Look Who's Playing First Base by Matt Christopher Read Free Book Online

anxious.
    “He’s some pal,” said a voice at his elbow. A familiar voice. “You sure can pick ’em, man.”
    Mike sucked in his breath and let it out slowly. Then he looked at Don and smiled. “Don,” he said, “did anyone ever tell you
     how nice a guy you are?”
    Don grinned. “Very funny,” he said.
    Fergie stretched and delivered. The crowd was silent as the ball shot like a bullet toward the plate. Yuri drew back his bat,
     brought it around as he leaned into the pitch. Then
boom!
A long, high, sky-reaching blast! The crowd started to shout almost the same instant that Yuri’s bat connected with the ball.
     The shout seemed to grow louder as the ball climbed higher. And then the ball, like a white pill,dropped far beyond the fence, while the crowd kept cheering and cheering. Yuri loped around the bases, a broad smile on his
     face as he crossed the plate and came in to the dugout.
    One by one the guys shook his hand. Even Bunker, Art and Don did, except that they didn’t seem as enthusiastic about it.
    Mike’s grip of Yuri’s hand was probably the hardest. “Beautiful hit, Yuri!” he said happily. “You can really swing a mean
     bat!”
    Cy Williams, batting for Dave Alberti, singled. Then Cy stole second, and scored on Don’s single over second base.
    The Rascals failed to do a thing during their raps, and neither team scored in the fifth. In the top of the sixth Don doubled
     to left center, for his third hit of the game,and Gary drove him in. He was real quiet. Any other guy would be tickled pink to have gotten three hits. If Don was, he didn’t
     show it. Mike knew what the trouble was. Don was jealous. Even three hits in a game couldn’t match the spirit the crowd displayed
     when Yuri had blasted that long home run.
    Bob Layton, pinch-hitting for Dick Wallace, grounded out. Mike pounded out a single, scoring Gary, the second and last run
     that half inning.
    “Hold ’em, Checkmates!” yelled the fans.
    The Checkmates did, and won, 5 to 3.
    That evening came the news. It was a phone call from Coach Terko.
    “Don Waner handed in his uniform, Mike,” he said. “We’re out of a catcher.”
    Mike could hardly believe his ears. “I — I was beginning to think he was just talking,” he said. “I didn’t think he’d do it.”

    “I didn’t, either. I think he talked himself into it, Mike. He said it so often that he figured if he didn’t quit now the
     guys would say he just talks and never backs up his word.”
    “That could be, Coach.”
    “Don’s a good kid and everybody likes him. But he has a strong sense of pride. I tried to make him change his mind, and even
     bawled him out for blaming Yuri for losing our games. You guys play baseball because you enjoy the game. I coach it because
     I love it. But you learn to get along with one another and that winning or losing is just a part of it.”
    “Maybe Don hasn’t learned that yet, Coach,” said Mike.
    “It’s just his stubborn pride, Mike. Well, now comes the tough part. I’d like to ask a favor, Mike.”
    “Sure, Coach.”
    “I’d like you to take Don’s place. Until he comes back —
if
he comes back.”
    Mike gulped. “Sure, Coach. I — I’ll do the best I can.”

12
    M IKE HAGIN crouched behind the plate during batting practice to get acquainted with his new position. The mask felt like a basket over
     his head. And peering through it — well, he had a good idea now how a caged canary must feel.
    The chest protector and shin guards seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. And the huge mitt — How did Don ever do it? How could
     any catcher ever do it?
    But that was only half of it. The other half was his being scared whenever a batter swung at the ball. Mike was all right
     aslong as the batter didn’t swing. When the batter swung he just couldn’t catch and hold on to the ball. He didn’t know what
     made him scared. Maybe he was thinking more about the batter’s swinging than he did about catching the ball. He