The Catcher's Mask (2 page)

The lawn was covered with stuff: chairs, tables, boxes of books and magazines, lamps, pictures, even a toaster and a telephone.
People were inspecting items, and Rudy saw a few of them carry their choices to a table set up to one side. Behind the table
sat Mrs. Turnball. The people handed her money, then walked away with their purchases.

Rudy had seen yard sales before, but he’d never stopped at one. He was curious. Maybe if he saw something he liked, he could
bike home and get some money to buy it.

He leaned his bike against a tree and joined the other people milling around the lawn. He poked into a few of the book boxes
but didn’t see anything he wanted to read. He picked up
a funny-looking lamp, but the cord at the end was frayed and he wasn’t sure his mom or dad would know how to fix it. He wasn’t
interested in ashtrays or old plates and glasses. In fact, he didn’t see anything he really liked. He turned to leave.

Just then, he spotted something sticking out of a box that was jammed under a table. He tugged the box free and pulled the
thing out.

It was a catcher’s mask — and though it looked like an older model, it was in good condition. Rudy could tell at a glance
that it was smaller than the one he used during the Mudders’ games. He slipped it over his head. Even without the protective
helmet he’d have to wear underneath it, he knew it fit perfectly.

“Hello, Rudy. Find something you like?” Rudy looked up to see Mr. Turnball standing beside him. Rudy pulled off the mask.

“Sure did. How much does it cost?” Rudy replied.

Mr. Turnball took the mask from him. “Well, now, let’s see.” He frowned. “Hmm, I don’t remember this. Wonder where it came
from.”

He examined it a little longer, then handed it back to Rudy. “Looks like someone marked his initials on it.
Y.B.
Can’t say as I know anyone with those initials. Tell you what: you can have it for two dollars.”

He reached into a box beside him, rummaged around for a moment, then came out with a book.
Play Ball!
the cover read. He glanced around and lowered his voice. “I’ll throw this old book in, too. Mrs. Turnball says anything that
doesn’t get sold today gets hauled to the dump. I’d just as soon know that my old books are being read rather than sitting
at the bottom of a trash heap.”

Rudy grinned and thanked Mr. Turnball. He hurried home, emptied out his piggy bank,
and pulled out a five-dollar bill. He returned to the Turnballs’ as fast as he could. Mr. Turnball gave him three dollars
in change, and Rudy left, the proud owner of a new catcher’s mask and a book.

That night after dinner, Rudy lay on the living room floor and looked through his new book. It was filled with pictures of
famous baseball players and lots of advice about how to play different positions. Rudy turned to the section on catching.

The catcher is one of the most important players in the game,
the book said.
He is the only member of the team who faces the field. Therefore, he’s the only one who can see what’s going on at every position.
A smart catcher can help his team a lot by keeping them informed of what he sees.

Rudy glanced at the catcher’s mask beside him.
Well, I’ll be able to see a lot more out there now that I have a mask that fits!
he said to himself.

He turned the page. There was a big black-and-white photo of a catcher diving for a pop-up. In the corner was the player’s
signature. Rudy recognized the name right away.

Lawrence “Yogi” Berra gives everything he’s got to make the play,
the words beneath the photo read.

Lawrence Peter Berra was born on April 12, 1925. He got his nickname, “Yogi,” when a friend who had seen a movie of a Hindu
practicing yoga told him that’s what he looked like.

Yogi
—
now that’s a name a guy isn’t likely to forget,
Rudy thought with a smile.
And he was a catcher, just like me.

He continued reading about the famous catcher. He learned that Yogi Berra had been on ten World Series Championship teams. He had played for almost twenty years, from 1946 to 1965, and was named Most Valuable Player three times. After he retired
as a player, he managed two New York major league teams. Rudy wasn’t at all surprised to learn that Yogi Berra had been elected
to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

He stared at the famous catcher’s picture and signature. Suddenly something Mr. Turnball had said that afternoon flashed in
his mind: “Someone marked his initials on it.
Y.B.”

Rudy snatched up the mask. Sure enough, there were the initials, plain as day!

Rudy looked at the initials, then at the signature in the book, and back again. His heart started pounding. To his eye, the
Y and the
B
on the mask looked exactly the same as the Y and the
B
on the photograph!

Yogi Berra signed this catcher’s mask!
he thought excitedly.
I bet it’s really valuable!

Then another thought struck him. If it was
valuable, would he have to give it back to Mr. Turnball? After all, he had paid Mr. Turnball only two dollars for it.
He might not want
Rudy to have it if it was worth a lot of money.

He knew he should tell Mr. Turnball what he’d found out about the initials. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t care if the mask
might be worth a lot of money, although that was exciting. No, Rudy wanted to keep it because he was sure he’d be the best
catcher in the league if he played with a Hall-of-Famer’s mask.

He slipped the mask over his face.

I’ll just play one game with it,
Rudy thought, staring at the photo of Yogi Berra.
After all, Mr. Turnball couldn’t remember where the mask came from. And he saw the initials himself, so it’s not like I’m
hiding anything from him.

With that, he pushed away his guilty thoughts and started to read the book again.

When Rudy woke up the next morning, the first thing he saw was the catcher’s mask on his nightstand. The second thing he saw
was the baseball book. Before he had turned out his light the night before, he had read the chapter on catching twice.

Rudy pushed the book aside and picked up the mask. The book had been interesting to read. But he already knew that a catcher
had to be strong enough to throw a runner out at second. And that he had to have good balance and quick reflexes to chase
after bunts, field pop fouls, and snap up wild pitches. And that
the catcher had to be brave, especially when a runner was coming in full steam ahead from third.

No, it wasn’t reading a book about catching that was going to make him a better player. It was the mask. After all, it had
belonged to one of the best catchers in the game, hadn’t it? He couldn’t wait to try it out.

That afternoon, he got his wish. Sparrow Fisher called to say that Coach Parker wanted to hold a practice.

“We’re playing the Bearcats on Thursday. He thinks we need to bone up a little before then,” Sparrow said. Although he didn’t
say it, Rudy felt sure that Sparrow thought Rudy needed the extra practice more than anyone.

Well, we’ll see about that,
Rudy thought.

“You’re here bright and early,” said Nicky Chong as Rudy rode up a few hours later. “Lately, you’ve been the last one at the
field.”

Rudy just grinned and asked Nicky to help him on with his catcher’s equipment. When
Nicky tried to hand him the Mudders’ catcher’s mask, Rudy shook his head.

“I’ve got my own now,” he said, proudly holding up the
Y.B.
mask.

Nicky examined it, then shrugged. “Looks kind of old and scruffy,” he said. “But as long as you can catch with it, who cares?”

“Oh, you can bet on that!” Rudy replied positively. He was going to tell Nicky about the initials but suddenly decided not
to. For now, he wanted to keep it a secret that he was playing with a mask that had once belonged to a Hall-of-Famer.

Okay, Yogi, let’s show them what we can do,
he thought as he slid the mask into place.

Rudy hurried behind the plate. Sparrow Fisher was on the mound for the Mudders.

“Okay, fellas,” Coach Parker called, “let’s do a few quick drills, then we’ll have a little infield practice. Once around
the horn to begin.”

Sparrow started the drill by hurling the ball to Rudy. Rudy threw the ball to first base. Turtleneck Jones sent it rocketing
to Nicky at second. Nicky hurled it to T.V. Adams at third, who relayed it back to Rudy.

“All right! Good throws, guys!” Rudy called. He had never felt better during a warm-up. He was raring to start the scrimmage.

“Okay, Mudders, no mistakes, no mistakes!”

Barry McGee came to the plate. “Sheesh, you’re a real loudmouth today, Rudy,” he said. “What’s come over you?”

Rudy grinned through his mask. “It’s what’s come over my
face
that’s making the difference,” he said mysteriously.

Barry stared at him, shrugged, then turned to face Sparrow.

Sparrow’s first pitch was in the dirt in front of home plate. Barry jumped out of the way.
But Rudy didn’t even flinch. He snagged the ball before it had a chance to rebound into the backstop.

“Nice stop, Rudy. Guess what’s over your face is helping,” Barry complimented him. He faced Sparrow again and this time got
a good pitch, which he sent through the grass toward first.

José Mendez took a turn at bat next and hit a bouncing grounder toward second.

Nicky fielded José’s hit cleanly and stepped on the bag to get Barry out. But he bumbled the throw to first and missed making
the double play.

“That’s okay, Nicky. Save it for the game instead!” Rudy yelled from behind the plate. Nicky waved to show he’d heard.

Alfie Maples was up next. The coach said a few words to him. Then Alfie adjusted his glasses and stepped to the plate. He
let two of Sparrow’s pitches go by. Then, on the third, he suddenly squared his shoulders, slid his top
hand toward the fat part of the bat, and tried to lay down a bunt.

The ball bounced a few feet in front of the plate. Alfie took off to first. José motored to second.