The Submarine Pitch (5 page)

Bernie wanted to ask Dave if his mother had an errand to do or if she were driving directly home. Then he changed his mind.
It wasn’t his business, he told himself. And if
Dave were sick or something, and didn’t want to tell anyone about it, that was
his
business.

Just the same, Dave was his good friend and it was hard to ignore the way he’d been behaving lately.

Both teams took their batting and infield practices. Then, promptly at four, the game started. The Rangers were at bat first,
with Bernie in the lineup. On the mound for the Sharks was Luke Kish, a tall right-hander with a mop of curly black hair that
his baseball cap was barely large enough to sit on.

Bill took a called strike, then asked for time out and ran to the dugout for another bat. When he was settled in the batter’s
box again, he leaned into a high pitch and blazed it to Vince in left field for the first out. Ed connected with a double
and Deke walked,
bringing a rousing cheer from the Ranger fans and Buzz up to the plate.

Luke brushed two strikes past him, missed the corner on the next three pitches, then fired one on a level with Buzz’s knees.
Crack!
Buzz sent it spark-flying to second base. The result was a quick double play, second to first.

Disappointed that they couldn’t score even one of the two runners, the Rangers gathered up their gloves and ambled out to
their positions. Bernie tossed in three warm-up pitches, then stood on the rubber and faced the first man, Tim MacDonald.
Tim was the shortest kid on the Sharks. He must have been ordered to just stand there and not swing, because that’s just what
he did, and it earned him a free pass to first.

Jess Miller tried to bunt the first pitch, missed, then tried to bunt the second pitch and missed that one, too. Then he struck
out.

The ball sailed around the horn.

Bernie measured Butch Ecker’s height with a calm glance, then fired two inside pitches past him. Two corner cutters evened
up the count, two and two. On deck was Vince, swinging two bats with metal doughnuts on them.

Bernie felt his heart pound as he got ready to throw the next pitch. Vince really looked sure of himself. What had he said?
Mick and I made a bet that one of us will knock your submarine pitch back into the sea
.

That
guy
really bugs me
, thought Bernie.

He stretched, then blazed in the ball, bringing it up from his knees, and giving it a slight twist just as he released it.
Crack!
The ball looped over short for a Texas leaguer hit!

Up to the plate strode Vince, a confident smile on his lips. It lingered there as he waited for Bernie’s first pitch.

C
rack!

The blow was loud and solid as the ball shot out to deep left, curving toward the foul line. A yell broke simultaneously from
the fans, then deflated to a sad groan as the ball struck foul by inches.

“You was robbed, Vince!” yelled a Shark fan.

“He was lucky, Bernie!” came another voice, one that Bernie recognized. “He hit it by accident!”

He glanced in the direction from which the sound had come and saw both Dave and
Frankie sitting halfway up the stands behind the backstop. Dave waved to him, while Frankie sat quiet and composed beside
him, indifferent to the long foul shot.

Bernie breezed in two more pitches that Vince let go by. Two balls, one strike. Then Vince swung, this time getting just a
piece of the ball. Bernie pitched again. Outside. Three and two.

He stepped off the mound, rubbed the ball nervously, then got back on again. He stretched, delivered, and watched the ball
shoot up toward the plate, coming close to Vince. Too close. Vince pulled his bat back ready to swing, then tried to dodge
the ball as it headed directly at him. He wasn’t quick enough and the ball struck him a glancing blow on the hip.

A gasp tore from Bernie as he stared at Vince, wondering if he were hurt. But apparently Vince wasn’t, for he dropped his
bat and calmly started for first, loading the bases.

“Afraid I’d sink one of your submarine pitches, Bernie?” he ’said.

Bernie didn’t answer. Hitting Vince bothered him, though. The last thing he wanted to do was hit a batter.

Then he walked in a run by giving Bob Kolowski a free pass.

Fred Button called time and trotted out to the mound. “You okay, Bernie?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” said Bernie. Sweat glistened on his face. The sun was hot, but it wasn’t the sun’s heat that bothered him. It
was hitting Vince.

“Relax,” said Fred. “Just get those pitches over, that’s all.”

“Right.”

He did, and struck out the next two men.

Rangers 0, Sharks 1.

Tom McDermott led off the top of the
second with a streaking single through short. Rudy Sims bunted him to second, but that was as far as he got as Chuck and Fred
flied and grounded out, respectively.

Mick Devlan, leading off for the Sharks, walked. Luke Kish got a feel of Bernie’s submarine pitch with a foul tick, then grounded
out. Tim, batting for the second time, popped out to short, and Jess landed on his bottom as he went down swinging.

Bernie’s heart pounded as he stepped up to the plate to lead off the top of the third inning. He couldn’t explain it, but
he always hated being the leadoff batter in any inning.

He took two called strikes, then held his breath as Luke breezed two inside pitches by him. Both were teasers for him to bite
on.

Then Luke fired in a fast ball that came up along Bernie’s chest. Bernie cut at it, swinging harder than he had so far this
year, and met the ball squarely. It sailed out to deep
left like a white rocket, but it was a mile high and gave Vince plenty of time to get under it. Vince put it away easily,
and Bernie, already halfway to first, slowed down, turned, and ran back to the bench.
Should’ve known I’d never smash one over the fence
, he thought dispiritedly.

The top of the batting order was up again. Bill stepped to the plate, then called time to tie his shoelaces. Then he knocked
the dirt off the soles of his shoes with his bat before stepping into the batting box.

“You sure you’re ready now?” the umpire asked him.

Bill nodded, smiling.

Luke pitched.
Crack!
Bill drilled it over short for a single.

Ed struck out. Then Deke, after fouling two pitches to the backstop screen, spiked a down-the-middle pitch close to the left-field
foul line for a triple, scoring Bill. Buzz
ripped a single through short, scoring Deke, then Tom flied out, ending the two-run rally.

Butch was the first man up for the Sharks in the bottom of the third. As he rubbed the toes of his shoes into the dirt to
dig in for Bernie’s pitch, Bernie took the time to look behind the backstop screen. He saw Frankie, but not Dave. A sudden
chill rippled through him. What had happened to him? Why wasn’t he there? He had an intuition that something awful had happened
to his friend.

He turned his attention back to the game and saw that Butch was ready. He stretched, delivered.

“Ball!” boomed the ump.

Bernie drilled in another. “Ball two!”

He caught Fred’s toss back and glanced up at the stands. Dave was still missing.

He fired in a strike, then two more balls.

“Take your base!” yelled the ump.

Bernie did no better with Vince, nor with Bob. Three walks in a row and not an out.

Fred called time out again and ran out to ask Bernie if he were all right.

“Sure, I’m all right,” Bernie answered stiffly.

“You sure aren’t throwing as if you are,” Fred answered.

“Well, I am. Get back where you belong, will you?”

Fred stared at him, then spun on his heels and trotted back to his position.

Sam was up. He had struck out the first time at bat. He didn’t look dangerous, but in
this
inning nobody had to get a free pass to first base. It seemed all you needed was a uniform and a bat on your shoulder.

Oh, man, what am I thinking!
Bernie asked himself.
All I’m doing is walking the guys. Why doesn’t the coach take me out?
Can’t he see that I’m missing the plate by a yard?

He stepped on the rubber, eyed the plate, and tried to concentrate on the pitch. He couldn’t. He could only think about Dave.
Something had happened to him. He was sure of it. Right after the half-inning was over he’d ask Franke. He wouldn’t be able
to continue playing without knowing.

He stretched, and delivered a sidearm pitch that was down the pipe. Sam met it with the fat part of his bat and Bernie heard
the message:
It’s gone!
The blow to left center was a three-bagger for Sam and the end of the line for Bernie.

Coach Salerno took him out and put in Jeff Eastman.

“You feel all right, Bernie?” the coach asked as he met Bernie in front of the dugout.

“Yeah. I’m okay. I just can’t get it over, that’s all.”

“You look as if you’ve got your mind in Timbuktu. Sit it out. Maybe you’ll come back to earth after a while.”

Then the coach squeezed his shoulder lightly and laughed. “I’m kidding, Bernie. You’re just having one of those days. It’ll
pass.”

Bernie shrugged, started for the dugout, and looked up at the stands again. A peculiar sensation stirred through him and he
began to feel foolish.

Dave was there now, and he looked perfectly fine.

A
ndy flied out to left. Mick popped out to Bill and Luke grounded out, ending the Shark’s fat half-inning. Rangers 2, Sharks
4.

Maybe Jeff should’ve started instead of me
, Bernie thought.

Rudy Sims led off in the top of the fourth with a series of foul balls, then struck out. Chuck doubled. Fred, belting three
fouls in a row, finally popped out to Mick.

Bernie had visions of the game going down the drain and of Vince popping off to him, uttering sarcastic remarks. He had a
good idea why Vince acted that way toward him; it had started shortly after track season, when Bernie had outrun Vince in
the 50-and 100-yard dashes. That had qualified Bernie to run against other schools in the league and had earned him over half
a dozen first prizes. Vince hated to see that somebody was better than he was.

Jeff waited out Luke’s pitches to the limit, then cracked the three-two pitch to short. Tim MacDonald muffed it and Jeff was
safe on first. Then Bill lined out a streaking single, scoring Chuck. Ed flied out, and that was it.

Tim, leading off for the Sharks, lined Jeff’s first pitch to center field for a hit, scooted to second on Jess’s sacrifice
bunt, then scored on Butch’s shot to left field. Vince popped a foul fly to Deke, who caught the ball near the Sharks’ dugout.
Then Bob bashed a double over third base to score Butch, and Sam
Norton grounded out, ending the Sharks two-run rally.

Buzz’s triple, and Rudy’s single, gave a breath of life to the Rangers as they picked up one run in the top of the fifth.
The Sharks couldn’t score at their turn at bat, but held the Rangers scoreless too in the top of the sixth and won 6–4.

Bernie hoped to avoid meeting Vince as he left the field, but Vince cornered him almost immediately.

“What happened to your submarine pitch, Bernie?” he asked. “Run out of fuel? It didn’t even surface!”

“Why don’t you go and haunt somebody else for a while, Vince?” Frankie snapped.

Vince punched him lightly on the shoulder, hardly enough to hurt. “What are you — your brother’s dummy?” He laughed then and
dropped back, waiting for Mick to join him.

“Why’s he like that?” Dave asked as he, Bernie, and Frankie started off the field. “He picks on you as if he’s mad at you.”

“He is mad, because I beat him out in track,” said Bernie. “I’ve got ribbons to show for it and he doesn’t.”

“So
that’s
what bugs him.” Dave shook his head. “I don’t know about him. He’s a good baseball player. What else does he want?”

“He wants to show me that he can hit my submarine pitch,” replied Bernie.

“He won’t, though. Not if you’re on. What happened to you today, anyway? Frankie told me that you hit Vince, then couldn’t
get a pitch over the plate.”

Bernie looked at him. “That’s right. But what happened to
you?
Where did you disappear to?”

Dave shrugged. “I went for a drink.”

Bernie stared at him. “That’s all you did?”

Dave matched his stare. “That’s all I did.
Why? Was that what bothered you? My not being there for a little while?”

Bernie nodded, letting out a deep breath.

“Let’s forget it,” he said, but he wondered if Dave was telling the whole truth.

The Rangers’ next scheduled game was against the Atoms. Jeff wasn’t present and Bernie figured he’d have to pitch the whole
game. Well, if he was going good, he wouldn’t mind it. Anyway, he shouldn’t have to worry much. They had beat the pants off
the Atoms in the practice game, 9–3.

The Rangers batted first. Pitching for the Atoms was a short, stout kid called Petey Waterman. Bill, leading off, looked over
Petey’s first two pitches, both strikes, then laced the next one into right center for a long triple. Ed flied out, but both
Deke and Buzz pounded the ball for safe hits. Then Tom grounded out.

Rudy found the handle of Petey’s pitches again and walloped out a double, scoring Deke and advancing Buzz to third. Bernie
felt relieved now that he could get out there with at least two runs to back him up. “Come on, Chuck!” he yelled. “Bring ’im
in!”

But Buzz died on third as Chuck flied out to center fielder Mark Pine.

The first batter to face Bernie was the skinny kid, Ralph Benz, who looked like the letter Z as he stood bent over the plate.
Bernie wound up and threw his submarine pitch — even the
Lake Center News
was calling it that — and got Ralph swinging at the air. Ralph went down after four pitches.

Jim Hayes popped up to Chuck. But Hank Dooley was stubborn. He kept ticking Bernie’s pitches as if he were seeking a record
for fouls. Finally, after the sixth tick, he flied out to Bill.