“Whoa!” Chess yelled as he leapt and made the catch. “Take it easy, Zero! That one almost landed in your kitchen.”
Zero’s stomach did a flip-flop. He was afraid to look at Uncle Pete.
Uncle Pete came up beside him. “Zero, I know you can do better than that. Your mom told me you pitched a lot of good games for the Mudders last season. But if you’re going to throw that hard, you need to remember to move your pitching arm as smoothly as possible. Try to make it all one motion. And think about giving your wrist a snap at the end. That will give each throw a little extra power. Okay?”
Zero nodded, grateful for the advice. It sounded so simple.
Chess got in position. Zero stared at Chess’s big catcher’s glove. He threw, concentrating on making his motion smooth.
A strike!
Chess tossed the ball back and called, “A few more like that, Zero!”
Uncle Pete nodded. Zero glowed with happiness. That felt good!
Zero continued to pitch. All the while, Uncle Pete was yelling encouragement from the sidelines.
“Thataway, Zero! Blaze another one in there! Show ’em what you’re — ”
Uncle Pete stopped in mid-yell. At the same time, Chess gave a yelp and stood up. He stared in disbelief at the ball in his glove.
“Hey, man! Did you see that?” Chess cried.
Uncle Pete ran out to Zero’s side. Zero looked from one to the other, confused.
“See what?” he asked.
“That pitch!” Uncle Pete said in amazement. “You just threw a slider, Zero! I’ve never seen a kid throw one of those before! If you can do that again, you’ll be unstoppable on the mound!”
6
Zero couldn’t believe his ears. A slider? He knew what one was — a fast ball that curved sharply and suddenly in front of the batter — and he knew that it was almost impossible to hit. But had he really thrown one?
And could he throw one again? If he could, this could be his big break!
Uncle Pete and Chess wanted him to try again right away.
“Before you forget how you did it!” Chess joked.
Zero looked at the ball in his hand. His bandaged finger stuck straight out.
Maybe I threw that slider because of this bandage, Zero thought. I’ll bet that’s it! I’ve never had to hold the ball this way before.
Zero tried to forget that Uncle Pete and Chess were watching him. But when he threw the ball, he knew it wasn’t going right.
Chess had to scramble to make the catch. Zero flushed a deep red.
Then Uncle Pete called out, “Shake it off, Zero. Not all your pitches can be winners. Just relax and aim for Chess’s glove.”
Zero took a big breath. He concentrated on the target Chess held up. He threw.
Chess and Uncle Pete both whooped.
“That’s it! You did it again!” Chess yelled.
“Did what again?” a voice called from the driveway. The three ball players had been so intent on Zero’s throw that they hadn’t heard Mrs. Ford drive up.
“My nephew just happens to have a killer pitch,” Uncle Pete said proudly. He made a sliding gesture with his hand and grinned.
“Uncle Pete’s been helping me a lot, Mom,” Zero piped in.
Mrs. Ford grinned. “It sounds like we have cause for a celebration. Not only did I get off work early, but my son has a ‘killer pitch’!”
Fifteen minutes later, the four of them were sitting around the kitchen table slurping down ice-cold lemonade. They talked excitedly about Zero’s new pitch.
Uncle Pete really seems interested in helping me pitch better, Zero thought happily. I wonder —
Uncle Pete slammed his lemonade glass on the table and looked at the clock.
“Yikes!” he said, leaping to his feet. “I’m going to be late for a job interview if I don’t hurry up. I’ve got to stop spending so much time out on the field with you guys!” He put his glass in the sink and ran upstairs.
Zero watched him go with a heavy heart.
Just when I thought he was getting interested in me and the Mudders, he said to himself.
Chess interrupted his thoughts. “Your uncle’s great, Zero. What did he say when you asked him to sub in for Coach Parker?”
Zero looked quickly at his mother, wondering if she’d heard Chess’s question. But she was busy tidying up the kitchen.
“I — I haven’t had a chance to ask him yet,” Zero mumbled in reply.
“Well, he’d be great at it. Your pitching really improved while he was helping you out there. And I’ll bet he’d coach just to see you use that pitch!” Chess said.
Zero looked up. Chess was right! Uncle Pete was interested in the slider. Maybe that was the ticket to get him to take over for Coach Parker.
Then Chess added, “But how come you’ve never thrown that slider during a game? We sure could have used it against the Bearcats.”
“I’ve never been able to throw it before,” Zero admitted. He held up his bandaged finger. “I think I can now because of this.”
Chess blew out his cheeks. “But if you can only throw a slider with that on your finger, I guess you can’t use it during the game. You know how Coach Parker doesn’t like to put players with injuries in. Remember when Turtleneck was knocked out that time? Coach wouldn’t let him play until he was one hundred percent better. One look at that big bandage and he’s sure to bench you.”
Zero stared at Chess. He knew Chess was right. He’d have to prove to Coach that he was fine — but in order to do that, he’d have to take the bandage off his finger.
And he’d never been able to throw a slider without the bandage before. What if he couldn’t do it without it?
Without the slider, his chances of getting Uncle Pete to coach were almost nothing.
And the team was running out of time.
7
Wednesday afternoon shone bright and sunny. Zero arrived at the baseball field a little early for the Mudders’ game against the High Street Bunkers. But even so, someone was there before him. Chess was in the dugout organizing his catcher’s gear.
“Hey, Zero!” he called. Zero waved and jogged over to join him.
“Still got that bandage on, I see,” said Chess. “Are you going to tell the coach about the slider?”
That was the question Zero’d thought about all last night. He still didn’t know the answer. Luckily, more of the team showed up just then, so he didn’t have to answer Chess.
The stands started to fill with fans for both teams. Coach Parker called the Mudders together.
“Before I give the lineup, I should tell you I still haven’t found a substitute coach. If anyone has any ideas of someone to ask, I’d sure like to hear them.” Zero avoided the coach’s eyes. Coach sighed, then said, “Okay, we’ve still got a few days left. For now, here’s the lineup: First base, Turtleneck. Second base, Nicky. Bus, you take shortstop. Third base, T.V. Outfielders from left to right: Barry, José, and Alphie. Catcher, Rudy Calhoun. Sparrow, you’ll be on the mound. Chess, you be ready to sub in for Rudy in the fourth inning. And Zero — ” Coach stopped short. He was looking at Zero’s right hand. He frowned.
“What’s that, Zero?” he asked.
“I banged my finger up yesterday, Coach. I — I was going to tell you about it, but — ”
“No buts, Zero. You know the rule. But remember, just because you’ll be sitting on the bench doesn’t mean you can’t help your team out. I expect to hear you cheering for everyone loud and clear!”
“Yes, sir!” said Zero, nodding vigorously. He’d figured that he wasn’t going to start in today’s game, but he was disappointed he wasn’t going to be playing at all.
But it’s just as well, he thought. This way I can get the slider perfect before I use it in Friday’s game!
Just then he saw a familiar figure in the stands. Uncle Pete gave him a “thumbs up” sign, then made the sliding gesture with his arm.
Zero was surprised to see him there. He wave
d back weakly. Uncle Pete had made the time to come to the game. He was expecting to see Zero pitch the slider!
Zero felt about two feet tall when the Mudders took to the field. Then a voice called his name.
“Hey, Zero!” Zero looked up to see Chess standing in front of him. “Coach told me you could warm me up later on if you want. As long as you take it easy on that finger of yours.”
Zero nodded. Suddenly a thought struck him. If I can get the slider going while I’m warming Chess up, Uncle Pete is sure to notice! I bet he’ll come over to give me a few pointers, too. That’d be the perfect time to ask him about coaching next week!
With that happy thought in mind, Zero settled back to watch the game.
The Peach Street Mudders had first bats, and the fans greeted Barry McGee with a loud cheer as he stepped to the plate.
“Knock the cover off of it, Barry!” Zero yelled.
Barry didn’t, but he lambasted one out to center field. The Bunkers’ center fielder took two steps back and caught it for the first out.
Alec Frost, the Bunkers’ right-handed pitcher, had trouble getting one over to Turtleneck and walked him. Then José sent a streaker down to second that resulted in a double play, and the top half of the inning was over.
Sparrow pitched a few warm-ups to Rudy. Zero sneaked a quick look at Uncle Pete. Uncle Pete was watching Sparrow and clapping with the rest of the fans.
Zero felt a stab of jealousy. Then he shook it off, disgusted with himself.
I should be encouraging Sparrow as much as the fans are — more, since he’s my teammate! he thought. And besides, a good substitute coach would have to be interested in all the players, not just his nephew.
He took a deep breath and yelled, “C’mon, Sparrow! Strike ’em out!”
The Bunkers’ leadoff batter, Fuzzy McCormick, blasted Sparrow’s first pitch over short. He made it safely to first.
Sparrow struck out the next Bunker, but then the third batter made it to first on an error by T.V. Fuzzy McCormick advanced to second. Two men on, one out.
A pop-up that Nicky Chong caught was followed by a sizzling grounder that Sparrow fielded. The inning ended with the game still scoreless.
The next inning was as uneventful. Three Mudders took their turns in the batting box — only to turn around without having made it on base.
The first three Bunkers batters went down just as easily.
As the Bunkers took to the field at the beginning of the third inning, Chess tapped Zero on the shoulder.
“Want to go throw some to me?” he asked.
Zero nodded, grabbed his glove and a ball, and followed Chess out to the warm-up pen. Zero looked for Uncle Pete, but a big tree was blocking his view.
He and Chess tossed the ball back and forth for a while, warming up. Then Chess got into position.
“Let’s see that ‘killer pitch’!” Chess called.
Zero hesitated. He wanted to try the slider, but suddenly he wasn’t sure if he could remember how. What if Uncle Pete was watching — and the slider wasn’t working?
Then again, if it was working …
That decided it. Zero reared back and threw.
It worked! Chess thumped his glove in applause, then threw the ball back to Zero. But his throw was wild, and the ball rolled under the stands behind Zero.
Zero ran over to retrieve it. He picked up the ball and headed back toward Chess. As he did, he glanced over his shoulder to look for Uncle Pete.
The place where Uncle Pete had been sitting earlier was empty. Uncle Pete was nowhere to be seen.
Zero’s heart fell. His worst fears had just come true.
Uncle Pete doesn’t have time for our little baseball games, he thought. And he must think I can’t pitch the slider anymore. And maybe I won’t be able to once the bandage comes off.
Then what?
8
At the top of the fourth inning, Chess subbed in for Rudy. Zero returned to the dugout and watched the rest of the game. But his heart wasn’t really in it. Even when the Mudders came out on top in the end, the victory felt hollow to him.
After all, he thought, I didn’t contribute anything to this game. And it could be my fault that we forfeit the next three.
Zero started to head for home when Chess caught up to him. The two walked together in silence. Then Chess turned to him and asked, “Why didn’t you tell Coach Parker about your uncle when he asked for suggestions today? You did talk to your uncle about subbing, didn’t you?”
Zero shook his head miserably. “I — I don’t think he’d be interested, Chess,” he blurted. “He didn’t even stay for all of the game today! And when I take this stupid bandage off, he’ll probably lose interest in me altogether — because I bet I won’t be able to pitch the slider anymore!”
Chess looked at him, surprised at his outburst.
Then he said simply, “But Zero, you’ll never know unless you ask him. And you’ll never know about the slider until you take the bandage off.”
There was a note from his mother on the kitchen table, telling him not to eat too much because she was cooking a big celebration dinner.
Celebration for what? Zero wondered, mystified. I sure don’t have anything to celebrate.
Uncle Pete was nowhere to be found, so Zero couldn’t ask him about it. He wandered into his bedroom, picked up a book, and started leafing through the pages.
Suddenly he put the book down and looked at his finger.
The bandage was dirty and a little loose. Zero picked at it and thought about what Chess had said.
He knew Chess was right. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was afraid to ask his Uncle Pete — and afraid to take off the bandage.
I finally have a pitch that will knock the socks off any batter, but I won’t have a chance to use it in a game because of this stupid bandage. Or is it because of this stupid bandage that I have the pitch in the first place?
Zero picked at the wrapping a bit more. Then, with one sudden movement, he tore the whole thing off.
His finger was still a little bruised. It hurt a bit when he flexed it. But the more he moved it, the better it felt.
He walked into the hallway and picked up the phone. He dialed Chess’s number.
When Chess got on the line, Zero asked him to come over. Chess sounded surprised, but agreed. “Bring your glove,” said Zero, just before he hung up.
As good as his word, Chess showed up ten minutes later, mitt in hand. He looked quizzically at Zero.
“What’s up?” he asked. Zero held up his finger.
Chess whistled. “So that’s what this is all about! Okay, let’s see if that bandage really was the reason for your slider.”
Zero nodded. He picked up his glove and ball, and the two headed out to the backyard. They warmed up for a few minutes. Then Zero took a deep breath.
“I’m ready when you are, Chess,” he said.
Chess got into position. Zero stared at the target Chess held up. He concentrated on making his throw smooth and reminded himself to snap his wrist at the end. Then he reared back — and threw.
The pitch was good. But it wasn’t a slider.
Zero’s heart sank.
He’d lost it. And he was sure he’d lost his only hope of getting Uncle Pete to coach.
9
“That was only one pitch, Zero!” Chess called encouragingly. “Try again!”
Zero caught the ball and held it in his right hand for moment. All his fingers were curled around it.
Maybe if I try lifting my forefinger off the ball, the way it was when the bandage was on it, he thought hopefully.
But his next pitch was the same as the first. A good solid throw, but not a slider.
Again and again he tried. He pitched slow, easy ones. He pitched with all his might. He lifted his finger off the ball. He clamped all five around it.
But the slider wasn’t working.
Finally, he dropped the ball at his side. “I’ve lost it,” he
said quietly.
“I don’t know about that,” boomed a voice from behind him. “Looks to me like you’ve found something you’d lost.”
Zero whirled around. Uncle Pete was standing at the edge of the driveway, grinning. His mother was right beside him.
“Seems to me you’ve got your pitching arm back, Zero,” Uncle Pete continued. “How many strikes would you say he just threw, Chess?”
“So many I lost count,” Chess called back. He stood up and jogged to where Zero was standing. “I didn’t have to leap for any of those, Zero!”
“But I didn’t pitch one slider!” Zero argued.
“I’d take a lot of solid pitches in a row over one fancy pitch that sometimes works, any day!” replied Uncle Pete. Chess and Mrs. Ford nodded their agreement.
Zero was puzzled. Hadn’t they all been thrilled by his “killer pitch”? Why was it that they looked just as happy now that he’d lost it?
Uncle Pete threw an arm around Zero’s shoulder. “It’s like this, pal. You’ve got to have both feet on the ground before you can reach for the stars. Your fastball and slow ball are your ground, and that slider is the stars. Chances are you’ll find the slider again someday. But until then, you’ve got some good pitches that make you a valuable member of the Mudders.” Uncle Pete looked over at Mrs. Ford and smiled. “It’s kind of like the job I just got. It’s not for the big radio station I’d been reaching for. But it’s a good, solid job with dedicated people who will appreciate my skills as an announcer. And who knows? I could find myself working on one of those big radio shows soon enough!”
A light suddenly clicked on in Zero’s head. “The celebration dinner! It’s for you, right?”
“That’s right. I start work in about two weeks,” Uncle Pete replied.
Zero’s heart started to pound. Two weeks? he thought. I wonder if —
“Hey!” said Mrs. Ford, interrupting Zero’s thoughts. “I’m starving. Let’s get that table set for dinner! Chess, would you like to stay for dinner? It’s lasagna, and I’ve got a special dessert, too.”
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