The Submarine Pitch (7 page)

He stepped on the mound, stretched, and delivered. The moment he released the ball he knew that the pitch still lacked the
speed and zip to make it effective.

Crack!
Vince’s solid smash proved it. The ball sizzled out to right center for a two-bagger, bringing in another run for the Sharks.
Vince stood on the sack, smiling triumphantly and clapping.

Bob Kolowski then popped out and Sam Norton flied out. But Andy Cornwall connected safely, driving a shot past Buzz for a
hit.

“Your submarine pitch is sunk, Bernie!” Vince yelled to him as he rounded third base toward home. “You might as well get ready
for the showers!”

Bernie tried to ignore him as he caught the throw in, rubbed the ball, and hoped —hoped for the tiredness to creep out of
his body, the ache to leave his muscles. Mick
Devlan was up next, and Bernie got back on the mound, intent on making Mick end the rally.

He didn’t. Mick belted the first pitch over second for a single, advancing Andy to third.

A lump lodged in Bernie’s throat. He was pitching the worst he had ever pitched. Why didn’t the coach pull him?

But Coach Salerno was sitting there in the dugout as if he didn’t have a worry in the world.

Luke Kish, the Sharks’ pitcher, ended the fat inning with a one-bouncer directly back to Bernie, who threw to first for the
third out.

Four big runs. It looked like the start of a slaughter.

Bernie went in sulking and sat down at the end of the bench. He was certainly glad he wasn’t one of the first batters. He
needed the rest; he had been standing out there long enough.

He was surprised when the coach came and sat down beside him.

“You’re probably wondering why I didn’t take you out,” said the coach. Bernie shrugged. “Well, let me tell you. You’re a little
tired from having run from uptown, which was a stupid thing to do in the first place. Right? But, by the second inning — or
maybe the third — you’ll feel better, and you’ll begin to pitch like your old self again. You’ve got a good pitch, Bernie.
It’s not unique, but there aren’t many guys who can throw it like you can. All you have to do now is forget about that first
inning. When you get back out there think of it as a new ball game. Pitch like you pitched the last game and you’ll have the
Sharks wrapped around your finger.”

The talk melted the lump in Bernie’s throat, the heavy feeling in his heart.

He grinned. “Thanks, Coach.”

He watched Bill Conley slice at three
straight pitches, then walk stiffly to the dugout, his bat on his shoulder.

Ed got a good feel of the ball, driving it out to deep left where Vince pulled it in. Deke cracked the ice by slashing out
a single through short, then advancing to second as Buzz walked.

Excitement began to generate on the Ranger bench as Tom got up. He poled two sharp blows just inches outside of the left-field
foul line, then lined one directly at Vince. Three outs, one hit, no runs. The excitement died.

Bernie again found himself facing the top of the Sharks’ batting order. He felt rested, but hardly enough. Nevertheless, with
Tim popping up to third, Jess flying out to center, and himself catching a one-hopper that he threw to first for an easy out,
he squeezed through the inning.

Rudy fouled two pitches to the backstop
screen, then smashed a hot grounder to third. He was out before he was two-thirds of the way to first.

Chuck laced Luke’s first pitch for a long double, then scored on Fred’s single through second.

“Okay, Bernie,” said the coach. “Let’s start a merry-go-round.”

Bernie had to practically drag himself out of the dugout. He picked up his bat, stepped to the plate, and eyed Luke’s first
pitch carefully. It was a ball. So were Luke’s next three. Bernie walked.

Bill, after looking over Luke’s first two throws — strikes — flied out to left. Ed kept the Rangers alive by driving Fred
in with a grass-scorching single through short. But that was it as Deke flied out to center field. 4–2, Sharks.

Bernie felt better as he walked up on the mound to start the first half of the third inning.
Vince was up, and again he was smile-less, fully determined to powder Bernie’s pitch clean out of the county.

He didn’t, though. He ticked the first pitch, missed the next, then went down on his fanny as he swung and missed again. The
Ranger fans roared.

Bob went down swinging, too, and Sam popped up to first.

“You’re in the groove, Bernie!” cried the coach as Bernie came trotting in. “How do you feel, pal?”

“Much better,” Bernie said with a smile.

Buzz started off the bottom of the third with a triple, finally scoring on Rudy’s blazing single through short. Then the combination
of good pitching and good fielding on both sides kept the fourth and fifth innings scoreless. The four runs that the Sharks
had accumulated in the first inning began to look very big.

As the Rangers came to bat in the bottom of the sixth, Bernie glanced at the stands again for Dave’s familiar face. He was
sure that if Dave had come to the game he’d be sitting with Frankie. But only AnnMarie was there with him.

Both Chuck and Fred grounded out. One more out, and the victory would go to the Sharks, and the one guy who would never let
Bernie forget it would be Vince.

Bernie, at bat, felt that he had never been in a worse spot in his life.

He watched Luke take his stretch, then saw the ball come in, blazing white. He reared back, swung, and
crack!
The ball streaked across the infield and shot past the shortstop for a hit.

The Ranger fans exploded with a tumultuous yell; then Dick, who had replaced Bill in the fourth inning, came to the plate.
Crack!
He connected with a double to left
center, and Bernie ran to third where the third-base coach held him up.

Arnie Coles, batting for Ed, kept up the spree, scoring Bernie with a single. And so did Deke with a long triple against the
right-field fence that scored Dick and Arnie. It was over. The Rangers had found the magic touch.

Bernie didn’t linger around for the congratulations. He ran to the stands where he met Frankie and AnnMarie coming down.

“Why didn’t Dave come?” he asked anxiously.

“We don’t know,” said AnnMarie. “We wondered that, too.”

They hurried home, and Bernie telephoned the Grant residence. The phone rang four times, then the answering machine picked
up. Bernie hung up, an ache in his throat. He knew something awful had happened to Dave. He could feel it in his bones.

“Mom,” he said, choking back the ache in his throat, “will you call the hospital for me? See if Dave’s there?”

She frowned. “You think he might be there?”

He nodded, silent.

“All right,” she said.

She made the call. A few seconds later she replaced the receiver and looked at him. Her hands were trembling. “He’s there,”
she said. “In the intensive care ward.”

“Can I see him?” he asked.

“No. Nobody can, except his closest relatives.”

Bernie went to his room, took off his uniform, and lay on the bed, praying that Dave would be all right.

An hour later the phone rang, startling Bernie. He was sitting by the living room
window, looking out at a bluejay perched on the fence.

His mother answered it. “Bernie,” she said, and cleared her voice. “It’s for you.”

He went to the phone, his legs unsteady, and took the receiver from his mother. “Hello?” he said.

“Bernie, this is Mr. Grant. I wanted to thank you for calling, but I — I’ve got some sad news to tell you.”

“About… Dave?”

“Yes, about Dave,” said Mr. Grant. “He has a disease of the liver. I guess he didn’t tell you. He never told anybody. He’s
been fighting a battle with it for the last two years. I hope he’s going to get well, but Bernie, he doesn’t look too good
right now.”

Bernie felt his heart split into a million pieces. He choked back tears. “Thanks for calling me, Mr. Grant,” he said.

He told the sad news to his family, and when he saw their eyes blink with tears he didn’t hold back any longer.

The next morning he went to the hobby shop and bought the model of the
Constitution
that Dave had been saving up for.

He came out of the store and couldn’t believe it when he saw Vince standing there.

“Hi, Bernie,” Vince greeted him calmly. “I was coming down the street and saw you go in there. I wanted to apologize about
the way I’ve been acting lately. I guess the track team thing got me down.” He paused, then continued. “Too bad about Dave,
huh?”

“Yes, it is.”

They started to walk down the street together.

“I never knew he was sick, did you?” Vince asked.

“No. He never told anybody. But I suspected that something was wrong with him. He always got tired so quickly.”

“He’s a great kid. He showed you how to throw that submarine pitch, didn’t he?”

Bernie nodded. “He showed me because he couldn’t pitch himself,” he said, feeling a lump rising in his throat.

They crossed to the next block.

“Dave was saving to buy this model,” said Bernie. “Now that he’s so sick, I thought I would for him. I was going to buy a
bike, but I figure this model of the
Constitution
is a lot better.”

“It sure is a beauty,” admitted Vince. “Here, let me carry it for a while. It must be pretty heavy.”

“It is,” said Bernie, as he handed it over to Vince.

They took turns carrying it as they walked all the way home.

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Catch That Pass!	Football Fugitive
Catcher with a Glass Arm	Football Nightmare
Catching Waves	The Fox Steals Home