The Submarine Pitch (6 page)

In the top of the second, Fred got on to Petey’s second pitch, belting it for a double between center and left fields. Bernie,
getting the coach’s signal to bunt, couldn’t latch on to a satisfying pitch, and finally walked. Bill popped out. Then Ed
came through with a high, rainbow drive over Mark Pine’s head in center field that hit the fence and ricocheted back. It was
good for a triple and scored Fred and Bernie. Deke tried to kill Petey’s pitches — falling down twice on his rear — then popped
up to the catcher, Nick Collodino. Buzz grounded out to short to end the hot inning.

Bernie felt as pleased as he ever had when he picked up his glove and walked out to the mound. The day was like a hot oven,
but he didn’t mind. His submarine pitch was working.

He glanced up at the stands and saw Dave
sitting with Frankie, Mom, and Dad. Dad had the day off, and Bernie was glad to see him there. Dad hadn’t seen a game this
year yet, so he hadn’t seen Bernie’s new submarine pitch.

Bernie looked at the batter, Mark Pine. Mark was a big, powerful kid. He had the eyes of a hawk. Bernie wound up, delivered.
The ball came up from his knees and shot toward the plate. Mark reared back and swung.
Swoosh!
He missed the pitch by six inches. Two more swings and he was out.

The Ranger fans roared.

Dick Stone missed with two swings, then popped out to short. Foxy Mattoon waited them out, then laced the three-two pitch
to Bill, who piped it over to first for the third out.

4–0, Rangers.

In the top of the third Tom, leading off, lambasted a triple against the right-field
fence, then perished on the sack as Petey shot down the next three guys on strikeouts.

Needle Hall, who was even skinnier than Ralph Benz, led off for the Atoms. He pulled a surprise, bunting Bernie’s first pitch
down toward third for a base hit. Nick Collodino followed suit with another surprise bunt; then Petey looped a single over
short, driving in the Atoms’ first run.

Now the Atom fans let everybody know they were there, too.

The rally continued, Ralph and Jim both knocking out singles.

“There goes your submarine pitch, Bernie!” yelled Needle, who was now coaching at third.

Hank Dooley ticked the ball twice this time, then popped out to short. Mark, up next, tried again to smash the ball out of
the county and again went down swinging. Dick Stone pounded out a double, scoring
two runs, then Foxy struck out. Rangers 4, Atoms 5.

Bernie felt a big lump in his stomach as he walked off the mound. Darn it! The pitch just wasn’t working again. It was too
erratic
. Was that the word?

“How’s it coming in, Fred?” he asked the catcher in the dugout.

“It’s too low, I think,” said Fred. “It’s not coming up.”

“Bernie, you’re up,” said the coach. “Get on, okay?”

Bernie did, driving a long shot over Hank Dooley’s head that only missed going over the fence by inches. He stopped on third
for his longest hit of the season.

The game was delayed a minute as the coach worked an eyelash out of Bill Conley’s left eye. Then the shortstop walked to the
plate and drilled a single through short, scoring Bernie. Ed got a free pass to first,
advancing Bill to second. Petey got Deke out on a change-up, then tried to pull the same trick on Buzz. But Buzz connected
with the ball solidly, driving it like a meteor over the left-field fence for a long home run. Tom and Rudy both got out,
but four runs had scored. 8–5, Rangers.

The Atoms failed to get a man on during their turn at bat and held the Rangers to one run in the top of the fifth.

They scored once when they came to bat, then kept the Rangers scoreless in the top of the last inning. With two outs in the
bottom of the sixth, they got things rolling again. Foxy started it by winning a free ticket to first. Then Needle socked
a crazy dribbler down to short, which Bill muffed.

Nervous now, and fearing that a hit might start a real hitting spree, Bernie threw four pitches to Nick Collodino, all balls.

The bases were loaded, and Petey was up.

P
etey was a fair batter. He already had a single to his credit. A long hit could clear the bases and give the Rangers something
to worry about.

“Ball!” yelled the ump as Bernie blazed in his first pitch.

What am I going to do — walk him, too?
Bernie asked himself.

He concentrated on pitching then, and placed the next one over the plate. He grooved the next one in the same place, and Petey
swung wildly.

“Strike two!” yelled the ump.

The next pitch snaked up and Petey did it again.

“Strike three!” boomed the ump.

The game was over. Bernie sighed with relief.

He ran off the mound, the Ranger fans applauding him. His parents and AnnMarie came down from the stands and praised him,
too.

“I like that pitch of yours,” his father said, his eyes dancing. “So that’s your famous submarine pitch, is it?”

Bernie beamed. “That’s what they call it,” he said. “You know that Dave Grant told me about it and showed me how to throw
it, don’t you?”

“Yes, I heard that,” said his father. “I guess you owe Dave quite a lot.”

Bernie nodded. “Yes, I do, Dad.”

He looked for Dave and Frankie and saw them coming. They showered Bernie with
some of their own brand of praise, then they all walked home together. Bernie couldn’t help noticing how pale Dave looked.

“You okay, Dave?” he asked. “You look pale.”

Dave shrugged. “I’m okay,” he said.

You’re lying
, thought Bernie.
You’re sick. You must be sick if your face is almost the color of milk
.

At Bernie’s house Dave asked if he could telephone his mother.

“You are sick, aren’t you?” said Bernie.

“Well, just tired. I thought I’d ask my mom to come for me.”

“Why should you do that?” said Mr. Shantz. “I’ll drive you home.”

“But —”

“No buts,” said Mr. Shantz, and went to the garage to get his car. “Come on.”

Bernie watched Dave get into the car and ride off. Something was definitely wrong
with Dave, he was sure of it. But what? That’s what he wanted to know.

A few days later, shortly after lunch, Bernie got a phone call from Dave. It was July 18, the day the Rangers were to meet
the Sharks for the second time.

“Hi, Dave,” said Bernie. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to walk uptown with me,” said Dave.

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you when I see you.”

“Okay. See you in a little while.”

Bernie told his mother where he was going, then walked over to Dave’s house. Dave met him outside and they started to walk
uptown.

“I’ve been saving up dough for a model,” said Dave, a tone of pride in his voice. “The
Constitution.”

“Hey, that’s great.”

“I didn’t want to mention it on the phone because I don’t want my parents to know about it,” explained Dave. “Not yet, anyway.”

Bernie stared at him. “You getting it for them?”

“No. It’s for me. But I want to surprise them just the same.”

In about fifteen minutes they reached the business district. They came to a hobby shop, and Dave paused in front of its large
display window. It was jam-packed with art crafts and models of airplanes, cars, railroads, and ships.

“Oh, no!” Dave cried.

“What’s the matter?” said Bernie.

“It’s gone! The
Constitution’s
gone!” Dave almost sobbed.

He rushed into the building, Bernie at his heels.
It must be some model
, he thought,
if that’s the way Dave feels about it
.

Inside the store Dave paused. Together the boys searched the dozens of craft-loaded shelves for the model of the
Constitution
.

Suddenly Dave shouted, pointing, “There it is, Bernie! Thank goodness it wasn’t sold!”

He raced around a counter loaded with figurines and stopped in front of a row of shelves on which ship models were displayed.
There, at eye level, was one of the most beautiful ship models Bernie had ever seen.

“That’s it,” said Dave. “Isn’t it a beauty, Bern?”

“It sure is,” admitted Bernie.

A tall, dark-haired man came forward. His eyes smiled behind his rimless glasses. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“That model,” said Dave, pointing at the
Constitution
. “How much is it?”

The clerk smiled and rubbed his nose. “Forty-nine ninety-five.”

Bernie stared at Dave and saw that he looked stricken.

“It’s a gorgeous model,” said the clerk. “One of the finest in our store.”

“I know,” Dave said. “I’m sure it’s worth every penny. Thanks.”

They walked out of the store, Dave’s hands deep inside his pockets.

“You don’t have enough money to buy it. Right?” said Bernie.

“Right. All I’ve got is thirty dollars. I never dreamed it would cost that much. Forty-nine ninety-five. Wow.”

Several people were assembled in front of the drugstore, watching a guy demonstrating a yo-yo. The boys stopped to watch,
too.

Bernie thought about the money he was saving toward a brand-new bike. If it weren’t for the bike…

“I can loan you the rest,” he said abruptly. “I’m saving for a bike, but by the time I get the balance that I need, you might
be able to pay me back.”

“No, thanks,” said Dave. “I’ll get it myself. Somehow, I’ll get it.”

“But, why not? It’s not like I’m giving it to you. You’re going to pay me back.”

Dave shook his head. “No. And that’s final, Bern.”

They walked a while in silence. Then Bernie, to break the mood, asked, “How did you raise your money for the model, Dave?”

“Baby-sitting. How did you raise yours?’

“Different ways. Painting a fence was my last job.”

Suddenly he glanced at a clock on the wall of a store. “Hey!” he cried. “It’s three-thirty! I’ll be late for the game!”

His heart pounded and sweat began to
ooze from his forehead. What burned Coach Salerno more than anything was one of his players showing up late at a game.

They started to run. Bernie, a fast runner and with considerable endurance, didn’t realize how far Dave trailed behind him
until he had covered about five blocks. When he looked back Dave was almost two blocks behind him! And Dave was
walking!

“Dave!” Bernie shouted. “You okay?”

Dave waved him on. “Go ahead! Don’t wait for me!”

Bernie frowned.
What shall I do?
he wondered.
Suppose Dave gets sick and nobody’s near him? I can’t go on without him
.

He waited. Dave was literally dragging his feet.

“You okay?” Bernie asked as Dave finally reached him.

“Just tired,” confessed Dave. “I told you to go on. I’ll feel terrible if you’re going to be
late because of me, Bern. And you will be late. Go ahead. Please!”

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Bernie asked.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. See you at the game.”

B
ernie raced all the way home, wriggled into his uniform, and then ran all the way to the ball park, arriving there just as
the game was about to begin. Dick Singer, the utility infielder, was ready to go out on the mound.

“Nice time to get around!” the coach snapped at Bernie. “Where’ve you been?”

“Uptown,” Bernie panted.

“You must’ve run all the way. What kind of a game do you expect to pitch all pooped out like that?”

“Where’s Jeff?” Bernie asked, looking around for the alternate pitcher.

“He’s home nursing a cold. Nice, huh? Well, don’t just stand there. Get out there on the mound and throw some warm-ups. Dick,
relax before you get all pooped out yourself.”

Dick Singer took a deep breath and blew it out, apparently not pleased that he wasn’t starting. He tossed his glove on top
of the dugout, then clambered down into the dugout and sat down.

Bernie walked out to the mound — still tired from the long run — threw in a few warm-up pitches, then stepped to one side
as Fred beelined a throw to Tom at second base. Tom tossed it to Chuck who relayed it back to Bernie.

Well, what kind of a game is this going to be?
Bernie asked himself. He had already gotten a strike on himself by running all that distance from uptown. After that no kid
in his right mind could expect to make a decent
showing pitching to a good team like the Sharks, let alone win the game.

On top of that worry there was another. Dave. Bernie started to sweat just thinking about his friend. Darn it all, he should
have ignored Dave’s plea to go to the game and stayed with him. Dave could have gotten awfully ill and collapsed on the way
home.

I shouldn’t have run
, he told himself despairingly.
Then Dave would not have run, and we both would have arrived at the game in good shape. So what if I were late? Better late
than taking a chance of Dave’s collapsing from whatever he’s suffering from
.

In spite of his misery he laid his first two pitches right on target to Tim MacDonald, the Sharks’ leadoff hitter. His next
pitch was outside. Then Tim tied onto the next one for a clean single; Bernie watched helplessly as the ball streaked through
the infield.

Jess bunted Tim to second and reached first base safely as Chuck Haley, fielding the bunt, threw wide. Both runners advanced
a base, and Butch Ecker came up.

Butch leaned into Bernie’s first pitch, connecting solidly for a double between left and center that scored the two runners.

Bernie’s spirit sank like a lead weight. Two runs already, and not yet an out.

Then Vince stepped to the plate, digging his toes into the dirt as he got ready for Bernie’s first pitch. He wasn’t smiling
now; he was serious, as if nothing were more important to him at this moment than blasting Bernie’s pitch out of the lot.

Bernie glanced briefly at the stands. Had Dave arrived yet, or had he gone home? Was he okay?
What kind of a friend am I, anyway
, thought Bernie,
for leaving him there on the street? Oh, man. Just for a lousy baseball game
.