off for third. He timed his slide perfectly and touched the bag a split second before the Orioles’ baseman
received the ball.

“Safe!” the umpire yelled.

The Comets’ fans and players went crazy, clapping and cheering. There may have been two outs, but the winning run was within
their grasp!

Syl dusted off his pants, risking a glance at Mr. Teacy as he did. He gulped when he saw the man striding toward him, a furious
look on his face.

“I warned you not to disobey my instructions,” Mr. Teacy said.

Syl was about to retort when he realized something was happening on the field. The Orioles’ coach decided it was time to replace
his pitcher. It was a sound move; after all, the hurler had given up four runs in the inning. He may also have hoped that
by halting the game to change pitchers, he would slow the Comets’ momentum.

While the new pitcher jogged to the mound, the Oriole infielders threw the ball around the horn. The third baseman leaped
for a high catch, but missed. Syl turned to watch him retrieve the ball from the dugout. He half-expected to see Mr. Teacy
standing behind him, his usual glare etched on his face. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with Mr. Baruth!