Shortstop from Tokyo (2 page)

“Three more like that and you’ll have it made, Fuzzy!” yelled Beak.

Larry Hill didn’t throw three more like that. He sizzled two over the plate, then one up around Fuzzy’s neck which Fuzzy swung
at and missed. “Strike three!”

“Guess you should’ve done a commercial anyhow,” said Stogie, running out with him. “You might’ve made a hit.”

Fuzzy laughed. “Wasn’t my fault there wasn’t a camera around!”

Stretch Servo, the Mohawk pitcher, walked the Copperhead lead-off hitter. The next batter hit a clothesline drive to Stogie.
One out. Stogie whipped it to first and picked off the runner before he could tag up. Two outs! The third Copperhead took
two strikes in a row, then lined a drive between right and center for two bases. The next batter singled, driving him
in. Stretch mowed the fifth batter down with three pitched strikes.

“Start it off, Bernie,” said the coach at the top of the second inning.

Right fielder Bernie Drake did —with a pop-up. Tony Francis singled, then Stretch went down swinging. Lead-off man Russ Russo
took two called strikes, then laced a single through short. Tony galloped around second and held up at third.

“Knock him in, Beak!” yelled Fuzzy. “Don’t let ’im die there!”

Beak fanned.

The Copperheads picked up two runs, one of them on an error by Fuzzy. Stogie, leading off in the top of the third, took a
hard-swinging cut at the first pitch and belted it a mile. Only it was straight up. It came down from its dizzying height
and the Copperhead third baseman caught it.

“Too bad,” said Sam. “Should be that way.” He pointed toward left field.

“I know,” said Stogie, squeezing between a couple of guys on the bench.
I wonder if Coach Dirkus figures on playing Sam
, he thought.

Jim Albanese doubled. Bob Sobus walked. Then Fuzzy Caliel swung all the way around on a slow pitch — swung hard enough to
drive the ball into the next state. But the little white apple did nothing but dribble down toward third. Fuzzy dropped his
bat and scampered for first as if a ghost were after him, and made it. The cheers that exploded from the fans were the loudest
Fuzzy had received so far this year.

“Bases loaded!” yelled Beak. “Clean ’em, Bernie! You’re due, man!”

Bernie tripled.

“There ya go!” cried Beak, clapping furiously.

Tony struck out and Stretch flied out to finish the big three-run inning.

Stretch retired the first Copperhead on five pitches, then walked the next one. Stogie came in slightly and moved a few steps
closer to second as a left-hand batter strode to the plate. The lefty blasted a long high fly to center which sent Beak Peters
back a dozen steps. He caught the ball and pegged it in, holding the runner on first.

The next hitter uncorked a drive that went looping over Stogie’s head. Stogie ran back sideways, gloved hand stretched out,
his eyes on the ball that seemed to be
floating through the air like a balloon. It skimmed his glove and struck the grass. He caught the bounce, looked back, and
saw the runner arriving at second base. No play. He relayed the ball to Fuzzy, who carried it halfway to Stretch before tossing
it to him.

The next batter hit a high grounder to Fuzzy, who touched third for a force-out. Three away.

Mohawks 5, Copperheads 3. The top of the fourth coming up.

“Stogie, I want Sam to hit for you,” said the coach. “Ready, Sammy?”

Sam beamed. “Ready all the time,” he said happily.

R
USS RUSSO led off in the top of the fourth with a looping single over second. The coach signaled Lee Cragg (pinch-hitting
for Beak) to bunt, but Lee’s first two tries resulted in fouls. He had to swing now. He took two balls, then lashed hard at
the next pitch, sending it high into the air over short. The Copperhead shortstop grabbed it for the first out.

“Okay, Sam,” said Fuzzy. “Show ’em how you do it in Tokyo.”

“Tokyo?” Tony Francis frowned. “Is that where he’s from?”

“Sure. Where did you think he’s from —Mexico City?”

Sam whipped a couple of bats around a few times, then dropped one and stepped to the plate.

“He spreads his legs awful wide for a short guy,” observed Dennis.

“And look at him wave that bat around,” said Fuzzy. “Maybe he’s chasing the bugs away.”

Smack
! Sam Suzuki connected with the first pitch. The ball sailed over the third baseman’s head, curved outward, and struck the
ground just inside the foul line. The entire Mohawk bench stood on their feet. “Go! Go!”

By the time the left fielder had relayed the ball in, Russ had scored and Sam was perched nicely on third base.

“A triple!” cried Fuzzy, clapping thunderously. “How ’bout that? And the first pitch, too!” He laughed at Stogie. “Looks like you’ve just lost your job, Stogie, ol’ boy!”

Stogie grinned politely. He tried hard to hide a feeling that had been gnawing at him ever since Sam Suzuki had come upon
the scene. That triple had magnified the feeling a hundred times over. Yet it was strange. He didn’t know exactly what that
feeling was. Was it envy? Was it jealousy? Maybe it was one or the other, or both. But he knew it wasn’t right to be envious
or jealous of anyone. Envy and jealousy destroyed friendship, and made you feel sick inside, too.

Jim Albanese popped up to the catcher for the second out. Bob Sobus took a strike, then pitcher Larry Hill lost his control
and walked him. Dennis Krupa batted for
Fuzzy and grounded out to end the half inning.

“If I knew you were going to do that,” grumbled Fuzzy, “I would’ve batted myself.” As if he had anything to say about it.

The Mohawks trotted out to their positions and the Copperheads came to bat.

Coach Dirkus squeezed in between Stogie and Fuzzy on the bench. “Sam tell you guys about that glove of his?” he asked, grinning.

“Not me,” said Stogie.

“Me, either,” said Fuzzy. The other guys edged closer.

“He’s really proud of it, you know,” said the coach. “It seems a famous Japanese ball player, Shigeo Nagashima, signed his
name on the glove. So it’s worth a lot to Sam.”

Russ fumbled a grounder, putting a
man on first. The next hitter clobbered a long high fly that went clean over the left field fence for a homer. Stretch looked
nervous on the mound after that, even though the infielders and outfielders chattered to cheer him up.

A grounder sizzled like a scared snake down to short. Stogie watched intently as Sam crouched, waiting for it.
Miss it! Miss it
! Stogie couldn’t help wishing silently.

Sam caught the wild grounder and pegged it to first. His throw was like a tight string drawn across the diamond, incredible
for a little guy.

“Look at that arm!” exclaimed Coach Dirkus. “The kid can really throw!”

Stretch chalked up a strikeout. Another hot grounder to Sam, which he caught easily and pegged to first for an out, ended
the half inning. The scoreboard at the left of the left field foul line read:

Daren Holden singled for Bernie Drake in the top of the fifth. Tony Francis followed with another single. Then Stretch came
through with a double, scoring Daren and advancing Tony to third. Russ popped up to the pitcher. Then Lee Cragg blasted a
line drive to short and the shortstop picked off Stretch at second before he could tag up. Three away.

The Copperheads picked up a run in the bottom of the fifth. But the Mohawks, even though Sam Suzuki got his second hit of
the game, a double, couldn’t score.
The Copperheads, at bat for their last chance, failed to hit. One of their outs was a pop fly on the grass far behind Sam.
He ran back and caught the ball on the fingertips of his glove, drawing a tremendous cheer from the crowd. Mohawks 7, Copperheads
6.

“Sam certainly played a wonderful ball game,” said Jill, Stogie’s older sister. “I didn’t know they played baseball in Japan.”

“Huh!” Stogie snorted. “They probably play more baseball than we do. They draw bigger crowds, that’s for sure. Haven’t you
ever heard about our big league teams going over there and playing their teams?”

“When I read the sports pages I read about our girls’ softball team, not about big league teams playing in Japan,” said Jill
haughtily.

Dad chuckled. He and Mom were walking behind Stogie, Jill, Beak and Fuzzy. “Tell you one thing about Sam Suzuki,” he said.
“He’s an all-around baseball player. He can hit, throw and field like nobody’s business. And being among strangers his first
day didn’t seem to bother him a bit.”

Fuzzy laughed. “Bother him? I guess not! I’ve never seen a kid like him in my life!”

An hour later someone knocked on the back door. Jill answered it. “Stogie!” she called. “It’s Beak and Sam.”

Beak and
Sam
? Stogie went to the door.

“Hi,” he said, not too enthusiastically. Then he saw their gloves. Play baseball again? They’d just finished a game!

“Hi!” greeted Sam, smacking the pocket
of his glove with a small fist. “Like to play pepper?”

Beak grinned. “He came over to my house and asked if I’d come here so’s the three of us can play hit and catch,” said Beak.
“I told him we called it ‘pepper.’”

Stogie thought about it a minute. He really wasn’t keen about playing pepper. He’d been reading a sports book and was at an
interesting section. But since Sam had asked Beak to come over, Stogie knew he should be decent to him.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll get my bat.”

Sam’s face lit up like a lamp. “Good!” he exclaimed happily.

Stogie got his bat and they played in the backyard. The boys stood with their backs to the woods behind them. The woods extended
high up into the hills, the northern border of Westport. The city was small,
but had a college attended by students from all over the world. Surrounding the city were the woods, and every once in a while
a deer, a raccoon, a porcupine, or some other wild animal would be seen roaming a street, though never was one of them caught.

“What does your father do?” Stogie asked as he knocked a slow grounder down to Sam.

“He is a professor at Westport College,” replied Sam. “He won a fellowship from the university in Tokyo.”

“Then you’re not going to be in the United States very long?” Stogie asked almost hopefully.

“One year.”

“You speak pretty good English,” remarked Beak. “Been taking it in school?”

“Oh, sure! Been in United States one
year before, too. I want to talk English very well.”

Sam’s next pitch was too far inside. Stogie jumped back and swung, striking the underside of the ball. It popped high and
at an angle behind him. He spun and saw it head straight for a side window of the house next door. The Bunningers! Two people
who hated the sight of baseballs, footballs, bowling balls, or anything else that was round and connected with sports!