This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2011 by David A. Kelly
Illustrations copyright © 2011 by Mark Meyers
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kelly, David A.
The Fenway foul-up / by David A. Kelly ; illustrated by Mark Meyers. — 1st ed.
p. cm. — (Ballpark mysteries ; #1)
“A Stepping Stone Book.”
Summary: Cousins Mike and Kate are at Boston’s Fenway Park when the Red Sox’s star hitter discovers that his lucky baseball bat has been stolen.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89816-7
[1. Baseball—Fiction. 2. Stealing—Fiction. 3. Cousins—Fiction. 4. Fenway Park (Boston, Mass.)—Fiction. 5. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Meyers, Mark, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.K2934Fe 2011 [Fic]—dc22 2010008521
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.1
To my parents, Kevin and Nancy, who show rather than tell when it comes to life.
—D.A.K.
To Kasidy—thanks for being my muse. —M.M.
“I don’t want to play golf. When I hit a ball, I want someone else to go chase it.”
—Rogers Hornsby
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1 The Green Monster
Chapter 2 The Batboy
Chapter 3 Sunflower Seeds
Chapter 4 The Secret Code
Chapter 5 The Experiment
Chapter 6 Big D at Bat
Chapter 7 A Clue
Chapter 8 A Sticky Situation
Chapter 9 The MVPs
Dugout Notes Fenway Park
Excerpt from The Pinstripe Ghost
The Green Monster
“Watch out!” Kate yelled.
Boston’s best batter, Big D, had just hit another rocket. The baseball was headed straight to the top of Fenway Park’s left-field wall, right where Kate Hopkins and her cousin Mike Walsh were standing.
“Yowza!” Mike ducked down as the ball sailed overhead. “That one is out of here!”
Mike and Kate watched it fly over the wall of the stadium toward the sunny city street below. They waited to hear the clunk of the ball hitting a car’s hood. Or shattering glass as it hit a windshield.
But all they heard was a loud thud and a soft thunk. No crunch. No smash of glass. No car alarms.
Mike scampered up to the railing that overlooked the street. The ball bounced against the wall of a parking garage. A little girl in yellow overalls chased the ball as it rolled down the sidewalk.
“Aww … why didn’t it land near us?” Mike asked. He pulled a worn tennis ball out of his fleece jacket and bounced it against the cement steps a few times. He carried a ball everywhere he went. “I’ve always wanted a real major-league baseball.”
“If Big D had hit it at you, it would have knocked your head off,” Kate answered. She took off her baseball cap and slipped her long brown ponytail through the hole in the back of the cap. “At least then you wouldn’t be able to think about baseball. It’s all you do.”
Mike couldn’t argue with that. He did spend a lot of time playing baseball. And talking about it. And watching it. Last year he even started a baseball website. That was why he was so excited to be at Fenway Park, watching batting practice.
Kate’s mom, Mrs. Hopkins, worked as a sports reporter for a popular website, American Sportz. She was covering that day’s baseball game between the Boston Red Sox and the Oakland A’s.
Kate lived with her mom in Cooperstown, New York. Mike lived down the block. His mom and Kate’s mom were sisters.
Mike, Kate, and Kate’s mom had left at seven that morning and driven to Boston. Mrs. Hopkins was in the pressroom, but Mike and Kate were using their special “All Access” passes to explore Fenway Park. They had started at the seats on top of Fenway’s giant left-field wall. The thirty-seven-foot-high wall was painted dark green and ran from left field to center field. It was known as the Green Monster.
Mike turned his attention back to the field. “Hey, watch the way Big D stands in the batter’s box.” Mike pointed to home plate. “He has an open stance. His back foot is closer to the plate than his front foot. It’s what gives him power to hit like that.”
Even from far away, Big D’s arm muscles stood out through his uniform. He was tall and strong and always had a big grin on his face. Big D was one of Boston’s most popular players.
“Do you see the bat he’s using?” Mike went on. It was a light-colored wooden bat with a dark green ring dividing the handle from the barrel of the bat. “It’s his good-luck charm, like a four-leaf clover. He calls it his Green Monster—just like the wall.”
Pow! Big D hit another ball out of the park. Across the field by the Boston dugout, a small group of fans cheered. They had come early for batting practice, too.
“Didn’t he try to use a bright green bat in a game once?” Kate asked. “What happened to it?”
Mike was the expert when it came to baseball. But Kate knew a lot about everything else. She read all the time—books, newspapers, websites, anything she could find.
“Yup, but it wasn’t allowed,” Mike told her. “According to the rules, bats have to be black, brown, or natural. So now Big D just uses a regular bat. But he still calls it the Green Monster.”
After he batted, Big D headed back to the dugout. The fans crowded the railing and chanted, “Big D, Big D, Big D!”
Big D leaned his bat against the low wall in front of the seats. He took off his hat and waved. The fans went wild. Many of them held out baseballs, hats, and other souvenirs for Big D.
Big D started signing autographs. A photographer trailed behind him, taking pictures. He carried a long black tripod case slung over his shoulder and a camera with a big lens.
“I knew we should have waited over there,” Mike said. “We could have gotten Big D’s autograph.”
“Maybe next time,” Kate said. “It’s cool that he’s signing so many.”
While Big D greeted the fans, Wally, the Red Sox’s big furry green mascot, came trotting down the first-base line toward home plate. He waved to the people near the dugout, but then he tripped and sprawled face-first on the grass.
The crowd roared with laughter while Wally wriggled on the ground. Big D and a batboy ran over to help Wally up. Wally took a small bow and gave the crowd a big wave—without falling over.
Big D patted Wally on the back and ducked into the dugout.
One Red Sox player after another practiced hitting. But Mike and Kate could tell that no one was as good as Big D. Soon, Boston finished batting practice. A batboy and batgirl came out to collect the bats.
“I’d love that job,” said Mike. “You’d get to meet all the players, watch the games, and get paid for it!”
The Oakland A’s took the field for their batting practice.
“Come on,” said Kat
e. “I told my mom we’d stop by the pressroom before the game starts. She’s going to give us some money for lunch.”
Kate and Mike found their way through the hallways lined with hot dog, ice cream, and peanut stands. They rode an elevator up to the fourth floor. After showing a security guard their passes, they entered the pressroom. The room had huge open windows facing the infield.
“Hi, kids,” Mrs. Hopkins said. She was sitting at a desk in front of a window. A few reporters sat on either side of her, working on computers or talking.
Mike went straight to the windows. “Wow! What a view,” he said. “You can see everything from here. It’s like you’re on top of the field!”
“It is pretty amazing,” said Mrs. Hopkins. “Sometimes foul balls get hit up here, so you have to pay attention.”
Just then, a telephone rang. Kate’s mother reached for it. But the reporter next to her answered it. He talked for a minute or so, and then hung up.
“You’ll never believe what just happened,” he said.
“What?” Mrs. Hopkins asked.
“Big D’s lucky bat has been stolen!”
The Batboy
“Stolen?” Mike asked.
“Yes,” the reporter said. “It’s been his favorite bat ever since he hit his four hundredth home run with it.”
“But we saw him with it just a little while ago,” Kate said.
“The security chief thinks someone took it after Red Sox batting practice,” said the reporter. “Big D was doing a TV interview in the locker room. Usually the batboy or batgirl picks up the bats after practice. But they couldn’t find Big D’s.”
“It’s probably worth a million dollars,” said Mike.
The reporter laughed. “Maybe not a million,” he said. “But I’m sure a private collector would pay an awful lot for it.”
A loud CRACK ripped through the ballpark. One of the players had hit a line drive. The ball flew straight into center field.
Mike turned to watch where it landed. A flash of blue caught his eye. “Hey, the police are down near the Boston dugout. Looks like they’re questioning that batboy,” he said. “I bet he stole the bat.”
The batboy was talking to two people dressed in blue. Mike could make out the word SECURITY on the back of their shirts.
“Oh, that’s just Bobby the batboy. He’s a nice kid,” the reporter said. “I doubt he stole Big D’s bat.”
“The ballpark security people are probably just interviewing witnesses,” Kate’s mom added. “I’m sure they’ll also check equipment bags and lockers for the bat.”
“I saw that batboy with all the bats earlier,” Mike said. “He seems kinda suspicious to me.”
“You think everyone’s suspicious, Mike,” said Kate. “But I still want to see what’s going on. Can we check it out, Mom?”
“Sure. Your seats are next to the dugout. I’ve got to stay here to work on my column.” Mrs. Hopkins handed Kate a twenty-dollar bill. “Don’t let Mike spend it all on souvenirs,” she joked.
Kate pocketed the money. As they were about to leave, the pressroom door opened and a man walked in.
It was the photographer from batting practice. He had his camera bag and tripod case slung over his shoulder. A water bottle poked out of one of the big pockets in his jacket.
“Just dropping off my tripod,” the photographer said. “You’re lucky you don’t have to lug all this gear around.”
He dropped the camera bag and tripod case to the carpet with a grunt. Then he rummaged around in one of his jacket pockets and pulled out a bag of sunflower seeds. He poured a few of the black and tan seeds into his mouth.
Mrs. Hopkins smiled. “Try lugging a computer, some reference books, and a pile of research papers around! That’s not easy, either,” she said.
“I guess everybody thinks their job is hard,” said the man. “It sure would be nice to be rich. Maybe I’ll win the lottery soon.”
The photographer slid the long black tripod case under a table and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Mike turned to watch the batboy talk to a security guard. The second security guard searched the sides of the field and the box where the photographers sat. Kate gave Mike’s arm a tug and pulled him toward the door.
“Thanks for the money, Mom,” Kate said. “We’ll catch you after the game.”
Ten minutes later, Mike and Kate were sitting in their seats, eating hot dogs and popcorn. They were only a few rows away from the Boston dugout. On the field, the Oakland A’s were still taking batting practice.
“Awesome seats, Kate!” Mike said. “Your mom got great tickets. I owe her a few car washes.”
“Great idea,” said Kate. “She’d love that.”
Swish! The Oakland player at the plate swung and missed.
“Hey, there’s the batboy,” said Mike. He shaded his eyes against the April sun and pointed at the dugout. “Doesn’t he seem a little old?”
The batboy wore a bright white Red Sox uniform and a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. He kept glancing back over his shoulder and scanning the stands.
“I read that you have to be at least fourteen to be a major-league batboy. He looks older,” Kate said.
She motioned for Mike to lean in close to her. “He does seem a little shifty,” she whispered. “Think we should try to ask him a few questions and see what he does?”
“Always thinking like a reporter, aren’t you?” said Mike.
“Well, you said he looked old,” Kate replied.
“I may be suspicious, but you’re nosy,” Mike teased.
“I’m not,” Kate said. “I just like to know what’s going on.”
She fished around in her popcorn for the most buttery pieces. Finding one, she popped it into her mouth. “What do you say?” Kate asked. She dug through the popcorn for another buttery piece. “Should we go talk to him?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” said Mike. “It seems like he might want to talk to us instead.”
Kate looked up from her popcorn. The batboy was staring straight at them!
For a moment, Kate was startled. Then she relaxed. She shook her head. “Actually, I think he’s watching that guy in front of us,” she said. “And I can see why. Doesn’t the guy know that the Yankees are Boston’s biggest rivals?”
The white-haired man sitting in front of Kate and Mike wore a New York Yankees baseball cap.
“But he’s also wearing a Red Sox shirt,” Mike said. “I guess he’s confused. Or maybe he just likes both teams.”
Out on the mound, one of Oakland’s coaches wound up and threw a fastball.
The batter swung at the pitch. POW! The ball flew into left field. Even the coach turned around to watch it. TONK! The ball bounced off the Green Monster.
“Awesome hit,” Mike said. “In any other ballpark that would have been a home run, but not here. You have to hit them really high to get over the Green Monster.”
“Yeah, it was a nice hit, but he’s not as good as Big D,” Kate said. “Big D blasted it over the Green Monster twice in batting practice.”
“But that was with his lucky bat,” Mike pointed out. “Who knows how he’ll hit without it. I bet if he doesn’t find it, the Red Sox will lose today’s game!”
Sunflower Seeds
“Look, Kate, the batboy is gone. Let’s check out the scene of the crime,” Mike said. He stood up.
“You can’t go down there,” Kate said. “It’s probably against the rules.” Kate wasn’t afraid to do something risky, but she needed a good reason. She didn’t like getting in trouble.
“Even if it is against the rules,” said Mike, “they’ll probably just tell us to go back to our seats.”
Mike started to edge through the row of seats toward the aisle. As he was walking, his elbow clipped the man in the Yankees cap.
“Hey, watch what you’re doing, kid!” the man said. He had taken off his hat and was rubbing his head. “You should be more careful. Now I’ve spilled my sunflower seeds.
”
Mike looked down. The ground near the man’s feet was covered with little black and tan seeds.
Kate shook her head and rolled her eyes. Mike was kind of clumsy.
Mike turned red. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I can get you another bag if you want.”
The man held up a white and red bag. “That’s okay,” he said. “There’s plenty left. Just try to keep your elbows to yourself from now on.”
“Sure,” said Mike. “I’m really sorry.”
The man put his Yankees cap back on. He tucked the bag of seeds into his pocket and started kicking the spilled sunflower seeds away.
Kate and Mike had reached the aisle when there was a whooshing sound followed by a loud clunk.
They whirled around to see the man pick up a long white plastic tube from the ground. On the side it said BIG D LIFE-SIZE POSTER. He must have knocked it over with his foot.
The man set the poster tube against his armrest. Then he noticed Kate and Mike watching him.
“I’m fine,” he said, shooing them away. “You can move along.” He frowned and examined the poster tube carefully. There was a dark smudge halfway up the tube. He rubbed it with his sleeve.
Kate grabbed Mike’s arm and pulled him down to the infield railing. It was almost game time. The seats and aisles were starting to get crowded with fans.
“I feel bad about bumping into that guy,” Mike said. “Did you see how worried he was that he knocked that tube over?”
“Maybe he’s embarrassed,” said Kate. “You don’t like it when people see you do something dumb, do you?”
“Actually, I wouldn’t know,” Mike said. “I never do anything dumb!”
“Oh yeah? What do you call bashing that poor man with your elbow? A smart move?” Kate teased.
Mike rubbed his elbow for a second. Kate was right—he was always knocking into things. His arms and legs sometimes seemed longer than he remembered.
“I can’t help it if his head was in the wrong place,” said Mike.
With one final line drive, batting practice ended. The players went back to their clubhouses to get ready for the game.
The Fenway Foul-up Page 1