Double Play at Short
Read Double Play at Short Online
Authors: Matt Christopher
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.
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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
THE #1 SPORTS SERIES FOR KIDS: MATT CHRISTOPHER
®
To
Bruce
and
Ann
T
hwap!
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.
D
anny 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.
