Dodger and Me by Jordan Sonnenblick

problem?”
    â€œBecause, dude, after this, you’ll be great friends with her!”
    Did you ever feel like someone was listening to you but completely not hearing what you were trying to tell them? Anyway, when we emerged from behind the backstop, Lizzie was wearing her jersey, her cleats, and even her mitt. “Wow, everything fits me perfectly! Thanks, Mister Orangutan!”

    You know, if anyone else called him an orangutan, Dodger would flip out, or launch into some long speech about why chimps are far superior to orangutans. But all he said to Lizzie was, “No problem. I’m a chimpanzee, though. You can recognize us by our handsome, prominent ears and lively sense of fun! My name is Dodger, and I’m a close personal friend of Willie’s. He’s told me all about you, so I thought you might want to come and help me with his top secret practice regimen.”
    I couldn’t believe it. I was also amazed at how Lizzie wasn’t getting all freaked out by any of this. I mean, signs popping up in the middle of the sidewalk, self-rolling blue carpet trails, a magical baseball field, a talking blue chimp—she was going with the flow all the way. For a horrifying second, the thought crossed my mind that Lizzie might be kind of—well— cool.
    Then she picked up a baseball and said, “I’ll be glad to, Mr. Dodger. Can you show me how to make a touchdown?”
    But believe it or not, the first half of practice went well. Dodger took the bat and made us take
turns playing the infield and catching throws back to the plate. Even though Lizzie hadn’t really played before, our infield skills were pretty similar, because of course my coaches always plunked me in right field, as far from the ball as they could put me. Dodger hit maybe a hundred grounders, and Lizzie and I only booted maybe thirty of them. Truthfully, we even kind of laughed together when one of us missed a play—which was a totally different experience from getting made fun of all through my team’s practices. Maybe because I wasn’t as nervous about getting teased, I really think I started improving after a while.
    Then Dodger stopped hitting balls, stood up straight, and said, “It’s time to put my Top Secret Coordination Improvement Plan into action.”
    As I trotted in from my position between second and third base, I asked, “And that would be …?”
    â€œHere, bud,” Dodger said. “Take this.” He whipped off his eye patch and held it out to me. My first thought was YUCK! I could only imagine what kind of horrible wound might be behind that thing, not to mention what my mom would say
about putting on a chimp’s used eye patch. When I got closer to him, though, I noticed that the eye that he’d just uncovered looked totally normal. It was also blinking repeatedly. Dodger said, “Wow, it sure is bright out here!”
    â€œUh, Dodger? You can see out of that eye?” I asked as I gingerly took the patch from him.
    â€œOh, sure, when I have to.”
    â€œThen why would you wear the eye patch?”
    â€œIt’s for my image, bud. Makes me look tough!” He leaned closer and whispered, “Plus, the lady chimps love it.” He raised his voice again. “Now put that thing over one eye and get back out in the field. Once you learn to throw and catch with the patch on, you’ll totally rule without it!”
    This sounded crazy. “Dodger, what makes you think this will make me a better player?”
    â€œWell, remember the fat guy from the Yankees who ate all the hot dogs? It worked for him. We used to play some ball out behind his orphanage when he was a kid, and he couldn’t hit to save his life until he tried the patch trick.”
    Whoa. If it was good enough for the Babe, it was good enough for me.

    I hustled back into the field and slipped the patch on between my left eye and my glasses. It felt very weird,