Shortstop from Tokyo

by Matt Christopher

  He slashed at the first pitch and missed it. “Strike!” yelled the ump.

  He ticked the next pitch. “Strike two!”

  His heart pounded furiously as the third pitch came in. It was high, but he had already started to swing arid couldn’t stop now. He missed the ball by six inches.

  “Strike three!”

  “C’mon, Stoge!” cried Bob Sobus cheerlessly. “That pitch was a mile high!”

  Jim Albanese grounded out and Bob flied out to end the half inning. In the top of the next, the Mohawks held the Patriots scoreless, then picked up two runs in their half of the second to make the score 4 to 2.

  In the top of the third the first Patriot lined a smashing drive down to Stogie. Stogie’s heart shot to his throat as he waited for it. His nerves were tight and he expected to muff the ball. He did! The ball struck the thumb of his glove, glanced against his right leg and skittered behind him. He fell backward as he tried to spin on his heel, then got up and started after the ball. But Fuzzy was picking it up.

  “Got troubles, Stoge?” he asked with a deadpan face.

  “You can say that again,” replied Stogie. “But don’t.”

  Tom wiped out the next hitter with a strikeout. The next Patriot flied out to first. A clean single advanced the runner to third, but Tom worked hard on the next man and the Patriot popped up to Tony Francis.

  The Mohawks picked up a run at their turn at bat. Then the Patriots got on to Tom for two runs in the fourth and three in the fifth, while the Mohawks scored only once in each of those innings. Sam had taken Stogie’s place in the top of the fourth, belting out a single. In the bottom of the sixth he knocked out a double, the only player to hit that inning, to give himself two for two in the three innings he had played.

  The Patriots won, 9 to 5. And Stogie feared he was going to lose his starting position at short to Sam Suzuki for sure.

  7

  THE BUNNINGERS had a new window installed the following day. Stogie went over and paid for the bill out of his allowance and later got a third of the cost from Beak.

  “Sam pay you yet?” asked Beak.

  “No. And I won’t ask him,” replied Stogie.

  “Why not? He said he’d pay his share.”

  “I know he did. But I’m not going to ask him for it. For crying out loud, Beak, I told you! I feel responsible for what happened to his glove. I can’t ask him to pay for his share of the window.”

  “Okay. I know how you feel, Stoge. Guess I’d feel the same way if I were in your shoes.”

  Stogie was in for a surprise when he arrived at the field that evening with Beak and Jim Albanese. “I want you to play second base today, Stogie,” advised the coach. “I’ve an idea that you and Sam will make a terrific combination round the keystone sack.”

  Stogie’s cheeks puffed up like a bun. How do you like that? It had happened, just as he knew it would. Sam Suzuki had taken over short.

  Hurt flickered in his eyes as he stared at the coach. “That’s not fair, Coach!” he cried. “I’m the regular shortstop! Why don’t you put Sam on second?”

  The coach stared back at him. “Because I’m asking you to play there, Stogie,” he answered firmly.

  “But he’s new. And I’ve been on the team —”

  “He’s always played shortstop, Stogie,” Coach Dirkus interrupted quietly. “He loves it there.”

  “But I do, too!”

  “It’s different with you, Stogie. You’re going to be with us a long time. Sam isn’t. He might be here only a year. Maybe two. There’s no harm in letting him play the position he knows best.”

  “I know shortstop best, too! I played only a little at second! When I started!”

  It was hard fighting back the tears. Hard keeping that lump from crawling up to his throat.

  “Well, you played a little, at least,” replied Coach Dirkus. “You shouldn’t have trouble adapting yourself to second.”

  “I’m not going to adapt myself to anything!” exploded Stogie. The words popped from his mouth without his even thinking. He blushed and stood riveted to the ground, staring at a blade of grass quivering in the wind.

  “Okay, Stogie.” Coach Dirkus took a deep breath and let it out. “Guess I have to remind you that my job isn’t just making up lineups and knocking out grounders and flies. My job is to keep control of the team, too.”

  And then came the bomb.

  “I think a little bench warming will do you good, Stogie.”

  Stogie’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “You heard me. You can sit for a while and remind yourself that what a coach says goes, regardless of whether you like it or not. Dennis!” Coach Dirkus raised his voice sharply. “Take second!”

  Dennis Krupa, the infield sub, looked in surprise from Stogie to the coach. “Okay, Coach,” he said.

  Stogie tightened his lips and held his breath for a dozen seconds. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t. Shortstop was his position. More grounders were hit there than to second. There were more right-hand batters, that was why. And that long throw from deep short to first base could only be matched by a throw from third. He loved to make those long throws. He could throw as hard as he wanted to, put all his steam in it, and then watch the ball speed across the diamond into the first baseman’s mitt. No other position in the infield was more beautiful to him. That was what Coach Dirkus had taken away from him and given to Sam Suzuki.

  He noticed something on the field. Sam was playing catch with Fuzzy Caliel. Playing with a brand-new glove!

  That meant that the old glove wasn’t really good enough to play with. Stogie caught Sam’s eyes a second and looked away. The old feeling came back.

  How can I change his mind and prove to him that I’m not all to blame for what happened to his glove? he asked himself. Sure, I could have taken it into the house, but how could I know something would get it and ruin it in our own backyard? Man, what a lousy spot to be in!

  The lineup today in the game against the Dukes was different in more ways than one.

  Jim Albanese lf

  Lee Cragg cf

  Sam Suzuki ss

  Fuzzy Caliel 3b

  Dennis Krupa 2b

  Bob Sobus lb

  Daren Holden rf

  Tony Francis c

  Stretch Servo p

  As the Mohawks ran onto the field Sam stared across at Dennis, then at Stogie on the bench. Even from the bench Stogie could see the surprised look on Sam’s face.

  The chatter started in the Mohawk infield. It grew loudest at short. Sam Suzuki was a real live wire. You’d never guess he was so upset about his glove. No one would know. No one except him — and Stogie.

  A smashing drive down to short! Sam caught the big hop, rifled it to first. Out!

  “The old arm!” shouted Fuzzy as the ball zipped around the horn.

  Crack! A reeling drive to second! Dennis moved to his left, bent forward, reached for the hop. Missed it! The ball rolled out to right field, where Daren Holden scooped it up and pegged it in.

  I would’ve had that, reflected Stogie.

  Stretch worked on the next hitter and got a three-two count on him. Then, smack! A hot grounder shooting between short and second! Sam bolted after it, caught it, snapped it to second. The ball struck the tips of Dennis’s glove and bounced toward first. Both runners were safe.

  Sam looked at Dennis, Dennis at Sam.

  “My fault,” Stogie heard Sam’s apology.

  Stretch was unable to throw a strike on the next batter and walked him.

  “Bases crammed, Mike!” yelled a Duke fan. “Wipe it clean, boy!”

  Mike almost did. He knocked a double, scoring two runs. Then a Duke popped out to first and another grounded out to third, ending the top of the first inning.

  “You boys look a little nervous out there,” observed the coach to Sam and Dennis. “Take it easy. Get behind the ball and make sure of your throws.”

  Jim walked and Lee Cragg advanced him to second on a sacrifice
bunt. Sam Suzuki, up next, waved the bat around as if it were a toothpick. He took two strikes, then two balls, then laced a grounder down to third. The throw beat him by a step.

  “Runs like a cat,” said Bob Sobus.

  Fuzzy walloped a straight-as-a-string liner over second for two bases, scoring Jim. Dennis was up next. He took a called strike, then blasted a low pitch high over the infield. He was almost at first base when the Dukes’ third baseman caught it. Three outs.

  A slow bouncer to third earned a hit for the Dukes’ lead-off batter. The next smashed a grounder to Dennis’s left side. Dennis raced behind it, stuck out his glove and speared it. He spun on his heel and pegged it to second to get the double play.

  A wild throw! Sam leaped off the bag after the ball. But instead of returning to it to get the runner out, he heaved the ball to first!

  “Out!” yelled the base umpire.

  The fans roared and screamed.

  “Nice play, Sam,” said Stretch.

  Sam grinned. “Thank you,” he said.

  It was a nice play, Stogie had to admit. It was terrific. If he were in Sam’s place he doubted that he would’ve thought to throw the ball to first. He would’ve tried for the putout on second base and would’ve failed. Sam wasn’t only a player. He was a thinker too.

  A triple scored the man on second, who would’ve been out if Dennis had made his double play throw good. That was all. The Mohawks came to bat trailing, 3 to 1.

  8

  BOB SOBUS took a called strike, then laced a high pitch to center field. The Duke caught it easily. Daren walked. Tony Francis, sweaty dirt streaking the sides of his face, punched a grounder to Toots Martin, the Duke pitcher. Toots snapped it to second. It went from there to first for a neat double play.

  The Dukes’ first batter socked a bouncing grounder to second. Stogie knew he could’ve caught it in his hip pocket. Dennis fielded it and threw the man out, getting a mixture of applause and laughter from the crowd.

  A strikeout and a fly to left field retired the Dukes. Stretch, leading off for the Mohawks, laid into the first pitch and sent it bouncing between right and center for a double. Jim Albanese singled to score him. Then Lee Cragg flied out and Sam Suzuki, going after a low pitch on the third strike, struck out.

  Well! thought Stogie. Guess he misses ’em, too.

  Fuzzy Caliel banged the tip of his bat against the plate a couple of times, took a ball, then connected solidly with a letter-high pitch. The ball kept going … going … going …

  It was a home run!

  “Okay, Dennis! Keep the ol’ ball rolling!”

  Toots Martin had trouble getting a pitch over and Dennis won a free ticket to first. Bob Sobus, after fouling three straight pitches, popped up to Toots, ending the three-run rally. The Mohawks led, 4 to 3.

  Top of the fourth. Stretch fanned the lead-off hitter, then got two strikes and three balls on the next. The Duke laced the sixth pitch down to Dennis’s right side. Dennis charged after it, caught it, then turned to make the peg to first. His foot slipped and down he went.

  “Tough luck, Den,” said Stretch.

  Jim muffed a fly ball in deep left field. By the time he relayed it in, runners were safely on second and third. The next Duke powdered a high pitch over short, scoring both runners. A pop fly was caught for the second out. Stretch walked the next man. Then a hard single scored the Dukes’ third run of the inning. Sam Suzuki’s spearing catch of a line drive that seemed out of his reach for a second ended the Dukes’ hot rally. Dukes 6, Mohawks 4.

  “Some changes this inning,” announced Coach Dirkus.

  Stogie waited tensely. Would the coach forgive him and let him play now? Darn it, he didn’t mean to pop off.

  “Russ, bat for Daren. Beak, bat for Tony.” His eyes passed over the members on the bench, including Stogie. That was it. No more changes. Stogie’s heart sank.

  Russ started off with a single. Then Beak singled, and Stogie, forgetting his troubles for a minute, grinned at his buddy standing with both feet firmly on first. Beak wanted to catch badly. But he just didn’t have the arm that Tony had.

  Stretch lambasted a pitch out to left. It was too high and not deep enough. The Duke outfielder made the catch easily. Jim Albanese, pulling on his helmet as he strode to the plate, got the long count, three and two, then smashed a liner over short. The hit went for two bases, scoring both Russ and Beak.

  “Thataway, Jim!” shouted the Mohawk bench as every guy stood up and clapped. “Keep it going, Bernie! Another bingle!”

  Bernie Drake, batting for Lee, bowed his head sadly as he turned away from the plate, a strikeout victim. Sam Suzuki waited out the pitches, then laced a belt-high, three-two pitch to deep left center, scoring Jim. He raced around the bases as if a bear were after him, and the coach held him up at third.

  “He runs like a rabbit and hits farther than any kid his size I’ve ever seen,” said Dennis.

  “How come he’s got a new glove?” observed Daren Holden.

  Stogie listened intently, wondering if Sam had told anyone else about his ruined glove.

  “I don’t know. He just says the old one’s not good anymore and he wanted to get a new one.”

  Stogie swallowed and relaxed. Very few guys would keep a secret about a matter like that. You had to admit it — Sam was a great kid. I don’t know, he thought. In spite of what Sam thinks of me, I can’t help but like him.

  Fuzzy flied out, ending the Mohawks’ second three-run rally.

  The Dukes failed to put a man on first in the top of the fifth. Dennis, leading off for the Mohawks, socked a high-bouncing grounder over Toots Martin’s head for a single. Bob Sobus cut hard at a high pitch, but the ball skipped down toward third, was picked up by the third baseman and pegged to first. The throw was late. Dennis took advantage of the peg and raced to third.

  Russ knocked a high fly to center field and Dennis, tagging up, bolted for home. “Hit the dirt, Den!” Beak shouted. “Hit it!”

  Dennis hit it, but not in time. The relay from the outfield was almost perfect and Dennis was out by a yard. Beak popped up to first to end the fifth inning.

  The Dukes got a man on first in the top of the sixth, but that’s as far as he went. The Mohawks took the game, 7 to 6.

  Stogie slid off the bench, thinking hard. A couple of the guys were helping Coach Dirkus put the catching equipment and batting helmets into the canvas bag. Stogie walked up beside him.

  “Coach,” he said softly, “I’m sorry.”

  Coach Dirkus looked at him and grinned. “I figured you’d come around, Stogie. Sorry I didn’t let you play, but I had to show you that the coach is still boss of his team.”

  Stogie nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “See you at the next game, Stogie.”

  “Okay.”

  He started away when he saw a kid in uniform break away from a group of guys and come toward him. “Stogie,” the kid called.

  It was Sam Suzuki.

  Stogie didn’t know whether to wait for him or ignore him. He waited. “Yeah?”

  “It was my fault you did not play. Right?”

  Stogie’s lips felt like cardboard. “Forget it,” he said.

  “Not easy to forget it,” Sam replied.

  “Well — try.” Stogie started away, not knowing what else he could say.

  “Stogie,” Sam called quietly.

  Stogie halted and looked directly into Sam’s eyes. “Yeah, what?”

  “Better I do not play anymore. Right? Better I quit.”

  Raw anger swept through Stogie in a wave. “No! It isn’t better!” he shouted. “That would make everything worse! The guys would blame me for your quitting, just like you’re blaming me for ruining your glove! And I didn’t! You still think I did, don’t you?”

  Sam lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug. “I — I do not know, Stogie.”

  “What can I do to make you believe me?” Stogie cried. Then he turned and ran, catching up with Beak and Jill and his mother and
father, who had already reached the sidewalk.

  “What happened?” asked Jill wonderingly. “You didn’t play at all.”

  Stogie swallowed and caught his breath. “I popped off to the coach.”

  “Popped off?” Jill’s eyes turned big and round. “Why?”

  “Because he wanted me to play second base. You saw Sam Suzuki at short, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but —”

  “Never mind, Jill,” interrupted Mr. Crane. “Stogie will have to let that reprimanding cool off. I suspected it was something like that when I saw Sam run out to short and Dennis to second.” He paused. “Beak, you came through nicely.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Crane.”

  For a talkative guy Beak Peters was pretty quiet the rest of the way home. Guess even the hit wasn’t enough to outweigh the despair he shared with his pal Stogie.

  9

  BEAK came over the next afternoon. He handed Stogie a one-dollar bill and some change.

  “That’s from Sam Suzuki,” explained Beak. “His share for breaking the Bunningers’ window.”

  Stogie frowned. “You told him I paid for it?”

  “I had to. He asked me.”

  A small volcano began to form in Stogie’s stomach. Quickly he took the money inside and laid it on the dresser in his room. He took his time going back out to the porch.

  “Sam told me he’s going to New York City with his parents today,” said Beak. “His father has some business to do there on Monday.”

  “Will they be back by Tuesday?”

  The Mohawks were tangling with the Rainbows on Tuesday, and chances were good that Fats Cornell would hurl for the Rainbows. He was tough, one of the toughest in the league.

  “I don’t know,” replied Beak. “I sure hope so. Without him we …” He broke off and looked sheepishly at Stogie. “He is pretty good, Stoge. You know that.”

  “Of course I know. And I know you were going to say that without him we might lose. Don’t forget, we had a pretty good team before he came around, too.”