KENNY PARKS hit a dribbler down the third-base line. The Ranger scooped it up and threw Kenny out.
Two away.
Peter walked. Freddie Turner tried twice to bunt. Both times he fouled the ball. The third time he swung and hit a clothesline drive to short. The shortstop fumbled the ball, then picked it up and threw Johnny out in a close play at third.
The Rangers came up, anxious to even the score or get ahead. They began to yell at Davie.
“Don't let them bother you, Davie, ol boy!” Marty shouted. “You're better than they are! Just throw 'em in to me!”
But the Rangers pounded Davie's pitches hard. Before the inning was over, they had scored four runs.
“Let's get those runs back,” Manager Davis said when the boys ran in. “Davie, you're up first. Get a hit, boy.”
Davie fouled the first pitch over the backstop. The next two pitches were wide. Then he drove a hot grounder to second which looked like a sure hit. But the Rangers' second baseman speared it with his glove and rifled it to first.
“Out!” shouted the ump.
Marty went to the plate. He dusted it off with his cap, then waited for the pitch.
“Ball one!”
“Ball two!”
“Stee-rike!”
Then Marty hit a chest-high pitch out to left center for a double.
“There you are!” Manager Davis said excitedly. “Marty started it. Let's keep it going!”
I wish Michael were here, thought Johnny. This game is getting more exciting every minute. Michael would be able to tell by the noise. He would hear just about everything and enjoy it almost as much as anybody else.
Nobody would be faking a cheer for Johnny, either. Johnny had made Marty and the rest of the team understand that. And no matter what Johnny did, he would tell Michael the truth. Every bit of it. If Johnny struck out, he'd tell Michael so. If he missed a fly, or threw to second when he should have thrown to third, he would tell Michael so. If he hit a double, or a triple, he would tell Michael that, too.
But then, what if Michael did not believe him? That was the thing Johnny was afraid of. What if Michael did not believe him?
Johnny was sick at the thought. How long could he stand it with Michael feeling like that about him? They couldn't go on like that forever, could they?
A loud shout brought Johnny's attention back to the game. He saw the white pill-like baseball hopping to the outfield, and Butchie running down the first-base line. A hit for Butchie! Marty circled third and galloped for all he was worth down the long stretch for home. He had his cap squeezed in his hand.
“Come on, Marty! Run, run, run!”
Then, just as the ball hit the ground for the hop to the catcher, Marty crossed the plate.
Johnny laughed. It was fun to watch fat little Marty run bases.
Butchie had reached second on the play. Now Stevie was up. Stevie fouled the first pitch, then popped out to the catcher.
Two outs. Buddy Greenfield was up.
“Stee-rike!” yelled the ump.
“Stee-rike two!” he yelled again.
Hit it, Buddy! Johnny said to himself. I want to hit this inning, too!
The pitcher hurled two wide ones. Buddy fouled the next pitch, then walked.
“Okay, Johnny,” Manager Davis said. “The tying run is on first. Get a nice bingle, kid.”
“Ball!” shouted the ump as the first pitch steamed in just outside the plate.
Then, “Stee-rike!”
Johnny fouled the next pitch to the left of third base. Then he let another pitch go by. It was inside for ball two.
Two and two now. Johnny held his bat ready. He watched the pitcher stretch, throw. The ball zipped in knee-high. Johnny swung. Swish!
“Strike three!” shouted the ump.
Johnny stood still for a few seconds. Strike three! He had struck out!
He dropped the bat and ran out to the outfield. He kept his eyes down. Ducks on the pond and he had struck out. Could he tell that to Michael? Would Michael believe him?
Johnny picked up his glove and wiped the sweat rolling down his face. Even if he did not tell Michael, his father would. Johnny tore a handful of grass from the ground and hurled it back down. The wind scattered the tiny blades.
Michael has got to like me, he thought, no matter how poor a player I am! I'm his brother!