Steal That Base! Read online

  “Gus wants all of your marshmallows,” Todd explained. The players started handing him their marshmallows. Gustavo couldn’t keep up.

  “Perez, you’re supposed to be on deck!” the manager shouted. Gus stuffed the marshmallows into his pocket and headed out of the dugout.

  “Hope he doesn’t have to slide,” said Todd. “Could get messy.”

  Gustavo hit a home run to tie the game.

  “Pass me a marshmallow,” said the second baseman.

  ylan showed up during the seventh inning stretch. The game was still tied, 1–1. The fans were singing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” with Ernie Hecker’s voice rising above the rest of the crowd.

  “I thought you were sick,” I told Dylan. I was putting some bats away. “Is getting well quick one of your new spider powers?”

  “Nah, Mom just wanted me to get more sleep,” he said. “After I got up, I decided to web-sling my way over here. How’s Sparky?”

  “Er . . . OK, I guess.” I put the last bat away and went back to the Finches’ dugout. Dylan was right behind me.

  “You can go back to the Pines’ dugout if you want,” he said. “I’ll help the Finches.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  Then I realized that Dylan had frozen in place, his mouth wide open.

  “He’s gone!” Dylan pointed at the empty web. “Sparky is gone!”

  “He might come back.”

  “Nobody smooshed him, did they?”

  “Nobody smooshed him,” I said. “That spider just dropped and ran away. I saw him do it.”

  “I hope he’s all right,” said Dylan. He crouched and peered through the fence at the infield.

  “I gotta go,” I said. I had to hurry to the Porcupines’ dugout, because the Pines were going to bat. “I’ll let you know if I see Sparky.”

  I watched for spiders on my way around the diamond, but didn’t see any. I did bump right into Spike.

  “Hey!” said Abby.

  “Sorry.”

  “Never mind. So, um . . . I can’t find another bobblehead for Petunia.” Abby said. “Can I still have yours? You did promise.”

  “I know.” When I’d made that promise, I was sure Spike could find a Spike bobblehead. No such luck. “Let’s go get it.”

  Abby followed me into the Porcupines’ dugout.

  “Hey, Spike is here!” Wayne Zane gave Spike a high five.

  “You’re great, Spike,” said Tommy. “You crack me up every time.”

  Spike toed the ground and looked bashful.

  “Be right back.” I ran and fetched the porcupine bobblehead from my locker. I opened the box to make sure the toy was still in there. That bobblehead would have looked great on my bookshelf, right next to my baseball cards. I was sad to lose it.

  “Make sure Petunia takes good care of this,” I said when I handed the box to Spike.

  The mascot did a huge exaggerated bow, then gave me a Porcupine hug, which is like a bear hug, only you’ve got to watch the quills. Spike didn’t leave the dugout, though.

  “What’s wrong?”

  The little porcupine tugged on my arm and pulled me off to the side where nobody could hear us.

  “I forgot Petunia’s seat number,” Abby whispered.

  “Oh, no!”

  “Do you remember it?”

  “No, I didn’t even look at the tickets.” I bit my lower lip and thought about it. “Maybe you can go into the stands and find her. It’s not that big a ballpark.”

  “There isn’t much time left in the seventh inning stretch,” Abby replied. “What if I don’t find her?”

  “I have an idea. Can you be batboy for a few seconds?”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Just make sure that the bat for the next batter is ready, and return the bat to the rack when he’s done. The players’ names are on the bats, and you can match up their names to the numbers on the lineup card . . .”

  “Whoa, slow down,” said Abby.

  “No time. Do the best you can,” I said. I ran through the locker room and out onto the concourse. I had to talk to my idol.

  • • •

  Victor Snapp sat in a booth in between the upper and lower decks, directly behind home plate. The door was propped open. He was hunched over a scorecard, making flecks with his pencil for every pitch. “Remember,” he said into the microphone, “Teddy ‘the Bear’ Larrabee is today’s Papa’s Pizza Pick to Click. If Larrabee gets a hit in today’s game, fans will receive a five-dollar coupon good on any large pizza.”

  Victor’s voice was deep and booming and smooth all at the same time. I practiced talking like that all the time but never came close.

  I’d only met him once, when I crashed into him and spilled nacho cheese all over his shoes. What if he remembered me? What if he was still mad?

  I’d have to try. He could make an announcement: “Petunia, please pick up your bobblehead from Spike at the Fan Services booth after the game.” I didn’t know her last name, but how many Petunias could there be at one ball game?

  Teddy knocked a fastball over the head of the third baseman.

  “There it is!” said Victor. “A base hit for the Bear! The Porcupines have a base runner, and you have a five-dollar coupon good for any large pizza at Papa’s Pizza. And it looks like Spike the Porcupine is fetching the bat! Now I’ve seen everything.”

  He saw me by the door, hit a button on the microphone stand, and waved me in.

  “You’re that batboy,” he said.

  I gulped. He did remember me. “I am. I’m sorry I spilled food on you. It was my fault.”

  “It takes two to bump into each other,” Victor said. He offered me a handshake. His hand was huge, and it buried my hand whole. “Pleased to finally meet you,” he said.

  “Me too!” I said. “I’m a big fan. I want to be a baseball announcer when I grow up.”

  “You don’t say? Do you want to announce the next batter?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Just say his name. It’s written down right there.” He pointed at his scorecard.

  “I know who’s batting!” I said. “I set up the bat rack enough times.”

  “So go for it,” Victor said. He pushed the microphone at me and undid the mute button.

  I remembered all the times I practiced at home. I could do this. I made my voice deep and booming. “Now batting for the Porcupines: the left fielder, BRRRRIAN DANNNIELS!” I heard my own voice echoing over the speakers. It was amazing.

  Victor grabbed the microphone. “Of course he means the right fielder, Danny O’Brien!” He hit the mute button.

  “Ulp. Sorry,” I whispered. I always got those two confused.

  “Easy mistake,” Victor told me. “Anyone could make it.” He picked up his pencil.

  “Thanks,” I said. I hung my head and went back down to the Porcupines’ dugout. I was so mad at myself, I forgot to ask Victor to make the announcement.

  hoped that nobody noticed my mess-up. That hope didn’t last long.

  “I heard your voice on the speakers,” Abby whispered as soon as I got back to the dugout.

  “Huh? It must have been some other kid.”

  “It sure sounded like you. What did you do? Did you find Petunia?”

  “No, I kind of blew it,” I admitted. “But we still have two more innings.”

  “I’ll go greet fans and try to spot her,” said Abby. She tucked the box with the bobblehead under her arm. “I’m off to find Petunia.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Never say that to an actor. It’s bad luck. You’re supposed to say ‘Break a leg.’”

  “How about ‘Break a quill’?”

  “Perfect!”

  Spike went out onto the field and waved at fans, then went up the stairs to shake hands with people.

  I watched the game. The Porcupines were still batting. It sure was a long inning, but the Porcupines hadn’t scored. Everything was just taking forever. I saw Gustavo reach into his
pocket, then pop something in his mouth. He was still eating marshmallows, even while he was playing!

  Sammy Solaris sat down next to me.

  “Hey, was that you on the PA system?”

  “Nope,” I lied. “It was some other kid.”

  “Nah, it was you,” said Sammy.

  “OK, yeah. It was me. I messed up the name. I got Brian confused with Danny.”

  “Ah, don’t worry about it,” said Wayne. “Even they can’t tell each other apart—can you, Danny?” He looked at a player returning to the dugout.

  “I’m Brian.”

  “See what I mean?” said Wayne.

  The seventh inning was finally over. Most of the players grabbed their gloves and headed back to the field. Sammy stayed behind because he was the DH, or designated hitter. The DH hits instead of the pitcher.

  “Now pitching for the Porcupines . . . Nate Link!” said Victor Snapp.

  Nate is what they call a sidewinder. Instead of pitching overhand, he pitches from the side. He threw a few warm-up pitches to Wayne Zane behind the plate. Wayne had to reach way out to catch one. He didn’t look too happy.

  “Uh-oh. Looks like Nate doesn’t have his best stuff today,” said Sammy.

  Pokey and Spike came out and played catch with an oversize baseball. Spike kept throwing the ball far away from Pokey. When Pokey ran to get the ball, Spike turned to the audience and grinned. The fans laughed.

  “I can give you a baseball card now,” I told Sammy. “Dylan brought me my binder.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ll have to tell Wendy that her uncle can’t steal a base no matter how hard he puts his mind to it. Even if I get to bat again, and even if I reach base, Grumps will never give me the sign.”

  “He might,” I said. “In the right situation.”

  I got the binder and flipped through the pages. I looked at the stat for SB, or stolen bases.

  “If you do give me one, it doesn’t have to be a world-class base stealer,” said Sammy. “Just someone who steals a base once in a while.”

  “How about this guy?” I gave him my 2010 Bengie Molina card.

  “Ha. Good one,” Sammy said, but he handed the card back to me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Molina’s a good hitter and a great catcher. But he’s a slow runner. If me and him and a snail and a turtle were in a race . . .” Sammy thought it over. “Well, the turtle would win, but I’d beat the snail and Bengie Molina.”

  “That’s the point! He’s still stolen a few bases.” I showed Sammy the back of the card. “See? Three stolen bases. And this doesn’t show the one he stole in the playoffs.”

  “He must have gotten lucky.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe the situation was just right. Anyone can steal a base in the right situation.”

  “I don’t know.” Sammy looked at the card. “You know, I do like Bengie. He’s a great player. I like all three of the Molinas.” Bengie had two brothers who also played Major League Baseball. All three Molinas were catchers. “So if Bengie can steal a base, I can too?” he asked.

  “In the right situation,” I told him.

  “How do I know when that is?”

  “You’ll get the sign.”

  “The sign from the manager?” Sammy asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I heard that,” said Grumps from the other end of the bench. “Don’t hold your breath.”

  “Just wait for the right situation,” I whispered.

  “All right,” Sammy whispered back. “Me and Bengie are going to steal a base for Wendy.” He tucked the card in his pocket.

  Grumps didn’t say anything, so I guess he didn’t hear that.

  • • •

  The first batter for the Finches in the top of the eighth inning was Gustavo. He popped a marshmallow in his mouth, went to the plate, and hit his second home run of the game.

  “Now we’re losing,” said Sammy. “I don’t like that.”

  “Him and his marshmallows,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just a fluke.” I didn’t want to give Sammy any ideas. He couldn’t steal a base if he filled up on marshmallows.

  Spike came back to the dugout before the next batter got to the plate.

  “Your porcupine friend is here again,” said Sammy.

  “Yeah.” I stood up so Abby could whisper to me.

  “I can’t find Petunia anywhere,” she said. “It’s just a sea of people. And she’s so small. What am I going to do?”

  Did I dare go back to Victor Snapp? I gulped. Did I have a choice? Hmm . . . I did.

  There was one other person at the ballpark practically everyone could hear.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told Abby.

  went to the seating area above the visitors’ dugout. I was looking for the man with the loudest mouth in all of Pine City: Ernie Hecker.

  I knew his voice, but I didn’t know what he looked like. I had never met him. I only knew his name because everybody knew it. “There goes Ernie Hecker again,” people would say every time he hollered.

  I needed something to happen. Something Ernie would have to comment on.

  Sammy was right. The Pines’ pitcher, Nate Link, did not have his best stuff going on. He’d given up that home run to Gustavo, and then he had walked a batter. Nate was one pitch away from walking the next batter.

  He threw ball four. The batter took first, and the runner on first moved to second.

  I waited for Ernie to yell something snarky. He didn’t. Everyone in the section was just watching the game.

  Maybe Ernie had left early?

  The next batter stepped into the box. It was Jonny, the sleepy catcher. Nate sped a fastball by him. The umpire called it a ball. The next pitch got by the catcher (both catchers) and rolled to the backstop. Wayne went to get it.

  “That’s a wild pitch,” said Victor Snapp, “and Wayne Zane seems to have tripped over somebody crawling around in foul territory.”

  I leaned over the dugout fence and craned my neck to see what was going on. Dylan was crawling around in the dirt between the dugout and the backstop. The umpire tapped him on the shoulder. Dylan stood up, and the umpire spoke to him.

  “It’s a batboy,” said Victor Snapp. “A batboy was crawling around in foul territory. What was he doing?”

  “HELPING NATE LINK FIND THE PLATE!” Ernie Hecker answered.

  Every single person in the ballpark must have heard him. A lot of them laughed.

  And I had found my man. Ernie was in the third row. He wore glasses and a red polo shirt and was mostly bald.

  “Excuse me.” I edged past some fans and got to Ernie. The seat next to him was open.

  “Hi,” I said. “Can I please sit here a minute?”

  “Help yourself,” said Ernie. “It’s my brother’s seat, but he’s not here today.”

  I sat down. Dylan was walking back to the visitors’ dugout with his shoulders slumped.

  “So, who are you?” asked Ernie.

  “I’m your second biggest fan,” I told him.

  “I’m an accountant. Accountants do not have fans.”

  “I’m a fan of the stuff you say during the game. You know, like that joke you just made.”

  “It’s called ballpark patter,” he said. “I do take pride in my patter. I admit it.”

  “Your ballpark patter is great,” I said.

  The woman on the other side of me looked at me and shook her head.

  “Anyway, I’m your second biggest fan,” I told Ernie. “Your first biggest fan is my friend Petunia. Will you please wave to her? It would make her day.”

  “Who’s Petunia?” Ernie asked.

  “She’s right over there.” I started to point and stopped. “I don’t know where she is,” I said. “But if you just say ‘Hi, Petunia!’ She’ll hear you.”

  “‘Hi, Petunia’?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You want me to say ‘Hi, Petunia.’ What’s the j
oke?”

  I shook my head. “No joke.”

  “There must be,” said Ernie. “It’s like when I ask you for a henway.”

  “What’s a henway?”

  “Three or four pounds.” He laughed and slapped his knee.

  I thought about it. “No, it’s not like that.”

  “Or like when I say, can you lend me a hammerfor.”

  “What’s a hammerfor?”

  “Pounding!” He laughed even harder at that one.

  “It really isn’t a joke,” I told him. “Please say ‘Hi, Petunia.’ She’ll hear you and wave, and then you wave back.”

  “No way am I doing it,” Ernie said. “I am not saying ‘Hi, Petunia.’”

  “Please?”

  “Hi, Petunia. Hi, Petunia. Hi, Petunia.” He repeated it several more times. He was loud even when he wasn’t trying. “Is that supposed to sound like something else? I don’t get it.”

  “Look.” The woman next to me pointed. A little girl was standing on the steps, three sections over. She was looking our way. She waved.

  I waved back.

  The little girl waved again.

  I saw a big G on the stair. I counted: ten rows back.

  Petunia!

  Ernie didn’t wave.

  “She’s my biggest fan?” said Ernie. “She’s only four years old, tops.”

  “Yeah. Thanks!” I said. I rushed through the row—“Excuse me, excuse me”—and back to the aisle.

  “I still don’t get it!” Ernie shouted after me.

  y the time I got back to the Porcupine’s dugout, the score was 4–1, not in the Pines’ favor. And the Finches were still batting.

  Abby was fielding a foul ball, which wasn’t easy to do in a porcupine costume. The fans laughed and clapped for her.

  “Section G, ten rows back,” I told her.

  “Great,” she said. She grabbed the box with the bobblehead, bolted from the dugout, and ran across the field. She forgot the inning was still going.

  The second base umpire tried to stop her, but she ran right past him. The fans cheered.

  “Spike is storming the field,” said Victor Snapp. “The game is in a brief delay while an umpire chases a porcupine across the field. And now I really have seen everything.”