The Reluctant Pitcher (2 page)

Coach Hutter had Mr. McCray, Chris’s father, knock flies out to the outfielders. Mr. McCray was short and chubby just like
Chris. He said that he enjoyed helping out because it was good exercise.

Coach Hutter told the infielders to get
into their positions and gave them a ball to warm up with. Then he called Wally aside.

“I want you to practice pitching, Wally,” he said. “Get one of those extra shin guards out of the bag and go over there near
the dugout. I’ll have Chris work with you. You have a good strong arm, Wally. And you’re left-handed. You’re very much like
Del used to be. I would have made him into a great pitcher if . . . well, if that accident hadn’t happened.”

He blinked a little and went on quickly. “I’ll make you a great pitcher, Wally, just like Del was going to be. You’re nervous
yet, but you’ll get used to it. Okay?”

Wally stared at the ground. He remembered very well the accident the coach had mentioned. Wally had been there when it happened.
It was two years ago. They were in a motorboat — Mr. Hutter; his son, Del; and Wally. There was an explosion, and the
boat seemed to tear all apart. The three of them landed in the rough lakewater, and the rear of the boat, where the motor
had been, was burning fiercely.

Del and Wally were so badly hurt that they couldn’t swim to shore. But Del was injured worse. So Mr. Hutter checked to make
sure that Wally’s life preserver was keeping him afloat, then quickly pulled Del in to shore. Then he came back after Wally.
By the time they got in to shore, Del was unconscious.

The paramedics did everything they could for Del on the way to the hospital. Then the doctors took over. But it was no use.
Del died in the hospital. Wally would never forget that day. Neither would he forget that Mr. Hutter had saved his life.

Even though everyone told him that it wouldn’t have mattered if Del had been
treated sooner, Wally still wondered. If Coach Hutter hadn’t had to come back for him, would Del still be alive?

That same thought crossed his mind again now. He looked up at the coach and said, “Okay, Coach, I’ll keep trying to pitch.”

Coach Hutter called over to Chris Mc-Cray to catch for Wally. As Wally started for the canvas bag to get a shin guard to use
for a plate, he spotted a man standing nearby. His jacket was unbuttoned, and his thick gray hair was blowing in the wind.

“Hi, Mr. Lacey,” Wally greeted him. “You going to watch us practice?”

“For a while,” said Cab Lacey with a smile. His daughter wasn’t with him this time.

Cab Lacey watched while Wally practiced pitching. After a while Coach Hutter walked over to Mr. Lacey, spoke to him a bit,
then
handed Mr. Lacey the ball and bat. Mr. Lacey went to the plate and began hitting grounders to the infielders. Coach Hutter
walked over behind Wally and watched Wally pitch.

“Follow through, Wally,” he suggested. “When you let go of the ball, bring your arm around. Don’t stop it short. You’ll get
more speed and won’t tire so quickly.”

Wally tried to do as the coach suggested, but his heart just wasn’t in it.

The sun was beginning to set when Coach Hutter called it quits and rounded up the boys. By the sober expression on his face,
Wally could tell that he had some news for them.

“I won’t be here for our next game,” he said. “I have to go away on business next week and will miss Monday’s game and possibly
Wednesday’s. We’ll have to get some
one to coach you.” He turned to Chris McCray’s father. “Phil, how about you? You want to take over the job next week?”

Mr. McCray’s chubby face spread into a wide smile. “I could, but I’d be a poor substitute, Luke. How about this gentleman?”
He pointed at Cab Lacey.

“I’d be glad to,” Mr. Lacey consented. “That is, if it’s all right with the boys.”

The boys said nothing at first. They just looked at him. He looked older than either Coach Hutter or Mr. McCray, but something
about his eyes looked sharp and intelligent.

“I think Mr. Lacey will be all right,” volunteered Wally.

“So do I,” said Sawbones.

“I like the way he hit the ball down to us,” said third baseman Rocky Newcome. “Real hard, just the way I like ’em.”

Coach Hutter chuckled. “Fine. Okay, boys, you have your coach. There you are, Cab. Good luck!” He put out his hand, and Cab
Lacey shook it.

The game on Monday was with the Huskies. The Huskies had won their first two games and seemed to be about the strongest team
in the league. The Pacers had last raps. Wally had hoped that Mr. Lacey would put him in right field. He had told Mr. Lacey
that that was where he liked to play. But Mr. Lacey had him warm up to pitch.

The Huskies began rolling with their first batter. He socked one of Wally’s pitches in a clothesline drive over second for
a two-bagger, then dashed to third on a neat single just out of first baseman Dick Lewis’s reach. By the time the Pacers got
them out, the Huskies had scored three runs.

In the second inning, the Huskies scored
two more. With two outs and two men on base, Cab Lacey called time and shifted Wally to right field. He took out Alan Pierce
and had Terry Towns go to the mound.

Terry threw several warm-up pitches. Then the game resumed. The first batter blasted a hot grounder down to third. Rocky fielded
it, then stepped on third for a force-out, and the bad inning was over.

The bottom of the second inning began with the Pacers trailing the Huskies 5–0. J.J. was up. He waited out the pitcher, then
banged a three-two pitch to center field. It was caught.

Steve Collins walked. Dick Lewis hit into a double play, ending the inning.

Terry looked relaxed and calm on the mound. He wasn’t as tall as either Dick Lewis or Wally, but he could throw hard. He held
the Huskies hitless that inning.

The fans cheered and gave Terry a big
hand as he stepped up to the plate to lead off in the bottom of the third. He took a called strike, then blasted a pitch
through short for a clean single. Chris flied out to left. Then Lee Benton came up and banged a double to left center, sending
Terry around to third.

Hope swelled in Wally as he picked up his favorite bat and swung it from one shoulder to the other. Unless something tragic
happened, he would get to bat. He felt a lot better now that he was playing in right field.

The fans yelled for Sawbones to hit, but he went down swinging.

Wally stepped to the plate. There were men on second and third, and two outs.

S
trike!”

The ball brushed the outside corner of the plate.

Wally got set again. A left-hand hitter, he stood with his legs slightly apart and the bat held high over his shoulder.

In came the pitch. Knee high. Wally swung. Missed.

“Strike two!” yelled the umpire.

Wally stepped out of the box, bent over, and patted his sweaty hands in the dusty earth. Then he rubbed his hands together,
took hold of the bat, and got back into the box.

The next pitch was a ball.

And then a pitch came in even with his knees and toward the outside corner of the plate. Wally swung.

Crack!
A hard-hit grounder past the pitcher! The ball bounced out to center field for a clean single. Terry scored. A moment later
Lee scored. The throw-in was to second base, holding Wally up at first.

The crowd cheered. Wally stood with both feet on the bag, his hands on his hips. He felt like smiling, but he didn’t. He had
done what he had wanted to do. He had knocked in two runners.

Rocky Newcome popped up to the catcher, ending the half-inning. But the scoreboard looked better now: 5–2 in favor of the
Huskies.

In the top of the fourth, a ground ball was hit past Dick Lewis for a double. The next
Huskies’ batter blasted a pitch to deep right center. Wally and J.J. both ran hard after it. Wally got it, saw that the first
runner was heading for home, and pegged the ball in.

The ball didn’t reach Chris in time, and the runner scored. The hitter rounded second and made it safely to third on the throw-in.

“No, Wally!” Cab Lacey jumped out of the dugout and shouted. “Not home! Third! Third was the play!”

Wally’s throat ached. Third? Why? He had to try to stop the Huskies from getting that run, hadn’t he?

Then he knew that Mr. Lacey was right. He had a good arm, but he could not possibly have gotten the runner going home. He
should have thrown to third to keep the second runner from getting into an easy scoring position.

The next Huskies’ batter knocked a fly out
to left field. The runner tagged up and made it to home safely, proving exactly what Cab Lacey had had in mind.

“Do you see what happened there, Wally?” Mr. Lacey said, as the half-inning ended. “If you had thrown the ball to third, you
would have held the runner on second, because it was impossible to get that first runner out at home. If the man was on second,
he would not have dared to take third on the fly. The throw would be too short for him to make it, and they would not have
scored that last run.”

“I see now,” admitted Wally.

The Pacers managed to pick up two runs in the fifth. In the sixth, neither team scored. The game went to the Huskies, 7–4.

“Practice your throw-ins from right field, Wally,” suggested Cab Lacey afterwards. “Just think ahead what to do with the ball
if
it comes to you. A good rule to follow is to throw ahead of the runner, not behind him. And throw overhand, not sidearm.
Your ball won’t curve as much, and your throws will be more accurate.”

“I’ll remember,” Wally promised.

The next morning, Sawbones and Chris came over with their gloves. Wally got his glove and a bat and started out of the house
through the back door.

Sharon was in the yard doing acrobatics. She was wearing a red T-shirt, white shorts, and sneakers, and was spinning through
the air frontwards and then backwards.

“Look at that crazy sister of yours,” said Sawbones, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t do that for a million bucks.”

“You
couldn’t
do that for a
billion
bucks,” replied Chris.

They started toward the gate. All three of them stopped almost at the same time.

A girl was standing on the sidewalk, watching Sharon with fascination.

“Look,” whispered Wally. “There’s Helen Lacey.”

H
elen glanced at the boys. Her face flushed. She turned and quickly started to walk down the street. Half of the time the heels
of her shoes scraped against the sidewalk.

“Who does she think she is?” Sawbones muttered disgustedly. “Won’t even speak.”

“Maybe she’s shy,” said Wally.

“Shy, nothing,” replied Sawbones, starting toward the gate. “Come on, let’s follow her. She’s going the same direction we’re
going, anyway.”

Wally and Chris were close on Sawbones’s heels as he opened the gate and hurried out.

“Who is she?” asked Chris as the three of them tried to keep up with the girl. She was walking swiftly, her blond hair bobbing
on her head and her heels scraping the sidewalk more than ever.

“Cab Lacey’s daughter,” answered Wally. “Guess she’s either shy or stuck-up.”

“She’s stuck-up, that’s what she is,” said Sawbones. “She probably thinks she’s so pretty.”

“I don’t think she’s so pretty,” said Chris.

“Hey, Lacey!” yelled Sawbones. “What are you so stuck-up about?”

“Oh, cut it out, Sawbones,” said Wally. “If she wants to be stuck-up, that’s her business. She might never speak to us now.”

Helen turned right at the end of the block and started to cross the street. There were no streetlights, just a stop sign.
The town had only one main street and this was it. All out-of-town traffic flowed through here.

Helen glanced quickly to the left and right before stepping off the curb. Then she looked straight ahead.

A moment later, Wally heard a truck rev its motor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the vehicle pull away from the curb.
It was moving fast as it passed the boys and headed toward the intersection.

Just then, Helen stumbled. One of her shoes fell off. Wally expected her to pick it up and finish crossing the street. But
she didn’t. To his horror, she stooped down and started wiggling her foot back into her shoe!

“Hey, get out of the way! There’s a truck coming!” Wally cried.

“You nut, get back!” shouted Sawbones.

But she didn’t move from her hunched-over position in the middle of the road.

Wally didn’t wait another second. He dashed into the street and hauled Helen to her feet just as the air brakes of the truck
screeched. The truck came to a full stop a mere three feet from where they were standing.

Helen stared open-mouthed, first at the truck, then at Wally. Wally grabbed her shoe and tugged her gently to the other side
of the street. Once the truck had passed, Sawbones and Chris hurried over.

“What are you, crazy?” Sawbones yelled at the girl. “How come you stopped in the middle of the street like that?”

She didn’t say anything. She just sat abruptly on the edge of the curb. Even though her back was to them, Wally could see
that she was still frightened.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. She didn’t move. The boys looked at one another. Wally shrugged and held out her shoe. “Come on,
put this on and you’ll be fine.”

She still didn’t react. Suddenly Wally had a thought. He crouched down beside her
and touched her lightly on the arm. She started, then swiveled her head to look at him.

“Here’s your shoe,” Wally said slowly. She stared intently at his mouth as he spoke, then held her hand out for her shoe.
He handed it over, and she smiled gratefully.

Sawbones shook his head. “She can’t even say thank you,” he said disgustedly. “How stuck-up can you get?”

She didn’t turn to look at him. Not right away. Not until Wally glanced up at him. Then she looked.

And at that moment, Wally understood. He knew why she hadn’t heard the truck or their warning calls.

“You — you can’t hear, can you?” Wally asked carefully.