The Lucky Baseball Bat
Copyright © 1954 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.
This is a reissue edition of
The Lucky Baseball Bat
published in 1954 by Little, Brown and Company.
Matt Christopher® is a registered trademark of 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.
The characters and events portrayed in the book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Visit our Web site at
www.HachetteBookGroup.com
The “Little, Brown and Company” name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
First eBook Edition: September 2004
ISBN: 978-0-316-02783-0
Contents
To
Marty, Pam, and Dale
M
ARVIN bit his lip and mopped his damp forehead with a grimy handkerchief. His sister Jeannie, two years younger than he, scowled at him.
“What’re you afraid of? Go in there and ask them.”
“Ask who?” Marvin said.
He looked from her to the group of boys scattered on the ball field. They were practicing, just throwing the ball among themselves to limber up their muscles and get the feel of it. The sun was shining through a thin layer of cloud, with a lot of blue sky around it. Many of the boys wore short-sleeved jerseys.
Jeannie brushed a tangle of curly hair away from her eyes and pointed. “Ask that man there. Jim Cassell, He’s the captain or something, isn’t he?”
Marvin didn’t like to go and ask Jim Cassell. Jim might tell him to go home. He didn’t know Marvin, and Marvin didn’t know him. That was the trouble. Marvin hardly knew anybody here. They had just moved into the city.
“I think I’ll just go out there with those kids and see if they’ll throw a ball to me,” he said after thinking for a while. “That’ll be all right, won’t it?”
Jeannie nodded. “Go ahead. Maybe it’s the best way, anyway.”
Marvin felt pleased because he had figured that one out without anybody’s help. He started out at a slow run toward the scattered group of boys. They were all about his size, some a little smaller, some taller. Most of them had baseball gloves. He wished he had one. You didn’t look like a baseball player without a baseball glove.
All at once he heard Jim Cassell’s voice shout out to them. “Okay, boys! Spread out! A couple of you get in center field!”
The boys scampered into position. Marvin didn’t move. Jim Cassell was having the boys start batting practice. A tall, skinny kid stood on the mound. He pitched the ball twice. Each time the boy at bat swung at the ball and missed.
The third time he connected. Marvin heard the sharp crack! It was followed by a scramble of feet not far behind him. He looked up and sure enough the ball, like a small white pill, was curving through the air in his direction!
“I got it! I got it!” he cried. He forgot that he had no glove. His sneakers slipped on the short-cut grass as he tried to get in position under the ball.
Somebody bumped into him, but he didn’t give ground. “I got it!” he yelled again.
The ball came directly at him and he reached for it with both hands. The next instant it changed to a blur and he felt it slide through his hands and strike solidly against his chest.
His heart sank. Missed it!
“Nice catch!” a boy sneered. “Where did you learn how to play ball?”
Marvin gave him a cold look and shut his lips tight to keep his anger from spilling out. Another boy who had come running over stopped and threw darts with his eyes too.
“Who do you think you are, trying to catch a ball without a glove? Next time leave it alone,” he said.
Marvin looked at his bare hands, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He walked away, sticking his hands into his pockets. He could feel the hot sun burning his neck.
“Kid!” Jim Cassell’s voice yelled from across the field. “Hey, son!”
Marvin turned.
“For Petey sakes,” Jim said, “don’t try to catch a ball without a glove! You’ll get hurt!”
Marvin looked away, his lips still pressed tight together. “Come on,” he said to Jeannie. “Let’s go home.”
“Sure,” Jeannie replied in disgust. “You can do something else besides play baseball with those boys.”
“But I don’t want to do anything else!” Marvin said, angrily. “I want to play baseball!”
Then he looked up. A tall, dark-haired boy was watching him — a boy of high-school size, with broad shoulders. He seemed to be amused about something.
H
ELLO,” said the high-school boy. “What’s the matter, fella? You look as if you’d lost your best friend!”
Marvin tried to smile, just to show that he wasn’t mad at everybody. “Nothing’s the matter,” he answered, his eyes on the ground. He kept walking with his hands in his pockets, his heels scraping the dirt and pebbles. Jeannie had hold of his arm, as if whatever suffering he was going through she was going through with him.
“Hey, wait a minute!” the tall stranger called after them as they started by. He caught Marvin’s arm in his big fist and Marvin had to stop. The smile on the stranger’s face turned into a bigger one. “You didn’t answer me. What happened? Won’t they let you play ball with them?”
“I haven’t got a glove,” Marvin said. “I’m sure I could catch those balls if I had a glove.”
The tall boy laughed. Marvin liked the sound and turned to look at Jeannie to see what she was thinking. Her blue eyes were crinkling in a cheerful grin, and Marvin knew she felt the same way he did. Whoever this tall boy was, he was nice.
“Tell you what,” the stranger said. “My name’s Barry Welton. I live about two blocks around the corner on Grant Street, to the right.”
“We live a block to the left,” Jeannie said warmly. “I’m Jeannie Allan, and this is my brother Marvin.”
“Well! That’s fine!” He made a motion with his hand. “Come on,” he said, and began to walk toward Grant Street.
“Where you going?” Marvin asked, wondering.
“To my house. I’m going to give you something. Something I think you’ll like to have.”
When they reached his house, a gray wooden frame building with yellow shutters, he asked them to wait in the living room while he ran upstairs. He came back down a couple of seconds later, and Marvin’s eyes almost bugged from his head.
Barry was carrying a bat and a glove!
“Here,” he grinned. “These are yours. Now maybe they’ll let you play. Okay?”
“Christmas!” Marvin cried. “You mean you’re giving these things to me?”
“Certainly! I’ve had that glove ever since I was your size, and I outgrew that bat years ago. It was a lucky bat for me. Maybe it’ll be a lucky one for you, too.”
“Christmas!” said Marvin again, his heart thumping excitedly. “Thanks! Thanks a lot, Barry!”
He could not make up his mind whether to return to the ball diamond or not. Those boys had not liked it because he had butted in on them by trying to catch a ball without a glove. But he had a glove now. They shouldn’t say anything.
“Come on, Jeannie. Let’s go back to the park,” he said.
She looked at him strangely, then together they walked back to the ball field.
Marvin saw that they were still having batting practice. He let Jeannie hang on to the bat while he put on the glove and ran out to the field. Two of the boys saw him with his glove, and said something to each other. He acted as if he didn’t see them. He didn’t care what they said. He had as much right here as the rest of them.
Suddenly he saw Jim Cassell gazing toward the outfield. Jim seemed to be looking directly at him, and Marvin’s heart fell.
“Kid!” Jim yelled then, motioning with his hand. “Move over a little — toward center field!”
A thrill of excitement went through him. Jim Cassell had given him an order as if he were already a member of the team!
He ran over to a spot between left and center fields. He almost prayed a ball would come his way. He had not caught a ball since last summer, but he knew how to do it. Maybe he could even show them something!
And then, even while he was thinking about it, he saw a ball hit out his way. The closer of the two boys Jim Cassell had placed in center field came running for it, shouting at the top of his lungs, “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!”
Marvin knew it was his ball more than the other boy’s. He needed only to take four or five steps backward. He reached up, trying to make his yell sound out above the other’s.
“It’s mine! Let it go! It’s mine!”
“Let him take it, Tommy!” Jim Cassell’s voice boomed from near home plate.
Marvin felt a shoulder hit his arm. It threw him off balance enough so that the ball struck the fingers of his glove and slipped right through. Bang! On his chest again, barely missing his throat. The ball dropped to the grass and bounced away.
Marvin turned, tears choking him. It was the same boy who had earlier made a nasty remark to him.
“So it’s you again,” the boy said. “With a glove, too!” He laughed. “Even with a glove you miss them. Why don’t you go home and stay there? We don’t want any farmers on this team!”
T
HIS time when Marvin and Jeannie went home there was no Barry Welton around. Marvin was glad Barry had not seen how foolish he looked on the diamond.
“I’m glad you came home, children,” their mother said, as she saw them coming through the hall into the kitchen. “We’re almost ready for supper.”
Then she caught sight of the bat and glove Marvin was carrying. Her mouth made an oval. “Where on earth did you get those things?” she cried.
“A big boy by the name of Barry Welton gave them to me,” Marvin said, and told his mother what had happened. She seemed surprised, but quite happy about Barry Welton’s gift to Marvin.
The cellar door opened and Marvin’s tall, husky father came in and stared at the bat and glove, too. Marvin had to tell all about it again. He left out one thing, though. He didn’t tell them he was going to give the bat and glove back to Barry.
He did not feel like eating much for supper, but once he started his appetite improved. He had another helping and almost finished it before he caught his mother looking at him strangely. He slowed up but it was too late.
“Marvin, what’s your hurry?”
