Kid Coach

by Fred Bowen

  “Come on, Scottie,” Fran called from third base. “One more out. No batter, no batter.”

  Scott hurled a hard pitch toward the outside corner of the plate. The Yankee batter knocked a powerful hopper to the right side of the infield. Danny, who was playing first base, dove to his right and knocked the ball down.

  In a flash, Scott dashed off the mound to cover first base. Scrambling to his knees, Danny tossed the ball toward first. Racing to first, Scott reached out, caught the ball, and touched the bag a split second before the runner.

  “Out!” the umpire cried.

  The Tigers were out of the inning!

  “Listen up!” Scott shouted as the Tigers got ready to hit in the bottom of the third inning. “Next inning, Drew’s pitching and I’m playing short. Danny and Nick switch. Benny’s in right for Sam. Brendan, you’re in left for Peter. Let’s get some runs.”

  The Tigers didn’t score and neither did the Yankees. In the bottom of the fourth, Danny and Scott led with a pair of singles.

  “Come on, Fran!” Scott shouted from first base. “Big stick.”

  Fran watched two pitches go by and then scorched a line drive to center field. Scott and Danny sprinted around the bases as the ball flew over the head of the surprised Yankee center fielder. The Tigers had cut the lead to 5–4.

  The Tigers were still trailing by one run when they came to bat in the bottom of the sixth and final inning.

  “Last licks,” Scott cried. “Fran, Max, Brendan, Benny, and then the top of the order.”

  “Let’s put on our rally caps!” Drew shouted as he walked down the Tigers bench with his hat on backwards. As he walked by, all of the Tigers turned their hats around.

  “Come on, Fran, get it going. Rally time!”

  The Tigers rally started slowly when Fran grounded out to the pitcher. Max popped a weak single to right field. Brendan struck out swinging.

  But the Tigers hopes for a winning season were down to the last out. Two outs, runner on first, Scott thought, and the Tigers worst hitter, Benjamin P. Myles, coming to bat.

  Drew grabbed Scott by the arm. “Scott, you gotta pinch-hit Eric for the Brain!”

  Scott looked down the bench at Eric, who was chewing gum and swinging his legs back and forth. “He’s not so hot either,” whispered Scott.

  “Give Benny a chance,” said Fran. “He’s been hitting better in practice.”

  “He’s only gotten one hit in a game,” Drew snapped at Fran.

  “He’s due for another!” Fran yelled back.

  “Cut it out guys. Let him hit,” Scott said as he turned his eyes toward Benny and held his breath.

  “Oh, man …” Drew groaned, falling back against the dugout wall.

  Benny tapped the plate with his bat and assumed his stance.

  “Come on, Benny,” Fran cheered. “Only takes one. Be a hitter.”

  The first pitch whistled by him. Strike one.

  “Yeah, come on, Brain!” Drew shouted. “Hit that peach.”

  Scott turned to Drew with angry eyes. “Cut it out!” he said.

  The second pitch skipped low. Ball one.

  “What did I do?” Drew asked.

  “You know what you did,” said Fran. “Stop being a jerk.”

  Benny swung and missed the next pitch. One ball, two strikes.

  “You think I’m being a jerk?” asked Drew. “I’m not the one putting up the worst hitter on the team for the most important at bat in the season!”

  The three friends looked out to home plate without much hope. On the next pitch, Benny took a full swing but only connected with the top part of the ball, sending it dribbling down toward third base. Benny sprinted to first with a single on the infield grass just inside the foul line.

  The Tigers bench filled with cheers.

  “All right!” Fran shouted. “I told you Benny was due for a hit!”

  “Yeah, a lucky hit,” Scott said as he let out his breath in a whoosh.

  “All right, Brain!” Drew shouted. “Way to hit that.” Drew hesitated and glanced at Scott and Fran. “Way to hit that apple.”

  Maggie walked to load up the bases. The Tigers were on their feet.

  “Come on, Nick. Just meet it.”

  “Two outs,” Scott reminded the runners. “Go on anything.”

  The Tiger runners were off when Nick ripped a line drive to left field. Max made it easily to home and Benny wheeled around third base, racing the left fielder’s throw to the plate. The ball bounced just in front of the Yankee catcher and skidded away as Benny slid across the plate in a spray of dirt.

  The Tigers had won 6–5!

  The whole team surrounded Benny at home plate, happily slapping his back and helmet. Then, above all the noise and joy came Drew’s voice. “All right, Peaches!” he shouted.

  Inside the circle of happy teammates, Benny’s head jerked back in surprise. Benny looked at Drew, then to Scott. Benny and Scott’s eyes met for a moment. Scott looked away and then toward Drew and just shook his head.

  Fran just stood there frozen, not saying a word.

  As the excitement died down, Fran loosened up and Scott grabbed the game ball. The Tigers gathered around Scott. Everyone was excited about the big win. “Quiet down. I’ve got the ball so I’m the only one who can talk,” said Scott. “That was a great game. We had a lot of heroes. But I think the game ball should go to.” Scott searched the circle of players for Benny, but Benny was gone. Past the players, Scott saw Benny walking quickly away.

  Scott paused. “Fran,” he said finally, tossing the ball to the surprised third sacker.

  The team cheered and slowly wandered away. Scott and Fran stayed behind, putting the equipment in the big brown bag.

  “I didn’t deserve the game ball,” Fran said, picking up a batting helmet from behind the backstop. “Benny deserved it. Or maybe Nick. They got the big hits. Poor Benny. I bet he’s pretty upset.”

  “Why did Drew have to call him Peaches?” said Scott as he slammed a bat into the bag. “Now he knows I told Drew his secret.”

  Fran handed the batting helmet to Scott and said, “Well, I guess you’ll just have to say you’re sorry,” she said.

  “I guess so,” Scott answered.

  Fran flipped Scott the game ball. “Here,” she said. “Give this to Benny when you talk to him. Maybe it will help say you’re sorry.”

  TWELVE

  I’m not sure where Benjamin is,” Mrs. Myles said to Scott as he stood at the Myleses’ front door the next evening. “He went out on his bike about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Do you know where he went?”

  Mrs. Myles thought for a moment. “He’s been going down to the school a lot lately to practice catching fly balls. He throws the ball against the high brick wall in the back,” she said, and then paused. “Wait a minute. He didn’t take his glove with him. He took his notebook,” she said, mostly to herself. “You know what, Scott? I bet he’s gone to the baseball field to watch a game. Try there.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Mrs. Myles,” Scott said. He hopped on his bicycle and pedaled toward the field. Along the way, he thought of what he would say to Benny. Scott had wanted to apologize to Benny at school but he hadn’t seen him.

  Scott stopped on the small hill overlooking the baseball field. He saw Benny sitting alone on a corner of the small grandstand with a notebook on his lap. Scott parked his bike and walked slowly to the stands, plopping himself on the row below Benny. “Hey,” he said, trying to sound cheerful.

  “Oh, hi,” Benny said. He looked up from his notebook for just a second, then he made a mark in it and looked back at the game.

  Scott figured he should get it over with. “Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry about the whole Peaches thing with Drew. I shouldn’t have told him.”

  “I asked you not to,” Benny said, still watching the game.

  “Yeah, I know,” said Scott. “But … well … I’m sorry.”

  Benny kept looking out at the game as he spoke
. “I was just getting used to the kids calling me Brain. I don’t need another nickname, you know. And why did you tell Drew? He’s the worst.”

  “He’s not so bad,” Scott said.

  “Not to you,” said Benny, “because you’re good at sports.”

  Scott reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the game ball. “You left the last game too early,” Scott said. “I was gonna give you the game ball.”

  Benny looked at the ball. “Give it to somebody else,” he said, turning his attention to the game. “I don’t want your game ball.”

  “You know, Benny, you’re really our Most Valuable Player. I mean the stats you’ve been keeping turned our club around,” said Scott. “I don’t think the other guys would think it’s weird if they knew you were keeping them.”

  “Maybe not,” said Benny, still scribbling away in his notebook.

  “What are you doing?” Scott asked, pointing to the notebook.

  “Keeping the stats on the Red Sox,” Benny answered.

  “You keep stats on the other teams?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey, Eddie Wilson is coming up. I bet he hits a home run,” said Scott.

  “The odds against that are about 12 to 1,” Benny said. “But I will bet that he hits it to the right side of the field.”

  “Really?”

  “He hits it there about nine out of ten times.”

  Just then, Wilson lashed a line drive between the center fielder and right fielder for a triple.

  “See, what did I tell you?” said Benny. He made a quick mark in his notebook.

  “So what do you think we should do when Eddie comes to bat against us on Saturday?” Scott asked.

  “I’d say use the Williams shift,” Benny answered.

  “What’s that?”

  “That’s what Lou Boudreau used against Hall of Famer Ted Williams about sixty years ago.”

  “Lou Boudreau,” Scott remembered. “He was the player-coach you mentioned at the board meeting, wasn’t he?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, what’s the Williams shift?”

  Benny flipped over some pages in his notebook and began to draw a diagram of a baseball diamond. When he finished his drawing he tore out the page and handed it to Scott.

  “What if Eddie hits it to left field?” Scott asked.

  “He won’t.”

  “What if he sees what we’re doing and tries to hit to the left?”

  “He’ll be trying to do something he usually doesn’t do. That helps us.”

  “What if he bunts?”

  “Wouldn’t you like Eddie Wilson to bunt instead of trying to hit a home run?”

  Scott looked at the diagram for a while. “Can I keep this?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  Scott tucked the paper into his pocket and started to leave.

  “Thanks, Benny,” said Scott. “Listen, I’m sorry about telling Drew.”

  “You should be,” Benny said flatly. Then he went back to scribbling in his notebook.

  THIRTEEN

  Okay, last one, Fran, then bring it in,” Scott called out. He tossed the ball up and smacked a hard grounder to Fran at third base. Fran fielded it smoothly, fired the ball in to the catcher, and jogged off the field.

  Scott continued to hit grounders around the practice field. Each Tiger fielder gathered the ball in, threw to home plate, and jogged off the field. The last ball went to Benny in right field.

  “Come on, Benny, get the ball to Danny. Step into it,” Scott said.

  Benny charged in, scooped up the grounder, and threw it hard. The ball bounced twice before it reached Danny’s catcher’s mitt, but it got there. Danny flipped the ball to Scott.

  “Benny’s looking a lot better in the outfield,” Danny said as he watched Benny trot in toward home plate.

  Benny and Danny walked over to the circle of Tigers near the dugout.

  Scott quickly got down to business. “All right. Quiet. I’ve got the ball so I get to talk,” said Scott, holding the ball high over his head. “We’re playing the Red Sox tomorrow. We’ll finish with a winning record if we can beat them. I know they beat us bad before, but I think we’re a lot better now.”

  Drew motioned for the ball and Scott tossed it to him.

  “Can we go and let the air out of Eddie Wilson’s bike tires or something?” joked Drew. “He’s been killing us.”

  The team laughed as Scott caught the ball from Drew.

  “I think we’ve got a plan that might help.”

  Scott tossed the ball to Benny who was standing off to the side. “Tell the team about your plan, Benny,” Scott said.

  “Me?” asked Benny, almost dropping the ball.

  “Yeah, you came up with it,” said Scott.

  “All right,” said Benny, with the ball now firmly in his grip. “It’s pretty simple. Eddie’s a left-handed batter who pulls the ball. In fact, he hits the ball to the right side of the field about 90 percent of the time.”

  “How do you know that?” Nick asked.

  “I, uh, um, keep statistics on all the teams,” Benny said.

  “All the teams? What for?” Drew asked.

  “Quiet!” Fran shouted. “Benny’s got the ball. Let him finish.”

  Benny continued. “So I figured we should shift fielders over toward right field. We would only leave Fran at third and the left fielder on the left side, and even they would move way over.”

  “That’s crazy!” said Drew, looking around at his teammates. Most of them were nodding their heads and laughing.

  “It worked against Ted Williams,” Scott said. “And he was a Hall of Famer.”

  “What if Eddie hits to the left?” Drew asked.

  “He almost never does,” Scott said.

  “What if he bunts?” Drew asked.

  “Great! I’d rather him bunt than hit the ball out of the park!” said Scott as he and Benny exchanged smiles.

  “What if he does hit it out of the park?” Drew asked.

  “Then it won’t matter where we put the fielders,” Benny said. This time the team was laughing at Drew.

  “Come on, it’s worth a try,” Fran said. “We can’t do much worse. The Red Sox have been killing us!”

  “Yeah, come on. Let’s give it a shot,” Scott said. “The regular starters take the field. I’ll try to hit a few by you.”

  The Tigers trotted out to their positions. “Move back, Maggie,” said Scott, pointing with his bat. “And Drew, you should be a step or two to the right of second base. Fran, swing around to shortstop.”

  “Hey!” Drew shouted in from second base. “I’ve got an idea. Maybe we should switch the right and left fielder, so Max is playing right field against Eddie.”

  Scott knew that Max was their best outfielder. He looked at Benny on the sidelines. Benny nodded. “He’s right. The percentages are better with Max in right.”

  “All right,” Scott shouted. “Max play right. Sam play left in the shift.”

  After the shift was in place, Scott tried to smash a few shots past the bunched fielders. The Tigers gobbled them up with glee. After a while, Scott called an end to the practice.

  The kids wandered away from practice. But Drew hung around and helped Scott pick up the equipment.

  “What do you think of the shift?” Scott asked.

  “It seems okay,” Drew said with a shrug. Then he smiled. “But maybe we should put someone over the right field fence when Eddie comes to bat. That’s where the ball will be headed.”

  FOURTEEN

  Play ball!” the umpire shouted, pulling down his mask and motioning Scott to pitch.

  Scott turned to check his fielders. Then he fired a fastball to start the Tigers final game of the season.

  The Red Sox leadoff hitter topped a slow roller to third. Fran rushed in, scooped up the ball, and threw to first, all in one motion. One out.

  The second Red Sox batter popped a weak fly ball to center field. “I got it!” called Pete
r. Two outs.

  Eddie Wilson stepped to the plate. Scott held up his hands and called, “Time.” Turning to the fielders, Scott waved his teammates into their shift positions. Sam raced over to left field and Max dashed to right field. As Scott turned to face the star Red Sox slugger, Mr. Robinson, the Red Sox coach, charged out to the umpire. “Hey, ump,” he called out. “They can’t do that, can they? Bunching the kids together like that?”

  Scott joined the umpire and Mr. Robinson in front of home plate. “Well, coach,” the umpire said, holding his mask and scratching his head. “I don’t know. I can’t say as I’ve seen it before.”

  “It’s the Williams shift,” Scott said. “Lou Boudreau used it against Ted Williams about sixty years ago.”

  The umpire nodded. “I think he’s right. Teams today do something like it against some of the big hitters.”

  “Yeah, but they can’t change their left and right fielders, can they?” asked Mr. Robinson.

  The umpire pulled a notebook from his back pocket and thumbed through the pages. “I don’t see anything against it,” he said shaking his head. “The rule book just says that you gotta have at least three outfielders. And they got three outfielders. They’re in funny places but they are in the outfield.”

  Mr. Robinson stood with his hands on his hips for a long moment. Then he turned and walked back to the bench.

  “Play ball!” the umpire shouted.

  Scott stood on the mound and concentrated on pitching again. At the plate, Eddie Wilson eyed the Tigers fielders and looked confused.

  Scott threw the first pitch high. Ball one. Scott blazed the second pitch right down the middle, but Eddie let it go by. Strike!

  Scott put a little extra on the next pitch. Eddie Wilson swung and scorched a screaming line drive to right center field. Peter was standing in the perfect position; the ball landed smack in his glove.

  The shift had worked!

  The game settled into a surprisingly close struggle. The Red Sox scored a run in the top of the second inning, but the Tigers got the run back in the bottom of the third when Maggie scored on a double by Danny. So when Scott handed the ball to Drew to pitch the last three innings, the game was tied, 1–1.