No Arm in Left Field (6 page)

“Old no arm!” Tony Casterline yelled at Terry. “When are you going to trade it in?”

“Why don’t you come in for the relay?” Terry shouted back. “Maybe we can throw out some of those runners at third!”

“Oh, sure!” Tony replied.

But wasn’t that reasonable?
Terry thought.
If Tony ran out and intercepted the throw in, Ed could cover third base. Even if the relay to him was too late to nab the
runner at third, at least it would hold him on base, or get him out at home if he dared to risk running there.

Mick fanned a Thunderhead, but that only seemed to increase their rage. Their booming bats knocked in two more runs.

“Tony!” Terry yelled. “Call time! Talk to Mick! Maybe he’s too tired to keep pitchin’!”

Almost at once Tony lifted a hand and cried, “Time, ump!” The base umpire lifted his arms as a signal to the plate umpire,
who lifted his arms too and called for time. The infielders ran in and huddled around Mick, and Terry’s heart warmed a little.
It was the first time that Tony had ever heeded his suggestion.

Then Woody Davis walked to the mound and Mick walked off. A cheer from the Forest Lakers’ fans burst out for Mick, who kept
his gaze glued unhappily to the ground all the way to the dugout.

There were two men on as Woody threw in a half a dozen warm-up pitches. Then time in was called and Woody went
to work. He had trouble with his control and walked the first man, filling the bases. He took his time on the next hitter,
and struck him out. Two outs.

The stands were silent as the next Thunderhead came to the plate. There was even silence in the infield, until Terry cried,
“Come on, you guys! Get alive! Say something!”

Ed started the chatter. Tony joined in. Presently all nine men were shouting in a chorus of voices filled with spirit and
enthusiasm.

The pitch.
Smack!
A sky-reaching fly to short left center field. Terry ran after it, shouting, “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!”

He heard another voice yelling too. “I’ll take it!”

He was positive, though, that he had
a better chance to catch the ball, since he was running toward it. He reached for it. Just as he caught it someone collided
into him and down they both went.

When he regained his senses he saw he had run into Tony.

T
HAT WAS MY
ball, Terry. I yelled for it,” Tony said hotly as he sat on the ground, glaring.

“I yelled for it, too,” Terry countered, rising and straightening his cap.

Tony got up slowly, and Terry wondered if he was hurt.

“I was under the ball, waiting for it, when you plowed into me,” Tony went on, still fuming.

There was a shout from center fielder Rich Muldoon, and Terry realized that
the teams were exchanging sides. He ignored Tony and ran off the field.

Coach Harper was standing in front of the dugout, waiting for him and Tony.

“You guys all right?” he asked, concerned.

They nodded.

“That was my ball,” Tony insisted, going past the coach to the dugout. “I was waiting for it.”

“He’s right, Terry,” Coach Harper agreed. “That
was
his ball. Didn’t you hear him yell for it?”

“Yes. But I… Well, I was sure it was mine, too. That’s why
I
yelled.”

“He was waiting for it,” the coach pointed out, “while you were still running. Better watch it the next time. A collision
might turn out worse.”

“Yes, sir,” Terry promised.

“And you, Ed,” the coach turned to the third baseman, “should’ve yelled, too. It’s your job as well to let the guys know who
should catch that ball.”

Ed Caliel looked sheepishly at him. “I wasn’t sure,” he said apologetically.

“Make sure,” the coach said. “Yell someone’s name, even if it’s just to prevent a collision. Tony and Terry were lucky that
neither one of them was hurt. Okay. Let’s play ball. Who’s the first batter?”

“I am,” Jeff Roberts said.

The wiry second baseman already had on his protective helmet. He stepped to the plate, waited out Ted Joseph’s pitches, and
got his second free pass to first.

The Forest Lakers’ bench was like a funeral wake. Not a sound came from it
even when Jeff trotted to first base. The Thunderheads’ lead of 5 to 2 seemed to have muzzled the Lakers’ enthusiasm.

Terry reflected on the fly ball he had gone after and the collision with Tony. He realized he had jumped from the skillet
into the fire. He had given Tony another excuse to taunt him.

He saw Tony step to the plate, and remembered he was up next. He put on a helmet, selected his favorite bat, and stood beside
the dugout.

Tony flied out.

Terry walked to the plate, let a pitch go by for ball one, then swung at one of those high, outside ones he liked so much.
Swish!

“Oh, come on, Terry,” came Tony’s disgruntled remark.

Then
crack!
A hard blow between third
and short. Terry bolted to first and Jeff advanced to second.

Rich grounded out, however, and Bud popped to first to end the threat.

The Lakers held the Thunderheads scoreless in the top of the fourth, then rallied in the bottom half of the inning. A single
by Ed, and then a triple by Caesar Valquez scored the Lakers’ third run of the game. Woody’s single drove in Caesar, making
the score Thunderheads 5, Forest Lakers 4.

Again in the fifth inning the Thunderheads weren’t able to get a man on. The Lakers came up, and Rich’s long clout over the
left field fence tied up the score.

With the score tied, excitement began to mount. In the sixth, Woody grooved a pitch down the center of the plate.
Boom!
The ball sailed out like a rocket to
left center field. Terry chased after it, caught it on the first hop and pegged it to Rich, who relayed it to second base.
The runner started past the bag, then spun and slid back to it as second baseman Jeff Roberts caught the ball and put it on
him.

“Safe!” yelled the base umpire.

Jeff argued the call for a moment, then gave up and tossed the ball to Woody. Terry grinned. Jeff was a fireball when he disagreed
on a decision.

A ground ball to third. Ed fielded it nicely and whipped it to first. One out.

A big right-hander stepped to the plate. Terry backpedaled a few steps.
Crack!
A hard blow to left! Terry started to run back toward the left field foul line. The ball hit in fair territory and bounced
to the fence. Terry sprinted after it, picked
it up and pegged it in to Ed who had run out for the throw. Ed then fired it to Tony, who was covering third, and Tony tagged
the runner.

“Out!” boomed the ump.

But a run had scored. The Thunder-heads were back in the lead, 6–5.

They couldn’t score again and the Lakers went to bat with their backs against the wall. Caesar flied out to short. Then Woody
chalked up his second hit of the game, a double. Jeff swung hard at two pitches in an effort to drive in the tying run, but
grounded out to third. Tony tried hard too, and managed to draw a walk. With two on and two outs, Terry strode to the plate.

“Belt it, Terry!” Mick yelled. “Just a single’s all we need!”

Terry grounded out.

T
HE FOREST LAKERS
lost their next two games — to the Cornhuskers and the Boilers — and were in the doldrums.

“Chin up,” Coach Harper said encouragingly. “It’s not the end of the world.”

For Terry it was close to it. There was a parallel between him and the team, he figured. Both were losers. There was a chance
for the Lakers to start winning, but would there be for him?

Tony Casterline was still hostile toward him. The gap in their relationship hadn’t
closed a bit. As a matter of fact, it seemed to have widened.

On Monday, July 19, Terry and Mick were walking to the game with the Yellow Jackets when Mick mentioned something that Terry
wished he hadn’t.

“Did you get invited to Tony’s birthday party?” he asked

Terry stared at him. “You must be kidding.”

Mick laughed, “I’m sorry. He still doesn’t like you, does he?”

“Not a bit,” Terry said. “Sometimes I think the situation between us is worse than the first time we met.”

“His father speaks to you, doesn’t he?”

“He says ‘Hello’ when he sees me. A couple of times he even paid me a compliment. He isn’t all thawed out, though. I can tell.”

“Harry’s all right, though, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yes. Harry’s okay.” Terry remembered the day that Harry Casterline had driven him and Mick up Motorcycle Hill. “His dune
buggy fixed yet?”

Mick nodded. “Saw him with it yesterday.”

The game started with the Yellow Jackets taking first raps. Woody Davis was on the mound for the Lakers. It was a clear, warm
day and the bleachers were packed.

Nothing happened in the first inning. The Yellow Jackets threatened to score in the top of the second as their lead-off hitter
lambasted a long triple, but third base was as far as he got.

The Forest Lakers broke the scoreless tie in the bottom half of the second inning when Ed came through with a surprising triple
and scored on Stu Henderson’s
scratch single to short. Then, in the top of the third, the Yellow Jackets’ bats began singing a tune that meant disaster
to the Lakers. Two runs scored on back-to-back doubles. A third run scored after a hit to short left field which Terry caught
on the first hop and whipped in to home in an effort to nab the runner.

The Yellow Jacket beat the throw by two steps. Terry was certain that anyone else could have thrown the man out easily. He
turned unhappily and went back to his spot, waiting to hear a disparaging remark from Tony. Surprisingly, it didn’t come.

A pop fly, a strikeout, and a fly to Terry ended the bad half inning.

Tony singled to start off the bottom half of the third, and Terry got the signal to bunt. He waited for the pitch, stuck
out his bat and
crack!
A pop-up to the pitcher!

Tony had started to second and was sprinting back to tag up when the pitcher whipped the ball to first.

“Out!” cried the ump.

Terry stood in the batter’s box, staring at Tony as he came trotting in to the dugout. Their eyes locked.

“You call that a bunt?” Tony snorted.

“I didn’t say it was,” Terry replied calmly.

Terry followed Tony to the dugout.

“You shouldn’t have run, Tony,” Coach Harper said firmly. “On a bunt you wait until the ball is on the ground. You should
know that.”

“Sorry,” Tony muttered as he squeezed in between Caesar and Woody. Mick pushed aside to make room for Terry.

“It was my fault, too,” Terry said as he sat down. “A horse could’ve bunted better than that.”

Rick doubled to left center. Bud’s fly to right ended the inning.

Nothing significant happened in the fourth. The infield seemed as quiet as a cemetery and Terry tried to put some spark into
it. “Come on, guys! Talk it up! Chatter!”

They came to life. They chattered. Their voices joined together, became one. Ed smiled at Terry. “That-a-boy, Terry,” he said.
“That’s what we needed.”

Woody walked the first man in the fifth inning, then worked up to a 3–2 count on the next batter. He stepped off the mound,
took off his cap, wiped his face with the sleeve of his jersey, then stepped in again.

Crack!
A high fly to short left field! Terry sprinted after it. “I’ll take it!” he yelled.

“I’ve got it!” another voice yelled in front of him.

He glanced down for an instant and saw Tony running back toward him.
What shall I do?
he thought.
I can’t risk another collision!

Then he heard Ed yell, “It’s Tony’s ball! Tony’s ball!”

“Take it, Tony!” Terry shouted.

He slowed down and watched Tony catch the ball with little effort.

“Nice catch, Tony,” he said, smiling.

A grin flashed over Tony’s face. “Thanks, Terry,” he said.

Terry trotted back to his position, feeling pretty good that this time the play
had worked perfectly. Even Tony had cracked a grin, as if to say,
We did it right this time, didn’t we?

A hot grounder to Jeff resulted in a double play. Three outs.

“Come on, men,” Coach Harper snapped. “This is the fifth inning and we’re two runs behind. What d’you say?”

Jeff walked. Tony tried twice to bunt him down to second and fouled both times. He then hit a scratch single to short. Jeff
ran to second in time to beat the throw. Two on, no outs, and Terry was up.

He glanced at the coach, saw him brush his left hand across his chest.

The bunt signal was on.

N
ERVOUSLY,
Terry stepped into the box and waited for the pitch. In it came, knee high. He moved into bunting stance and stuck out his
bat.

A neat bunt down the third-base line! The Yellow Jacket third baseman rushed in to field it, scooped it up and whipped it
to first. Out! But both Jeff and Tony had advanced a base and were now in good scoring position.