The 823rd Hit by Kurtis Scaletta Page A

series. That was great news for the Porcupines—but bad news for me.
    The playoffs would be starting on a Wednesday night. That meant the Porcupines would play their home games on school nights, and then be out of town for the weekend! So the only way I could work a game during the playoffs would be if the Porcupines lost a bunch of games now and sank into third or fourthplace. Then they would start the series on the road and play at home over the weekend.
    That would also give me a chance to see the Porcupines win the first series! They could win one of the first two away games, then come home to win the next two. I could be there for the celebration. That would be awesome beyond belief.
    I clenched my teeth. There was only one way for things to work out my way, and it meant betraying my favorite team.
    I felt sick to my stomach doing it. I was the biggest Pines’ fan in Pine City. As a batboy, I was part of the team. That made it twice as wrong to root against the Porcupines. But I couldn’t help it.
    I cheered to myself when the Pines went on the road and lost five out of six games, including three in a row to the Swedenberg Swatters.
    I started to worry when the Porcupines came home and won three straight games against the Centralville Cougars. In the dugout I was all smiles and high fives and “Way to go!” and “First place, here we come!” I was glad the Pines were playing well. But I had my heart set on being there for some of the playoff games.
    Now it looked like the Porcupines were headed for second place. I was miserable. I would miss the playoff games. Even worse, I had betrayed my favorite team for nothing.
    Then the Rosedale Rogues came to Pine City.

t was my turn to help the opposing team. I walked into the visitors’ locker room, and one of the Rogues asked me to relace his shoes. I was hunched over in the corner, and the players forgot I was there.
    â€œGlad this is the last series in this crummy stadium,” one of the Rogues said.
    â€œIt’s the sorriest sight in the Prairie League,” another player agreed.
    â€œI don’t like the showers here,” said a third player. “The water’s not hot enough, and there’s no pressure.”

    What would they complain about next? That our grass wasn’t green enough? That our baseballs weren’t round enough?
    I finished lacing the shoes and plopped them on the bench. The Rogues still didn’t notice me. Not even the guy who owned the shoes.
    â€œThe food is pretty boring here too,” he said.
    â€œI miss the catfish fingers and hush puppies back in Rosedale,” said another player. It was Damien Ricken. He had just been called up from Rookie League. Ricken was supposed to be a big-deal pitcher.
    By the time the game started, I didn’t care about seeding and school nights. I just wanted the Rosedale Rogues to lose. I wanted them to be sorry they ever came to Pine City. I rooted for the Pines with all my might. Unfortunately, the Rogues were on fire. They scored four runsin the first inning, before the Porcupines even came up to bat. Worse, Damien Ricken struck out the first three Porcupines batters and was back in the dugout before I knew it.
    â€œSo that’s the competition?” he asked the Rogues’ catcher.
    â€œYep,” the catcher answered with a grin.
    Damien noticed me watching.
    â€œHey, kid. Where are the good places to eat around here?”
    â€œUm … I like the food here at the ballpark,” I said. I wanted to make that clear.
    â€œI don’t eat while I’m pitching. What about restaurants?”
    â€œThe Pine City Café,” I said. I liked the pizza place better, but grown-ups always liked the Café.
    â€œDon’t get your hopes up,” the catcher said. “It’ll be closed by the time we get out of here.”
    â€œFigures,” said Damien. “This town is all pines and no city.”
    The guys on the