— Dave Gessini, catching! Play ball!”
No sooner had the words left his lips than Jim Hurwitz nudged Bobby on the arm.
“Bobby, look!”
Bobby turned. His breath caught.
“Kirby!” he cried.
Kirby was coming around the corner of the dugout. He had on his cap and jersey, and he was carrying his mitt. He walked up
to Coach Barrows. He said something and Coach Barrows looked at him in surprise. Then Coach Barrows cracked a wide, happy
grin and gave Kirby a friendly tap on the shoulder.
“Thataboy, Kirby! I’m glad you came!” Bobby could just make out the coach’s words above the tooting horns.
The Redbirds starting line-up was almost the same as it had been the other day. The only difference was that this time Tony
batted ahead of Jerry Echols.
The team ran out to the field. Dave, with his chest protector and shin guards buckled on, caught three warm-up pitches from
Cappie, then heaved the ball to second.
The Mustangs lead-off man took a called strike. Then he knocked a one-hop bounder to Cappie, who caught the ball and threw
the runner out at first. The ball zipped around the horn.
“Way to go, Cappie!” Bobby shouted. He was smiling. He felt good. He was glad that Kirby had come. He wished that Kirby was
playing. With Kirby on first base, Bobby would never have to worry how wild a peg he threw.
Kirby would stretch out his legs and arms as if they were made of rubber and
thut!
he’d have the ball.
A pop-up to Tony and a bouncing ball to Mark Donahue ended the top of the first inning.
Bobby received a rousing cheer as he stepped to the plate.
Smack!
The ball sailed over third base, curved and struck the ground in foul territory.
“Come on, Bobby!” a fan yelled. “Straighten ’em out!”
Bobby took a high pitch. Ball one.
Another pitch — high and wide. Ball two.
The red-headed southpaw for the Mustangs backed off the mound. He rubbed the ball in his hands and climbed to the mound again.
He wound up, raised his right leg, and delivered. The ball camein like a white bullet. Bobby pulled back his bat and swung.
Crack!
A line drive over short!
Bobby dropped his bat and scooted for first. He made his turn and raced for second. His cap and helmet fell off, but he kept
going. He saw the center fielder pick up the ball. Bobby crossed second and headed for third. He ran hard, his sneakers kicking
up dirt. He watched the third-base coach waving him on.
“Come on, come on, come on!” the coach kept yelling.
Bobby was a short distance away from the bag when he saw the ball bounce at his right. The Mustangs third baseman went after
it. He caught the ball, started after Bobby with it.
“Hit it!” cried the coach.
Bobby slid toward the bag, just enoughout of reach of the third baseman, and hooked the bag with the toe of his sneakers.
“Safe!” yelled the umpire.
A triple! Bobby stood up and brushed himself off. His ears rang with the whooping cries of the fans and the blaring horns
of the cars.
Al Dakin wiggled at the plate, and finally struck out. Bobby got nervous. After a hit like that, he wished that somebody would
knock him in.
Toby Warren came through. He punched a single over second. Bobby scored. Jim Hurwitz flied out to left. The coach held Toby
on first. Then Dave belted a grounder to short. Toby was running when Dave connected. The shortstop missed the ball, and Toby
bolted for third.
The throw-in was wild and Toby scored.Earl Lowe fanned Mark, ending the inning. The score was: Redbirds — 2, Mustangs — 0.
“I told you guys a couple of hits and Lowe would go to pieces,” Jim said as he ran out across the diamond with Bobby and Al
Dakin.
“Let’s hope he stays that way,” said Al, smiling.
Cappie threw six pitches to the first Mustangs batter and walked him. The next hitter bunted. Cappie raced in. He slid on
the grass as he started to field the ball, and could not make the play.
Men on first and second. No outs. A good time for a
No sooner had the words left his lips than Jim Hurwitz nudged Bobby on the arm.
“Bobby, look!”
Bobby turned. His breath caught.
“Kirby!” he cried.
Kirby was coming around the corner of the dugout. He had on his cap and jersey, and he was carrying his mitt. He walked up
to Coach Barrows. He said something and Coach Barrows looked at him in surprise. Then Coach Barrows cracked a wide, happy
grin and gave Kirby a friendly tap on the shoulder.
“Thataboy, Kirby! I’m glad you came!” Bobby could just make out the coach’s words above the tooting horns.
The Redbirds starting line-up was almost the same as it had been the other day. The only difference was that this time Tony
batted ahead of Jerry Echols.
The team ran out to the field. Dave, with his chest protector and shin guards buckled on, caught three warm-up pitches from
Cappie, then heaved the ball to second.
The Mustangs lead-off man took a called strike. Then he knocked a one-hop bounder to Cappie, who caught the ball and threw
the runner out at first. The ball zipped around the horn.
“Way to go, Cappie!” Bobby shouted. He was smiling. He felt good. He was glad that Kirby had come. He wished that Kirby was
playing. With Kirby on first base, Bobby would never have to worry how wild a peg he threw.
Kirby would stretch out his legs and arms as if they were made of rubber and
thut!
he’d have the ball.
A pop-up to Tony and a bouncing ball to Mark Donahue ended the top of the first inning.
Bobby received a rousing cheer as he stepped to the plate.
Smack!
The ball sailed over third base, curved and struck the ground in foul territory.
“Come on, Bobby!” a fan yelled. “Straighten ’em out!”
Bobby took a high pitch. Ball one.
Another pitch — high and wide. Ball two.
The red-headed southpaw for the Mustangs backed off the mound. He rubbed the ball in his hands and climbed to the mound again.
He wound up, raised his right leg, and delivered. The ball camein like a white bullet. Bobby pulled back his bat and swung.
Crack!
A line drive over short!
Bobby dropped his bat and scooted for first. He made his turn and raced for second. His cap and helmet fell off, but he kept
going. He saw the center fielder pick up the ball. Bobby crossed second and headed for third. He ran hard, his sneakers kicking
up dirt. He watched the third-base coach waving him on.
“Come on, come on, come on!” the coach kept yelling.
Bobby was a short distance away from the bag when he saw the ball bounce at his right. The Mustangs third baseman went after
it. He caught the ball, started after Bobby with it.
“Hit it!” cried the coach.
Bobby slid toward the bag, just enoughout of reach of the third baseman, and hooked the bag with the toe of his sneakers.
“Safe!” yelled the umpire.
A triple! Bobby stood up and brushed himself off. His ears rang with the whooping cries of the fans and the blaring horns
of the cars.
Al Dakin wiggled at the plate, and finally struck out. Bobby got nervous. After a hit like that, he wished that somebody would
knock him in.
Toby Warren came through. He punched a single over second. Bobby scored. Jim Hurwitz flied out to left. The coach held Toby
on first. Then Dave belted a grounder to short. Toby was running when Dave connected. The shortstop missed the ball, and Toby
bolted for third.
The throw-in was wild and Toby scored.Earl Lowe fanned Mark, ending the inning. The score was: Redbirds — 2, Mustangs — 0.
“I told you guys a couple of hits and Lowe would go to pieces,” Jim said as he ran out across the diamond with Bobby and Al
Dakin.
“Let’s hope he stays that way,” said Al, smiling.
Cappie threw six pitches to the first Mustangs batter and walked him. The next hitter bunted. Cappie raced in. He slid on
the grass as he started to field the ball, and could not make the play.
Men on first and second. No outs. A good time for a
Similar Books
