Chapter 5

"So got any plans for August? Like the first weekend?" Tami asked, looking up from her book. We'd been sitting on the swings, reading together.

"Just one."

"Oh?"

"Regionals."

"I thought baseball was over after this weekend."

"Only if we lose, and I don't think we will. And if we win at state, then regionals in Idaho."

"Oh."

"Why?" I asked.

"Just wondering." Tami went back to the book she was reading.

God, I was glad that she was a lousy liar. It seems to me it's time for some sleuthing, as the Hardy Boys would say.

The game was on the line as I stepped up to the plate. Actually, we were up eleven runs, and had no outs. For a championship game, this was a yawn. We were playing a team from Vancouver. They'd used all their gas to get to the championship and had nothing left.

The pitcher let loose with a fastball that wasn't, and I smacked my second home run of the game. As I trotted around the bases, I looked up in the stands. Tami was sitting with Traci, between my folks and Robbie's dad, near the third baseline. I gave then a wave as I went by.

Robbie held up her hand, and I gave her a high five as I jumped on the plate with both feet. She stepped up to the plate and took a practice swing. The pitcher came set, and Robbie stepped back out of the batter's box. The pitcher looked disgusted and relaxed. Robbie smiled at the umpire and walked around and took her place on the other side of the plate. She was going to bat left handed.

The pitcher came set again and fired. Robbie swung awkwardly. Strike one. Robbie took a couple of practice swings, still awkward. I'd never seen her bat left, and this explained why. The pitcher smiled and fired another shot. Robbie swung again, it was almost painful to watch. Strike two. Vancouver just might get an out. The pitcher set for the third time. He reared back and threw.

Robbie swung, catching the top third of the ball. The ball came off her bat and dribbled up the third base line. The pitcher, catcher, and third baseman all charged after it as Robbie sprinted toward first.

"Let it go foul! The coach yelled from the dugout. The three players left the ball alone as it rolled down the line and settled, an inch in fair territory.

We couldn't even give them an out.

When I came up again later in the same inning, everyone was pretty disgusted. Vancouver had gotten two outs, one when Jimmy Baker stumbled between second and third, and one when Brian Lasker got hit by the ball Johnny McBride hit. Then our next four batters all got solid hits, even though they all batted left. Clay Thomas hit our eighth home run of the game, and it was my turn again.

As I stepped to the plate I thought about batting left. Hell, I thought about batting blindfolded. I just wanted them to get an out. We were up by eighteen. If they batted and scored less than nine the game would be mercy-ruled.

I looked at the coach in the box by third base. He gave me the sign for hit away. I shook my head, held my bat in front of me, and made a bunting motion. He shrugged. Just in case anyone hadn't figured out I was bunting, I squared up with the bat in front of me and waited for the pitch.

The pitcher threw. The ball was high and outside. I went after it anyway. I managed to get a piece of it and knock it down. I took off for first. As I ran, I waited for the ball to pass me on the way to first, it didn't. I found out later that the pitcher and catcher got tangled up with each other. The ball was almost a second behind me. I decided what-the-hell and kept going toward second when nobody tagged me, I turned the corner and kept going toward third.