The 823rd Hit by Kurtis Scaletta Page B

bench cracked up.
    I was fuming, but I kept my cool. “The pizza place is open late,” I told him.
    â€¢ • •
    The Porcupines never caught up. They lost to the Rogues, 7–2.
    The next night wasn’t much better. It was my turn to work in the Porcupines’ dugout. They were losing, 6–1, by the fifth inning.
    â€œI’ll be glad when we’re done playing these Rogues,” said Mike Stammer, the Porcupines’ shortstop. He had just struck out for the second time that night. “I won’t miss them a bit.”
    â€œMe, neither,” said Tommy Harris. “The only thing I like about tonight’s pitcher is that he’s not Damien Ricken. Man, that Ricken guyhas a good slider. I really hope we don’t have to face him again this season.”
    â€œYou’d better hope we
do
see them again,” said Teddy Larrabee. Teddy was the first baseman. People call him Teddy “the Bear” Larrabee, because he’s big and kind of hairy. “You’d better hope we see Damien Ricken’s slider, too,” he added. “We’ll have to get past them to win the Prairie League championship.”
    â€œI was hoping we could sneak by when they weren’t looking,” said Wayne Zane.
    â€œThat’s not what I meant,” said Teddy.
    â€œJust sayin’,” said Wayne. Wayne was the catcher, and he
thought
he was the team comedian. He grabbed his bat and went to the on-deck circle while Sammy Solaris, the designated hitter, went to the plate.
    Sammy got a base hit. The crowd cheered, but the Porcupines were still behind by five runs. Wayne strode to the plate. Meanwhile, Teddy headed for the on-deck circle. I had his bat ready.

    Wayne drew a walk. The crowd cheered louder. The Porcupines had a rally going!
    The Bear swung on the first pitch. The ball went high and deep, straight down the right field line. It hit the foul pole, bounced off it, and went into the stands. Now, if a ball hits the foul pole, it’s fair, even if the ball ends up in foul territory. That made Teddy’s hit a home run! The crowd clapped and stomped. The Pines were still down by two runs, but they were coming back!
    Sammy, Wayne, and Teddy circled the bases. We all met them at the dugout steps and traded high fives. Danny O’Brien went up to bat. Brian Daniels was on deck. I used to have trouble telling them apart. Now I could finally keep them straight.
    â€œChad, can you go get that ball back?” Teddy asked. “It’s kind of a big one for me.”
    â€œWhat’s big about it?” Wayne Zane asked.
    I was wondering too. Teddy had hit home runs before, although not enough for this one to be a big number.
    â€œThat was my eight hundred and twenty-third hit,” Teddy explained.
    â€œNo, it wasn’t,” Wayne said. “Not unless you hit about seven hundred in Rookie League. And if you had done that, you’d be in the major leagues by now—
and
be a shoo-in for rookie of the year.”
    â€œI’m not just counting professional baseball hits,” Teddy explained. “I’m counting
every
hit.”
    â€œWhat, like high school baseball?” Sammy asked.
    â€œHigh school, junior high, Little League—all of it,” the Bear replied. “Every hit.”
    â€œEven T-ball?” Wayne asked.
    â€œEven T-ball,” said Teddy. “A hit is a hit.”
    â€œI have a follow-up question,” said Mike. “What’s the big deal about hit number eight hundred and twenty-three?”
    â€œWell,” said Teddy. “Today is August twenty-third. So … today is eight twenty-three. Get it?”
    â€œYeah. That is kind of a coincidence,” Tommy said. He pronounced it “co-inky-dink.”
    â€œAlso,” said Teddy, “today is my birthday.”
    â€œHey! Happy birthday!” Tommy shook his hand. “Wow—you do need to get that ball