stretched, and fired the ball.
Crack!
A drive over short! A real Texas leaguer! The runner on first rounded second. Left fielder Tony Wells fielded the ball quickly
and pegged it in to third. The runner hustled back to second base.
Wally stared unbelievingly at the batter, who was now standing on first. A little guy, but boy, could he hit!
Coach Hutter called time and walked out to the mound.
“Relax, Wally,” he said. “You’re too tight.Loosen up. Throw that ball around their knees. You can do it.”
Wally nodded. He knew what he was supposed to do. He just didn’t think he was any good at it. Why did Coach Hutter think so?
The coach walked off the field. Wally got ready to pitch again. There were men on first and second, and two outs. He stretched,
delivered.
A hot grounder to short! It zipped past Ken Asher for a clean single.
The runner on second scored. The runner on first advanced to second, then stopped. The hitter, after running halfway to second,
returned to the first-base bag.
The next hitter singled in another run. Then Wally caught a one-hopper that was hit directly at him. He threw the man out
at first and walked off the field with the cheers of the Pacers’ fans ringing hollowly in his ears.
What a terrible inning, he thought. Can’t Coach Hutter see that I’m no pitcher? Can’t he see that I play right field much
better than I pitch and that I would rather play right field?
Couldn’t Coach Hutter see that?
2
C hris McCray was the first man up to start the bottom of the fifth inning. Chris was stocky. Freckles sprinkled his face, and
his hair was fiery red. He took a called strike, then two balls, then blasted a high pitch to deep center. It sure looked
as if it were going out into the wild blue yonder. But the Canaries’ outfielder sprinted back after it and made a beautiful
one-handed catch.
Lee Benton grounded out, and William “Sawbones” Davis walked. Wally was up again.
He didn’t feel at ease now. He was still edgy over the last half-inning.
He watched the first pitch go by. A strike.
The next looked as if it were coming close to the plate. He swung at it, then tried to hold his bat back as he saw the ball
was coming in too high.
“Strike two!” said the umpire. He had swung too far.
His nerves were jumping as he waited for the next pitch. It came, low and slightly inside. He cut at it. Missed!
“Strike three!” shouted the umpire.
Wally turned and walked away from the batter’s box, his head bowed. He couldn’t hit when he felt edgy. And nothing made him
edgier than pitching.
The Pacers trotted back out to the field.
“Just take your time out there, Wally,” said Coach Hutter encouragingly as Wally pickedup his glove and started for the mound. “You’re better than they are.”
You think so, Coach, thought Wally. But I’m not. I know I’m not.
He was glad that this was the last inning. Three outs. That was all they needed. Three outs and it would be over.
Wally walked the first batter. Chris rubbed the ball as he carried it back to the mound.
“You seem jumpy,” Chris said. “What’re you worried about? We’re five runs ahead, and this is their last chance.”
Wally took the ball from Chris. “I’m no pitcher,” he said. “Why does he put me in here?”
“You’re left-handed, and you have a good arm — that’s why,” replied Chris. “Coach Hutter knows what he’s doing. Okay. Bear
down, buddy and let’s strike ’em out.”
Chris trotted back to his position behind the plate. The shin guards and chest protector looked bulky and clumsy on him.
Wally tried to bear down on the next hitter. He threw two pitches that were just outside of the plate, then grooved the next
two. But the hitter lambasted the next pitch to left center field for a neat triple, scoring a run.
Chris caught a straight-up, straight-down foul for the first out. Then J.J. nabbed a long fly to center. But the runner on
third scored after
Crack!
A drive over short! A real Texas leaguer! The runner on first rounded second. Left fielder Tony Wells fielded the ball quickly
and pegged it in to third. The runner hustled back to second base.
Wally stared unbelievingly at the batter, who was now standing on first. A little guy, but boy, could he hit!
Coach Hutter called time and walked out to the mound.
“Relax, Wally,” he said. “You’re too tight.Loosen up. Throw that ball around their knees. You can do it.”
Wally nodded. He knew what he was supposed to do. He just didn’t think he was any good at it. Why did Coach Hutter think so?
The coach walked off the field. Wally got ready to pitch again. There were men on first and second, and two outs. He stretched,
delivered.
A hot grounder to short! It zipped past Ken Asher for a clean single.
The runner on second scored. The runner on first advanced to second, then stopped. The hitter, after running halfway to second,
returned to the first-base bag.
The next hitter singled in another run. Then Wally caught a one-hopper that was hit directly at him. He threw the man out
at first and walked off the field with the cheers of the Pacers’ fans ringing hollowly in his ears.
What a terrible inning, he thought. Can’t Coach Hutter see that I’m no pitcher? Can’t he see that I play right field much
better than I pitch and that I would rather play right field?
Couldn’t Coach Hutter see that?
2
C hris McCray was the first man up to start the bottom of the fifth inning. Chris was stocky. Freckles sprinkled his face, and
his hair was fiery red. He took a called strike, then two balls, then blasted a high pitch to deep center. It sure looked
as if it were going out into the wild blue yonder. But the Canaries’ outfielder sprinted back after it and made a beautiful
one-handed catch.
Lee Benton grounded out, and William “Sawbones” Davis walked. Wally was up again.
He didn’t feel at ease now. He was still edgy over the last half-inning.
He watched the first pitch go by. A strike.
The next looked as if it were coming close to the plate. He swung at it, then tried to hold his bat back as he saw the ball
was coming in too high.
“Strike two!” said the umpire. He had swung too far.
His nerves were jumping as he waited for the next pitch. It came, low and slightly inside. He cut at it. Missed!
“Strike three!” shouted the umpire.
Wally turned and walked away from the batter’s box, his head bowed. He couldn’t hit when he felt edgy. And nothing made him
edgier than pitching.
The Pacers trotted back out to the field.
“Just take your time out there, Wally,” said Coach Hutter encouragingly as Wally pickedup his glove and started for the mound. “You’re better than they are.”
You think so, Coach, thought Wally. But I’m not. I know I’m not.
He was glad that this was the last inning. Three outs. That was all they needed. Three outs and it would be over.
Wally walked the first batter. Chris rubbed the ball as he carried it back to the mound.
“You seem jumpy,” Chris said. “What’re you worried about? We’re five runs ahead, and this is their last chance.”
Wally took the ball from Chris. “I’m no pitcher,” he said. “Why does he put me in here?”
“You’re left-handed, and you have a good arm — that’s why,” replied Chris. “Coach Hutter knows what he’s doing. Okay. Bear
down, buddy and let’s strike ’em out.”
Chris trotted back to his position behind the plate. The shin guards and chest protector looked bulky and clumsy on him.
Wally tried to bear down on the next hitter. He threw two pitches that were just outside of the plate, then grooved the next
two. But the hitter lambasted the next pitch to left center field for a neat triple, scoring a run.
Chris caught a straight-up, straight-down foul for the first out. Then J.J. nabbed a long fly to center. But the runner on
third scored after
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