Double Play at Short

by Matt Christopher

  Copyright

  Copyright © 1995 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

  Hachette Book Group

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  New York, NY 10017

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  Little, Brown Books for Young Readers is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  First eBook Edition: December 2009

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Matt Christopher® is a registered trademark of Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.

  ISBN: 978-0-316-09479-5

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Matt Christopher®

  THE #1 SPORTS SERIES FOR KIDS: MATT CHRISTOPHER®

  To

  Bruce

  and

  Ann

  1

  Thwap!

  The ball settled solidly in the cup of Danny Walker’s well-oiled glove.

  “Lucky!” called out Joel Jackson, his best buddy and the Bullets’ center fielder.

  “Nah, just talented,” said Danny with a big smile. He pegged the ball over to Frankie Snow, the Bullets’ relief infielder, then gazed around the field. All his teammates were keyed up, but he was relaxed.

  He could afford to be. Danny Walker was a natural — on the field as well as at bat.

  As the Bullets continued their warm-up, he felt great. Today was the first game in their five-game championship series against the Jaguars. That alone made the warm-up more intense than usual. Add to that the fact that the players’ stats for this series would help determine who’d be chosen for the county All-Star team, and you got a pressure-filled situation.

  Baseballs whizzed from player to player in every direction. A few got dropped. Sometimes a player even got bopped accidentally by a teammate.

  But Danny was always on the alert. His muscles were poised and ready to respond to any ball that came in his direction.

  “Way to go, Danny,” called his friend Joanne Bell, the Bullets’ first baseman, as he scooped up another one of Joel’s throws.

  Danny spun around and hurled the ball in her direction. Joanne stretched forward and snagged the ball in the elongated cup of her trapper’s mitt. She was really sharp at first base.

  But not as consistent as Danny was at shortstop. He seemed made for the position. He stood about five feet, four inches high, and he was solid, without an ounce of fat. With his strong arms and legs, he could get low to the ground or leap high into the air. Whatever it took to get the ball or stop the runner between second and third, Danny was right there. He even wore his wavy, dark auburn hair cut short so it wouldn’t flop in his eyes and get in his way.

  Danny was the Bullets’ top hitter. He had more hits and runs batted in than any other player on the team. And he was just as valuable on the field. The combination of hitting and fielding made him an almost sure pick for the county All-Star team.

  The umpire’s whistle blew. It was time for the game to begin. Danny tossed one more ball over to the Bullets’ third baseman, Mike Worsley, then headed toward the dugout. He lined up with the rest of the Bullets as the scratchy sound of “The Star-Spangled Banner” poured out of the loudspeakers.

  “Play ball!” the ump shouted when the music stopped.

  The Bullets were first at bat. Vern Labar, their second baseman, jogged over to the plate. Danny moved to the far side of the dugout. He leaned on one knee and watched Vern crouch down into his batting position.

  The first pitch was high. Vern wisely let it go by.

  The next one was down the middle. Vern swung at it and missed.

  Then, with the count at 1 and 1, the pitcher released one that was a little bit inside, just the way Vern liked them. He swung at it and connected. The ball went sizzling by the pitcher’s mound and took a high bounce. It looked as though it would squeeze through the hole just to the left of second base.

  But the Jaguars’ shortstop was too fast. A streak of white with green edges, she snagged the ball in her outstretched glove and pulled it in. Danny could see her auburn ponytail flying behind her cap as she quickly pegged the ball to first base for the out.

  Boy, she’s fast on her feet, he thought. He made a mental note to keep the ball away from the general vicinity of shortstop.

  Unlike some kids, who studied every statistic about every game and memorized scores and standings, Danny’s great interest in baseball had always been right on the diamond. He knew who was who in the league and where the Bullets stood in terms of games ahead or behind, but he didn’t spend a whole lot of time analyzing those things. He sized up the opposing team right off during a game, then let his intuition take over. After all, relying on his instincts made him a sharp infielder. That, and his strong batting average, made him a real asset to any team — including the All-Stars, he hoped.

  Elaine Norbert, the Bullets’ right fielder, was up next. She was tall and skinny, and the Bullets’ uniform, white and blue trim, made her seem even taller. She looked as though the gentlest little breeze could knock her over. But somehow or other, Elaine sure had a way of scaring pitchers. Instead of taking advantage of the big strike zone, they ended up handing her the ball on a silver platter.

  Danny flopped down on the bench to watch the action from a different area of the dugout. As usual, he just couldn’t sit still now that the game had started. “Antsy,” his dad called him. “You’ve got ants in your pants, Danny,” he’d say.

  The first pitch to Elaine was so low, it almost raised up the dust in front of the plate. Danny smiled to himself as he saw Elaine scowl at Andy Hooten, the Jaguars’ pitcher.

  “Looks like Elaine’s starting to work him over right away,” said Joel Jackson, seated next to Danny on the bench. “I don’t know how she does it.”

  “She just acts tough. And they fall for it,” said Danny.

  “Hey, whatever works,” said Joel.

  It didn’t surprise either boy that the second pitch was right where Elaine wanted it — straight down the middle.

  Her bat connected solidly, and the ball took off over the second baseman’s head and into the grass. The right fielder came running in and stopped it from going farther. He threw to first, but Elaine was already on base, tucking her hair under her blue cap.

  Good, thought Danny. That means we have a chance of scoring a run right off in the first inning. And there’s a chance I’ll get to bat, too. I hope I can add another hit to my stats. Every little bit helps!

  Next up for the Bullets was Mike Worsley, the team’s third baseman.

  “Come on, Mike,” Danny shouted. “Drive her home!”

  He said the words, but deep down he didn’t really think much of Elaine’s chance of crossing the plate. Mike was a terrific fielder, but his hitting had fallen off lately and he was clearly in a slump. Mike had struck out three times in the last pre-series game the Bullets had played
just last week.

  This time, he surprised everyone. He connected solidly on the third pitch. For a moment it looked as though the ball would go over the fence for a home run. Then, suddenly, it dropped — right into the mitt of the Jaguars’ left fielder, Wally Mills. Wally pegged it to second, but he was too late. Elaine slid safely under the second baseman’s glove.

  Danny noticed that the Jaguars’ shortstop had covered the play just right. She was in a position, all set to make the tag, in case Elaine tried to go farther.

  In fact, he found that he was watching the shortstop position almost more than the action at the plate. Ken Hunter, the Bullets’ left fielder, took his turn at bat. Ken was a little short for a twelve-year-old and crouched in at the plate real tight. That didn’t give pitchers much of strike zone to go for. It usually made for some tricky calls by the ump, too.

  The first pitch was much too high. Ball one.

  The next pitch surprised everyone. A meatball right down the middle, it went for a called strike. Ken stepped back from the plate, rubbed his hands on his chunky thighs, then moved back into position.

  Crouched on one knee in the on-deck circle, Danny sent his teammate a silent signal. Pay attention, buddy. Eyes sharp.

  It seemed like Ken picked up on his message. He swung at the next pitch and hit a long, long, long, high fly ball — that fell just outside the third base line. Foul!

  ‘The Jaguars’ third baseman chased after the ball, which had landed midway between him and left field. For a moment, it had looked as though Elaine might try to advance to third. But the Jaguars’ shortstop had put an end to any such idea. She was right there, covering the position, glove extended for any throw that might come her way.

  With a 1 and 2 count, the Jaguars had a shot at retiring the Bullets right then and there. But they missed their chance. As Ken hunkered down at the plate, the next three pitches were all over the place. The ump called them, and Ken got a walk. He dropped his bat and trotted down the line to first base.

  Two runners on base. As Danny came up to bat, he knew that he had a good chance to put the Bullets on the scoreboard. That would give the team a great psychological advantage for the whole series.

  “Come on, Danny!” he heard a voice cheer from the stands. He recognized the sound of his older sister, Jennifer. Although she was all wrapped up with her work as the editor of the school newspaper, she still tried to make as many of his games as possible.

  Both Danny and Jennifer had been adopted when they were infants. But they were as close as any biological brother and sister. In fact, Mrs. Walker used to joke with them and say, “If I knew that you kids would turn out so well, we would have put in for a dozen just like you.”

  But Danny wasn’t thinking about that now. He scuffled his toe in the dirt next to the plate, hefted the bat into position over his left shoulder, and gazed out into the field. He knew some pitchers had trouble throwing to lefties — and since Danny fielded righty, they usually weren’t prepared for him to take a left-handed stance.

  But today was different. The pitcher didn’t even hesitate.

  “Strike!”

  Danny scowled and stepped out of the batter’s box. He eyed the pitcher but shifted his gaze slightly to the left when a blaze of red hair caught his attention. Even though Danny wasn’t in the box, the Jaguars’ shortstop was hunkered down in position. She shifted from one foot to the other, her ponytail swinging out behind her. She looked ready for anything.

  For some reason, she made Danny uneasy.

  “Play ball!”

  Danny started at the umpire’s call. It wasn’t like him to let his mind wander during a game.

  Hey, take your own advice, Walker, he said to himself. Pay attention! He moved back to the plate and gripped the bat. He was ready.

  The ball was coming straight toward him. He had just enough time to respond to what looked like his kind of pitch. Instinct took over.

  Danny swung hard.

  At first, it felt like a solid hit coming off his bat. But there wasn’t that zing of tension, that snapping crack that signaled the long ball he wanted to send over the fence. Instead, this hit was much too high and much too close to home plate. It was an easy pick for Drew Ferris, the Jaguars’ catcher, who bagged it for the Bullets’ third and final out.

  2

  Danny shook his head as he grabbed his mitt and headed out for the diamond.

  “You’ll get ‘im next time,” said Elaine. She gave him a playful poke and ran off toward right field.

  “Thanks, slugger,” Danny said. He was disappointed that he hadn’t done so well his first time up. He would have liked the little edge that came with getting on the scoreboard first,

  But right now he had to do his best to keep the Jaguars from scoring. Glancing to either side to make sure Mike was set at third base and Vern at second, he readied himself for the first pitch.

  Joey Sands was up. Danny could tell from his tense stance Joey was ready to belt the ball. In fact, Joey was too tense — he swung at a ball that almost dusted the plate. That must have settled him down a little, because he let the next three pitches, all balls, go by. Still, Danny was ready to make a move on any ball that came his way.

  With a 3 and 1 count, Joey could afford to wait the next one out. But he couldn’t resist a breaking ball that seemed to have his name on it. He swung and connected.

  If it had dropped a little sooner or later, it probably would have been a hit. As it happened, it was a hard drive to short. With an easy motion, Danny caught the ball fair and square for the first out.

  As the Jaguars shuffled around in the dugout, Danny glimpsed shiny auburn hair slipping here and there. She sure doesn’t stay put in the dugout, he thought. I know how she feels.

  Wally Mills, the Jaguars’ left fielder, was a power hitter. The entire infield backed up when he came to bat next. But Marc Bailey, the Bullets’ pitcher, got two called strikes by him before Wally connected with the ball. It was a rocket down the first base line, but Joanne was on top of it like a cat on a mouse. She tagged the base before Wally could drop his bat.

  Following her usual routine after a quick out, Joanne pegged the ball across to Danny. But Danny was watching the Jaguars’ dugout. The ball went right by him, and Joel had to run in to grab it and pass it on to Larry Chuan behind the plate.

  “Heads up, Walker!” called Joel. That got Danny’s attention. He shifted his eyes back toward the plate, where Marsha Kerns was settling in to her batting stance.

  The second baseman for the Jaguars was a specialist in placing the ball wherever she found a weakness. So far, the Bullets hadn’t given her much to aim for, but they weren’t taking any chances. All eyes were on Marsha.

  Marc threw two pitches that were way outside. Then, with a 2 and 0 count, he delivered a meatball, and she found it.

  Crack!

  The Bullets’ outfield ran backward, but it was no use. The ball was over the fence. The fans cheered as the score went up: Jaguars 1, Bullets 0.

  Danny was sorry to see the Jaguars score first.

  But it’s just the start of the game, he thought. And the series, too, he added.

  Marsha’s homer shook Marc’s confidence a little. He got the next batter, Roy Feenie, to swing at one inside pitch, but the next four throws were clearly balls. Ray dropped his bat and jogged down to first base as the Jaguars’ shortstop stepped up to the plate. Her long red ponytail swayed back and forth until she tucked it away and settled the bat a few inches above her shoulder.

  Hey, Danny noticed with surprise, she bats lefty. I could have sworn I saw her throwing with her right hand. Boy, I wonder if she’s copying me!

  Facing his left-handed hitter, Marc was a little cautious. After throwing three balls in a row, he baited her into swinging at an outside pitch she should have passed up. But she leaned into her swing and managed to hit the ball just over Joanne and into the grass behind first base. Roy took off toward second. Danny came in to cover him if he tried for third,
but he held up as the batter arrived safely on first.

  Who is she? Danny wondered. I thought I knew most of the players in the league, but I don’t remember ever seeing her before. Must be new.

  His curiosity was interrupted by the action at the plate. Marc had settled down a little and was sizzling them by Al Norris, the Jaguars’ center fielder. After two strikes, he went for the third pitch and clobbered the ball. It flew high, but not far. And when it landed, it was smack in the middle of Vern Labar’s glove for the third out.

  On his way off the field, Danny took a good look at the Jaguars’ shortstop. She was thumping her fist into her glove, waiting to catch a few warm-up throws. He saw that he had remembered correctly — she did field right-handed, although she batted lefty. Just like he did.

  “Hey, Walker!” Joel’s call interrupted Danny’s thoughts. “I thought you were the only ambidextrous shortstop in the league. Looks like you and that girl have a lot in common.”

  As Danny watched her shag a few balls, he had a disturbing thought. What if this girl was like him in other ways, too? What if she was just as good a baseball player as he was? He knew her abilities would make the series championship more of a challenge — but would that make her a threat to his chances for the All-Star squad?

  He took a seat next to Joel and said, “Yeah, we redheads are all alike. I guess that means I’ll be knocking a nice high line drive over first.”

  “Couldn’t hurt,” said Joel.

  They settled down on the bench to see what the lower half of the Bullets’ batting order could do to put them back in the game.

  Joanne did the team proud by belting the ball for a stand-up triple. Her long legs were too fast for the throw from deep right field. Then Joel hit a foul ball that the Jaguars’ third baseman caught in the air for the first out.

  Larry sneaked a hit by the Jaguars’ pitcher and sped to first for a single, but it wasn’t enough to bring Joanne home. So Marc came to bat with runners at first and third.

  None of the Bullets expected a lot from their pitcher’s hitting. With one away, they just wanted him to get it over with so the top of the order could get a shot.