Ben Franklin let out a loud gasp.
Carol picked up one of the pieces. “I don’t think you’re breaking the bats, Phil,” she said. “But this is really strange. I am going to have to show this to the team’s owner and have security check it out.”
Phil shrugged. “I have no idea how that got there,” he said, shaking his head.
“I believe you, Phil,” Carol said. “But I’m not sure the Phillies’ owner will. He’s pretty upset about losing so many games. Unless we can figure out what’s making the bats break, he might bench you for the rest of the season.”
The next morning, Mike, Kate, and Mrs. Hopkins toured Philadelphia’s historic area. They had just stepped out of Betsy Ross’s house when Mrs. Hopkins answered a call on her phone. Mike and Kate waited in a couple of chairs in the courtyard. Mike read through a small book he had bought about the flag.
“Hey, Kate, check this out,” Mike said. “Is it ever okay to fly the American flag upside down?”
Kate studied the small red, white, and blue flags hung around the Betsy Ross house. “No,” she said. “Not that I can think of.”
“Wrong!” Mike said, handing her the open book. “In an emergency you can fly the flag upside down. It means send help.”
Kate flipped the page. “Okay, well, if you’re so smart, answer this,” she said. “What does Alvin ‘Shipwreck’ Kelly have to do with flags? He was famous back in the 1920s.”
Mike shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe he flew one upside down when he was shipwrecked!”
“Nope!” Kate said. “He set a world record for flagpole sitting! Once he sat on a little platform on top of a flagpole in Atlantic City for forty-nine days and one hour!”
“Wow,” Mike said. “And I thought it was hard to sit through math class!”
Kate’s mom returned. “That was Carol,” she said, putting her phone away. “The security team checked the pieces of the bat under Phil’s desk but couldn’t find out who broke it.”
“That’s good,” Mike said as they walked toward Independence Hall.
“What do you mean?” Kate asked. “Wouldn’t it be better if they could figure out who’s breaking the bats?”
“It would,” Mike said. “But at least they can’t prove it’s Phil.”
Kate groaned. “Come on! You don’t think it’s Phil’s fault, do you?” she asked. “He seemed pretty honest to me.”
“Me too,” Mrs. Hopkins said. “I hope nothing else goes wrong for him.” They crossed the street to Independence Hall. “Carol said if something else happens, they might fire him!”
Independence Hall, a two-story brick building, rose up in front of them. At its center was a tall white tower with a clock. A small group of tourists stood in front of the main entrance. They were gathered around a park ranger wearing a tan shirt, dark green pants, and a wide-brimmed tan hat.
“Here in 1775, the Colonies claimed freedom from England,” the ranger said. “Men from each state worked on the Declaration of Independence in this very building. When they were done, they read it to the public in Independence Square. Legend says that they rang the Liberty Bell to celebrate, but historians think that’s not really true.”
Mike nudged Kate. “I wish I could sign a declaration of independence from homework!” he said.
“Based on your grades, it seems like you already have,” Kate said, nudging him back.
The park ranger pointed to a line of visitors near the back of Independence Hall. “You can take tours of the building,” he said, “but they’re sold out for today. You might want to visit the Liberty Bell instead. It’s just across the street.”
Kate’s mother tapped Mike and Kate on the shoulder. “Well? How does that sound?”
They crossed the street to a long brick-and-glass building. Inside, at the far end, was the Liberty Bell. The big brown bell hung between two posts from a thick piece of wood. A large crack ran from the bottom of the bell almost to the top.
“My teacher said that the crack started tiny,” Kate said. “As it grew bigger, they tried to fix it. Then they put bolts at the top and bottom of the crack to hold the sides together.”
A park ranger stood next to the bell. “That’s right. The Liberty Bell cracked the first time it was rung,” he told them. “After it cracked, the city melted the bell down and recast it. Later on, it cracked again. Over time, the bell has become a symbol of American independence and freedom.”
Mike stepped toward a small railing that circled the bell. He didn’t need to get close to see the crack.
“Whoa! That crack is like two feet long!” he said.
Kate edged up next to him. “You’ve cracked enough windows playing baseball,” she said. “It’s like they picked you to ring the bell!”
“I don’t know,” Mike said. “I’m so strong I probably would have broken it in half if I had rung it!”
Kate laughed. Mike always thought he was more powerful than he really was.
As the crowd thinned out, Mrs. Hopkins positioned Mike and Kate in front of the bell for a picture. Then, on their way out, they stopped at the gift shop. Inside were lots of colonial-themed gifts, like bobbleheads of the presidents, copies of the Declaration of Independence, pens made out of feathers, and toy Liberty Bells.
Mike held up a small wooden baseball bat about eight inches long. “Cool! A tiny bat!” he said. Poking out of the handle was the tip of a pen. “And look, I can write with it! Now I can hit a home run in English class!”
At the back of the shop, Kate found a rack of costumes. “Mom! Look! Mike and I could use these for the contest tomorrow!” she called out. She held up George Washington and Betsy Ross costumes.
Mike checked out the George Washington outfit. “Good idea. But I’d want to change it up a little,” he said. He put the old-fashioned black hat back on the rack. “I think our George Washington is a Phillies fan. I’ll wear a Phillies baseball cap instead of this!”
“Great idea!” Kate said. “And my Betsy Ross could be sewing a Phillies flag!”
Mrs. Hopkins checked the price tags and nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Let me pay for the costumes and the pen for Mike and then we’ll go back to the stadium for the game. I’ll meet you outside.”
Mike and Kate walked out into the warm afternoon sun. They were just about to sit down on a bench when they spotted Ben Franklin next to a red brick wall. He was holding his kite and the brass key while a couple of tourists took pictures of him. When the tourists left, Mike and Kate walked over.
“Oh, hello, you two,” Ben Franklin said as he put his kite down. “Any news on Phil and the broken bat?”
“Well, my mother heard from Carol this morning,” Kate told him. “She said that if anything else goes wrong, they might fire Phil!”
Ben Franklin took off his black three-cornered hat and mopped his brow. Then he glanced over his shoulder and leaned forward.
“Phil’s a nice guy,” Ben whispered. “But I have to tell you, he’s been acting strange lately. I didn’t mention it yesterday because I don’t want to get him in trouble.”
“What do you mean?” Mike asked.
“Last week when I came into work before a game, I saw Phil leaving the Phillies’ dugout,” Ben said. “I don’t think he’d do anything to the team’s bats, but he’s not supposed to be in there.”
“Maybe we could search the dugout for clues,” Mike said. “We could wear Phillies shirts and say we’re the kids of one of the players.”
“I don’t think that would work,” Ben said. “Players arrange things like that in advance.”
“Maybe we could say it’s a surprise?” Mike asked.
Ben shrugged. “They’re not going to let you in unless you have a good reason,” he said.
Kate thought for a moment. She snapped her fingers.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said. “I know how Mike and I can sneak into the dugout before tonight’s game to check the bats!”
“Come on, Kate,” Mike said.
“Can’t I have just one?”
“No,” Kate said firmly. “We need them to get into the dugout. I saw this on a TV show once, and it worked great.”
Mike and Kate were holding big trays of hot dogs covered in relish, mustard, and ketchup. They had used all of Mike’s spending money for the weekend to buy them. Kate stepped up to a security guard near the Phillies’ dugout. He was standing by a small gate in front of the first row of seats. The gate led onto the field.
“This isn’t going to work,” Mike whispered to Kate.
“Excuse me,” Kate said. “We have a special delivery for the Phillies. We were told to take these to the dugout.”
The guard looked down at Kate. Then he glanced over at the Phillies’ dugout. A few players were starting to trickle in.
“I’m afraid we’re not allowed to let fans on the field before games,” the security guard said. “Sorry.”
Kate winked at the guard. “We know that,” she said. “But these are a special birthday surprise for Tim Diamond. All we have to do is go in for a minute and drop them off.”
The security guard pushed his baseball cap back and scratched his forehead. “I really don’t think I can allow that,” he said. “But let me go check.” He walked over to the dugout, talked with a team official, and came back shaking his head.
“I’m very sorry,” the security guard said. “But we can’t allow anyone in the dugout, even if it is a special occasion. If you want, you can leave the food with me and I’ll bring it over.”
Kate’s smile tightened. “Can’t we just drop these off this one time?” she asked him. “Please?”
The security guard crossed his arms. “No, I’m really sorry,” he said. “It’s against the rules.”
Mike shrugged and started up the aisle with his hot dogs. Kate looked once more at the players in the dugout and turned to follow him. But then something farther down the field caught her eye.
“Mike!” Kate said. “Over there!” She nodded at the section to her right and crossed a row of empty seats. Mike followed along.
Kate stopped at the seats in front of right field. A man in a groundskeeper’s uniform was tidying up the grass on the other side of the wall.
Kate cleared her throat and held up her tray of hot dogs.
“Excuse me,” Kate said when she had his attention. “We have too many hot dogs. Would you like one?”
A big smile crossed the groundskeeper’s face. “Sure,” he said. He put his rake down and came over to the infield wall. Kate held out her tray. The man selected one with lots of relish and took a big bite. Mike set his tray down and grabbed a hot dog with just mustard.
“I’m Kate, and this is my cousin Mike,” Kate said.
“I’m Louie,” the man said between bites. “It’s a great night for a game. I just hope nothing goes wrong!”
Kate nudged Mike. “I know!” she said. “What’s going on with those broken bats? We’ve heard it might be one of the Phanatic’s jokes.”
Louie waved his hand. “Nah,” he said after swallowing another bite. “The Phanatic would never do anything to hurt the team.”
“How about the Phanatic’s friend Phil?” Mike asked. “Someone told us he’s been acting strange lately.”
Louie shook his head. “I did see something weird last week. I was cleaning up after everyone had gone home when I saw the Phanatic in the dugout. He’s usually not around after the games, especially that late.”
“What was he doing?” Mike asked.
Louie shrugged. “Hard to tell. I was on the other side of the field,” he said. “But he was over in the corner near the locker room stairs. He left after a few minutes.”
“Do you think he was doing something to the bats?” Kate asked.
“Nope. He loves the team,” Louie said. He finished off the hot dog and licked his fingers. “Anyhow, it’s been nice chatting, but I have to get to work. Thanks for the snack!” He ambled back to the patch of grass he’d been working on.
“Wow! Did you hear that? The Phanatic was in the dugout!” Mike said.
Kate scuffed the ground with her sneaker. “I just can’t believe it would be Phil or the Phanatic,” she said. “I wish we could find a way to get into the dugout. I was really hoping the hot dogs would work.”
“I still think they were a good idea,” Mike said.
“What do you mean?” Kate asked. “They didn’t get us into the dugout.”
Mike smiled. “I know,” he said. “But at least now I won’t get hungry during the game!”
After eating a couple of hot dogs each, Mike and Kate gave the rest away to nearby fans and returned to their seats. Carol and Mrs. Hopkins were looking through that day’s program.
During the first inning, Mike took out his new baseball bat pen. Whenever the pitcher threw the ball, Mike pretended to swing at it with his miniature bat. “Another home run for Mike Walsh!” he’d say. Each time he did it, Mrs. Hopkins shook her head and smiled.
Things looked good for the Phillies. Their hot new pitcher, Travis Hunter, struck out three Mets batters in a row. Up at the plate, the Phillies had just as much luck. Their first batter made it to third when the Mets outfielder dropped a long fly ball. The second batter hit a line drive to left field. It fell in for a base hit while the runner on third scored.
Mike punched the air. “All right!” he said. “Now we’re up one to zero!”
But the crowd grew silent after the next two Phillies batters struck out. It looked like the Phillies might only get one run for the inning. Then Sammy Masri came up to bat. On his second swing, he hit a towering fly ball to right field.
“Come on! Come on!” Kate called as she jumped to her feet. “It’s gotta be a home run!”
Carol and Mrs. Hopkins rose out of their seats and cheered. “Go! Go! Go!” Carol yelled as the ball sailed to deep right.
The Mets right fielder raced back toward the wall. The baseball plunged down, toward the seats. But the Mets player didn’t stop. He leapt into the air just as the baseball dropped down over the wall. His glove shot up.
PLOP!
He snagged it! The Mets fielder had caught the ball for the third out!
“Aw, shoot!” Mike said. “I wanted to see the Liberty Bell go off again!”
“I guess we’ll have to wait for that,” Kate said as they sat down again.
CRUNCH!
A loud cracking sound came from under Mike’s right foot. He leaned over and popped back up with his baseball pen.
“Oh no, Mike,” Mrs. Hopkins said. “Your new pen!”
“Look, it’s fine!” Mike said. “Nothing wrong with it!” He twirled the pen around in his fingers. Then he pretended to bat with it again.
Mrs. Hopkins shook her head and went back to talking with Carol. They were planning a visit to the tall ships event the next day.
“That was a pretty loud crunch!” Kate said to Mike doubtfully.
Mike handed the pen to Kate. It looked fine. But when she tried writing with it on the back of her ticket, a split opened up at the thin end of the pen. It was broken! Kate picked the pen up off the paper. The split disappeared. It looked normal. She tried writing again. The split opened up.
Mike’s shoulders slumped. “Nuts!” he said. “I liked that pen.”
Kate handed the pen back to Mike. “Sorry,” she said. “But at least you’ve got two things to remember Philadelphia by.”
“What do you mean?” Mike asked.
“You’ve got the pen,” Kate said. “And now you’ve got the crack, too! Just like the one in the Liberty Bell!” She studied the big neon bell in the outfield. Then her eyes lit up. “A crack! That’s it, cuz. Give me your pen again!”
Mike handed the pen to Kate.
Kate rolled the miniature bat in her fingers. It looked perfect. But when she pushed on the end of it, the split opened up along the handle.
Kate pointed to the small crack in the bat. “Hey, Mike, look at that! A crack,” she said. “I’ll bet someone’
s putting tiny cracks in the Phillies’ bats!”
“What do you mean?” Mike asked.
Kate pointed to the crack in the Liberty Bell. “What if someone’s been putting thin cracks in the bats so that when the players hit a ball, the bat breaks apart? The tiny cracks would be hard to see, but over time the bats would end up breaking! It would be like the Liberty Bell. A tiny crack that grows into a big one!”
“Wow, that might be it!” Mike said. “I wish there was a way to get into the dugout to check the bats.”
“There’s always a way,” Kate said. She twirled the end of her ponytail around her finger. “Maybe you can pretend to be a batboy? Or we could hide in the bathrooms until after the stadium is closed and—”
“Or we could ask Carol if she can bring us to the dugout after the game to take pictures,” Mike said. “She’d be able to get us in!”
Kate laughed. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that!”
During the next break in the action, Kate asked Carol if they could visit the dugout after the game. Carol thought it was a great idea.
Unfortunately, things didn’t line up so well for the Phillies. Even with a home run in the eighth inning, the Phillies couldn’t catch up. The Mets won, 3–2.
After the crowd thinned out, Carol led Mike, Kate, and Mrs. Hopkins to a gate in the infield wall. She whispered to the security guard on the other side of the gate. He checked her employee ID and let them onto the field.
The red clay crunched under their feet. “This is great!” Mike said.
Carol scuffed her foot in the dirt. “We’re allowed to walk on the warning track,” she said. “But stay away from the infield grass. Our head groundskeeper, John, tries to keep visitors off it, since he works so hard to keep it perfect.”
Kate checked out the field. The grounds crew was hustling around with rakes and other tools, getting the infield ready for the next day’s game. As they reached the dugout, Mike almost bumped into the groundskeepers’ green cart that was parked in front of it.
Mike and Kate bounded down the dugout steps. The dugout was empty except for paper cups on the floor and some towels on the benches. In the corner were bins full of dozens of bats. Mike and Kate wanted to head right for the bats, but Carol made them sit with Mrs. Hopkins on the long bench against the back wall while she took pictures. Mike kept messing up the pictures because he was fidgeting so much.
The Philly Fake Page 2