The Team That Stopped Moving

by Matt Christopher

Eddie took a deep breath as he stepped into the batter’s box, exhaled it, and waited for the pitch. The first three floated by for a count of two balls and one strike. Then he swung, blasting a long, solid blow to deep left center field! Stan raced in, Andy and Dick trailing, and that was it. The Tigers had come from behind to win their second game, 12-11.

  Eddie was almost crushed by his teammates as they swarmed around him, picked him up, and carried him off the field.

  “Now I know what a big league baseball player feels like when he socks in the winning run in a crucial game!” He laughed as he and Dick walked home together.

  “And ours wasn’t even crucial!” said Dick.

  The Tigers’ next game was late Wednesday afternoon with the Wolves. Both Dick and Eddie spent most of the day with their parents at the circus that had come to town. The boys went to the baseball field afterward, expecting to see both teams already there and the fans filling up the bleachers.

  Instead, there were no teams, no fans. The place was empty.

  8

  A HORN beeped behind them. They looked around and Dick recognized Coach Steve Banks’ brown station wagon. With the coach was his wife, a blond woman Dick had met a few times.

  “Get in!” the coach called. “The game’s at the park!”

  The boys stared at each other, then ran to the station wagon and climbed in. A loose tail pipe rattled as the car took off up the street, the exhaust belching smoke.

  “I tried to call you a couple of times today,” the coach explained. “Where were you?”

  “At the circus,” Dick answered.

  “That’s what I thought. Well, both Jim Conley, the Wolves’ coach, and I decided to play the game at Beach Park,” Coach Banks went on. “Fortunately, the umpires liked the idea, too. Everybody’s bringing a dish to pass for a picnic afterward, and Grace and I have brought enough for you two. Sound okay?”

  “Sounds great!” Eddie exclaimed happily.

  Beach Park was alongside Swift River, an appropriate name for the fast-flowing river. It was wide and shallow, a paradise for fishermen and an adventure for canoeists. The sight of the river made Dick’s pulse tingle.

  “Can we go canoeing after the picnic, Coach?” he asked excitedly.

  “Well, I suppose so. If you’re experienced, that is.” The coach’s reflection in the rearview mirror cracked a smile at him.

  “Oh, I’m experienced!” he replied elatedly. “I’ve canoed dozens of times!”

  The baseball field was far enough away from the river so that even an exceptionally long drive wouldn’t be able to roll all the way to it. The picnic grounds were in the hilly woods beyond.

  Both teams took batting and infield practice. Then finally the umpires got the game under way. The Tigers had first raps, and right off Mark uncorked a hit that went for two bases. Ben popped out to short and Stan belted a single, scoring Mark. Both Andy and Dick flied out, and the Wolves came to bat.

  Pat Hammer, on the mound for the Tigers, got the first two Wolves out on four pitches. The third Wolf slammed a hard grounder down to third which Ben fumbled, scrambled for, caught, and then whipped to first base. The ball sailed high over Dick’s head and the Wolf dashed on to second. A sharp line drive directly at Stan ended the first inning.

  Eddie, leading off in the top of the second, cracked a shallow drive over second to start a scoring spree that went for four runs before the Wolves could stop the run-hungry Tigers. He flashed a warm smile at Dick as he pulled on his face mask.

  “Guess we’re rolling today, Dick,” he said.

  “It’s about time, isn’t it?” a voice answered from behind Dick. He turned to see Stan’s blue eyes pinned on him.

  Dick met them with a challenge. “You can’t expect us to win every game, Stan,” he said defiantly. “Anyway, we have a lot of fun, don’t we?”

  “Fun? What fun can you get out of playing if you don’t win?”

  “I get a lot of fun out of it, win or lose,” Eddie said.

  “So do I,” Dick said. “And I bet that the other guys do, too.”

  Stan’s eyes flitted from Dick to Eddie and back to Dick like Ping-Pong balls. “You make a pair,” he quipped. “Make sure that when you’re in those woods you keep out of the sight of squirrels.”

  Dick glared at his back as Stan ran out to his spot at short. “Punk,” he muttered to himself.

  The Wolves scored a run in the bottom of the second to put them on the board. Again the Tigers hit and brought home the mail, this time two runs to make the tally 7-1.

  The Wolves threatened again in the bottom of the third and again in the fourth. Finally, in the fifth inning, with the Tigers in the lead 9-1, the Wolves began to make an impression. They started to pound Pat Hammer’s pitches all over the lot. Two errors and five hits resulted in six Wolves crossing the plate before an out was made.

  With runners on second and third, a ball was hit high behind first base and Dick started to backtrack for it. He kept his eyes glued on the ball, which looked pale gray against the intense blue of the sky. He had a feeling, though, that he would never get under it to catch it.

  Suddenly, just as the ball was about thirty feet above him and dropping fast, it stopped. All sound ceased. All movement around him froze.

  “Okay, okay. Just relax, kid,” said a voice Dick recognized immediately. “You’re not holding your mitt right to catch that ball.”

  Dick stared at the familiar figure of Jack Wanda, the witch, or whatever he had seen in an earlier game.

  “Oh, hi, Mr. Wanda!” Dick greeted him nervously. “I was wondering if I’d ever see you again!”

  Jack Wanda’s smile wasn’t exactly pleasant. “Oh, you’ll see me again,” he said. “But not as often as you might wish. I can’t let you depend on me to help you out every time you get into a predicament, you know. You’ve got to learn to help yourself.”

  Dick blinked, suddenly apologetic. “Oh, I didn’t mean that, Mr. Wanda,” he said.

  “Call me Jack,” Jack Wanda said, some pleasantness coming into his smile.

  “I didn’t mean that — Jack,” Dick repeated softly.

  “I’m sure you didn’t, kid. But I had to tell you that, anyway. I have to tell that to all my protégés. They’re not all dependable, you know. Some are as helpless as little children. Thank goodness you’re one of the more independent ones. Well, let’s get down to business. Start backtracking as if that ball is coming down. Okay?”

  Dick did.

  “See that?” Jack Wanda pointed out. “You can’t possibly run backward fast enough to catch that fly even if you were the world’s backward running champion. Now, turn your back to the ball and run.”

  Dick did.

  “There, see that? You’re running three times as fast. One more thing. Keep your eyes on the ball. Get the idea?”

  Dick nodded. “Yes.”

  “Okay. Good luck, kid.”

  “Jack, wait!” Dick cried.

  But Jack Wanda was gone. Vanished. The next thing Dick knew he was under the ball that was dropping from the sky. Remembering Jack Wanda’s advice, he turned his back to it and sprinted as fast as he could, all the time looking over his shoulder and watching the sphere get larger and larger as it came nearer. At the last second he turned and caught it.

  A roar broke from the stands as he pegged the ball to second base, nabbing the runner who had not rushed back in time to tag up. Two outs.

  A ground ball to third ended the Wolves’ big-scoring inning.

  “What a play you made out there, Dick!” Eddie exclaimed as Dick plopped down on the bench beside him. “You kept two more runners from scoring!”

  Dick glanced at Eddie and winked. Eddie’s eyes widened, his mouth formed an O, and instantly Dick knew that Eddie understood. Neither said another word.

  The Tigers did nothing at the plate. The Wolves did, and went on to win, 10-9.

  9

  WELL, we blew that one,” Stan said irritably as the boys picked up their picnic b
askets from Coach Banks’ station wagon and a few other cars belonging to their parents and headed for the picnic grounds.

  “We were ahead most of the time,” Dick said defensively. “That’s something.”

  The players from both teams piled their food onto tables adjoining each other, and the few parents that attended sat and ate with their sons. Afterward they cleaned up the tables and stuffed the paper dishes and cups into garbage cans. Then most of the boys went hiking in the woods. Those who had brought their swimming trunks changed in the bathhouse and went swimming in a small bay of the river.

  Dick wanted desperately to take out a canoe, but didn’t enjoy going alone. Although canoes and rowboats were available at the park marina for a small sum, he was willing to pay the full cost.

  “Eddie, want to come canoeing with me?” he asked.

  Eddie thought about it a bit, then shrugged. “Really, Dick, I’d rather hike in the woods. Guess I’m just an old landlubber.”

  Dick smiled faintly, then saw Stan and Art look at each other. Stan would be the last person in the world Dick would invite to go canoeing with him. But, if Stan volunteered —

  “Do you know how to paddle a canoe?” Stan asked him.

  “Of course, I do,” Dick answered.

  Stan eyed him a moment. “Okay, we’ll go with you,” he said. “Do we have to wear life jackets?”

  “Bet your boots you do. They won’t let you take out a canoe without them. You really want to go? I’m not saying I’m an expert. I’ve been out a few times, that’s all.”

  “Young man, I thought you said you’ve been out a dozen times,” Coach Banks broke in.

  Dick shrugged, blushing. “Well, it’s been about that many,” he said.

  They started toward the marina. Suddenly Dick stopped dead in his tracks. His allowance! He remembered that he had been at the circus most of the day and had squandered most of it!

  Quickly he took a small coin purse out of his pocket, opened it and looked inside. There were barely half a dozen coins! Not enough to buy an ice cream sundae, let alone rent a canoe!

  “Well, I guess we won’t go canoeing,” he said gloomily. “I’m almost broke. I — I’m sorry, guys.”

  “Just a minute,” Coach Banks said. He took a bill from his pocket and handed it to him. “Don’t forget the change.”

  Surprised, pleased, overwhelmed — Dick accepted the money, while an expression of amusement came over the coach’s rawboned face.

  “Thanks, Coach!” Dick said, smiling brightly.

  He rented a boat, promising the marina owner that they would return it within half an hour. Then the boys each strapped on a life jacket.

  “The best way to paddle is on your knees,” Dick advised them as the boys freed one of the canoes tied up at the dock and pushed it into the water.

  Dick knelt in the stern of the canoe, Stan in the bow, each with a paddle. Art sat on the middle seat. They paddled out into the river, a fresh breeze blowing their hair across their faces.

  “Isn’t this just great?” Dick cried.

  “I love it!” Art exclaimed.

  For a moment there was no response from Stan, and Dick wondered why he volunteered to go canoeing if he knew he wouldn’t enjoy it.

  Finally Stan turned and looked over his shoulder. “Where are we going?”

  “Up the river,” Dick answered. “Then we can coast back on the current.”

  They headed up the river, the boat rocking gently as they steered it into the current.

  “Dick,” Stan said after they had covered about a quarter of a mile, “let’s hear about that dream you and Eddie have a thing about.”

  Dick’s hands froze on the paddle. He stared at Stan.

  “Oh, it’s no dream,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “It’s real.”

  Art glanced at him, interest glowing in his eyes. “Hey, tell us about it, man!”

  Dick shrugged. “Why not? Really, there wasn’t much to it. While we were playing baseball everything all at once stopped. And this guy with a red moustache and red goatee showed up.”

  “I see,” said Stan. “And he waved a magic wand and you caught the ball or whatever.”

  “Well, he didn’t have a magic wand, but he did tell me how to play the ball.”

  “Man!” Art exclaimed, shaking his head. “You’d win the prize for tall tales, old buddy!”

  “Sorry I asked,” Stan snorted.

  Neither one saw the amused smile that graced Dick’s face. I had a feeling they wouldn’t believe me, he thought.

  The trio entered a wide expanse of the river where the current seemed to be barely moving, then passed alongside a tiny island, the edge of which was blanketed white with sea gulls.

  “Wouldn’t it be fun to camp there?” suggested Art.

  They paddled on, passing within twenty feet of the rapids. Presently a growing apprehension took hold of Dick. The rapids were getting bigger and fiercer. As if Art’s mind were tuned in to his, Art looked around, his forehead creased with worry. “Don’t you think this is getting real rough, Dick?” he asked.

  “Right. Let’s head back.” Dick raised his voice. “Stan! Turn around and face this direction! We’ll head back for the marina!”

  He watched Stan rise carefully to his feet and turn around, then did likewise. But just as he settled down to kneel again, Art decided to change around, too. As he stood up the boat tilted. Then he let out a terror-stricken cry as the canoe started to capsize.

  A much louder yell followed from both Dick and Stan as all three toppled into the swift, rapid-charged river.

  10

  THE COLD WATER shocked Dick as he went under. Quickly he bounced to the surface, aided by his life jacket and his own struggling efforts.

  He spat out a mouthful of water, pushed his matted hair away from his face, and looked around for Stan and Art. Fright gripped him as he failed to see either of them in the moving mounds of the rapids.

  Then he heard a gasp. A second later he saw Stan bouncing in the water some ten feet away. Close by him was Art, his eyes wide and frightened, even though his life jacket was keeping him afloat.

  “Stan! Art!” Dick shouted. “Are you all right?”

  They stared at him, their hair plastered to their heads. “Yes! Are you?” Stan asked.

  “I’m okay!” he answered. He looked for the canoe and saw it heading down the river, bottom-side up.

  “What about the canoe?” Stan yelled.

  “Let it go!” Dick yelled back. “In these rapids we’d be in worse trouble if we tried to turn it over! Come on! Let’s head for shore!”

  The strong current carried them down the river as they started to swim toward shore. They gained by inches, and at last were close enough to shore to stand up and wade in the rest of the way.

  They stood on the pebble beach shivering. “I’m awfully sorry this happened,” Dick apologized. “It’s never happened to me before.”

  “Yeah,” Stan said, his lips quivering.

  Suddenly they heard the phut-phut sound of a motorboat, and looked downriver. A small outboard was speeding toward their overturned canoe. It soon reached the small boat, and one of the two men in it turned it right side up, then lifted it to spill out the water while the other man stood searching the river.

  The boys started to wave and shout. For a while it appeared that the man didn’t see or hear them. Then, at last, he spotted them and waved.

  “He sees us!” Stan cried triumphantly.

  The first man took a paddle with him into the canoe and started to row toward shore. The second man then gunned the motor of the outboard and shot upriver toward the boys.

  Moments later the trio were hauled out of the water and delivered back to the park, where a reception committee of Tigers, Wolves, coaches, umpires and parents grabbed and hugged them as if they had just returned from a harrowing experience on the moon.

  “Come on,” Coach Banks said as he ushered the boys ahead of him toward the picnic gro
unds. “Get to the bathhouse and out of those wet clothes.”

  “B-but we haven’t g-got any dry ones!” Dick stammered, shivering.

  “Three of the boys are going to keep on their trunks and let you borrow their clothes,” the coach explained.

  Ten minutes later they were showered, dried, and in the clothes lent by their teammates.

  “Now tell us what happened,” Coach Banks said as they sat around a glowing fire. The sun was setting, filling the sky with soft strokes of lavender and pink. The river looked like a rose garden of dancing lights.

  “Well,” said Art, “Dick wanted someone to go canoeing with him, so Stan and I went. Everything was fine until we started to come back. We thought that the water was too rough for us to go on. It was when Dick told us to turn around in the canoe that the boat tipped over.”

  Dick’s heart jumped. “Art! You’re making it sound as though it was my fault that the canoe tipped!”

  “Whose idea was it to go into the rapids in the first place?” Coach Banks asked.

  “Dick’s,” Stan answered without hesitation.

  Dick’s face flushed up. He bounced to his feet and glued his eyes on the coach. “Coach Banks,” he snapped hotly, “when are we going home?”

  The coach looked at Stan and Art, then at Dick. “In a minute,” he said.

  11

  THE TIGERS played the Lions on Monday. It was the first time since the picnic that Dick had seen Coach Banks.

  “Here’s your change, Coach,” he said, handing him the change from the bill the coach had let him borrow last Wednesday. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of it before.”

  The corners of Coach Banks’ eyes crinkled as he accepted the money. “Oh — thanks. Can you believe it? I haven’t slept a wink worrying about whether I’d ever get that change back?”

  Dick laughed.

  He played a satisfying game, knocking out two hits that accounted for three runs. He had made an error on one of Stan’s throws, but nothing serious happened because of it. The Tigers won, 13-10.

  “I didn’t tell you that during our canoe ride Stan and Art asked me about my dream,” Dick said to Eddie as they arrived home from the ball game.