field in the top of the sixth.
The Yellow Jackets’ lead-off man laced a pitch between first and second for a double, then scored on a single to center field
that drew a terrific applause from the Yellow Jacket rooters. 4–4!
Terry saw Tony grab up a handful of dust and toss it angrily aside.
“Stick in there, Tony!” Terry yelled. “Let’s not give up, man!”
Tony looked at him and smiled as he lifted his hand with the V for victory sign. “We’ll pull together! Okay?”
“Okay!” cried Terry, and thought,
Was the atmosphere really thawing between him and Tony?
It was hard to tell just yet.
The next Yellow Jacket popped a fly to short. One away.
Woody caught Tony’s soft throw, rubbed the ball a minute, then steppedback on the mound. He checked the runner on second, stretched and threw. A solid blow to Rich in center field! He caught the
fly and rifled it to third. But the runner, after tagging up at second, slid safely under Ed’s outstretched glove.
“Two away!” Tony shouted, waving two fingers at the outfielders. “One more to get!”
The next hitter came to the plate and Terry took a dozen steps in toward the infield. He remembered that the hitter didn’t
have much power. The guy had knocked two singles, and both were shallow drives over short.
Woody mopped his brow with a handkerchief, stepped on the mound, got his signal from Stu, and pitched.
Crack!
Another solid blow over short!
Even as Terry ran in to field the ball hesaw the runner on third already sprinting for home. He wanted to shout “Tony, come here!,” but realized that he didn’t have
to. Tony was on his way toward him.
Terry pegged him the ball, and in one swift motion Tony whipped it home. Stu caught the ball near the plate and put it on
the runner as he slid in under a cloud of dust.
“Out!” shouted the ump.
Three outs! The Forest Lakers’ fans thundered their unanimous approval.
Tony waited for Terry to reach him, and both ran off the field together. “Nice play, Terry!” Tony exclaimed. “You played your
position perfectly!”
Terry grinned. “He hadn’t hit too far before,” he said. “I figured he wouldn’t hit too far this time either.”
“Hey, what a memory!” cried Tony.
“With my kind of arm I need it!” Terry chuckled happily.
“Yeah. I guess I’ll just have to run out to left field everytime a ball is hit to you,” Tony said, laughing.
The crowd gave Woody a big hand as he stepped to the plate. A moment later they let out a sad “Ah! Too bad, Woody!” as he
popped out to short.
Jeff didn’t do any better, grounding out to third for the second out.
“Come on, Tony!” Terry cried as Tony stepped to the plate. “Get on!”
Electric silence charged the air as Tony waited for the first pitch to come in. It blazed in chest high and he swung.
Crack!
The ball streaked past the pitcher to the outfield for a single and once again the Forest Lakers’ bench clambered out and
cheered with gusto.
“Get a hit, Terry!” Tony yelled from first base. “Get a hit!”
Terry felt the sweat on his hands as he gripped the bat and waited for the pitch. It came in, but it was high.
No!
a voice inside him warned.
Don’t swing!
He let it go by.
“Ball!” cried the ump.
The next pitch was lower. It grooved the heart of the plate and Terry swung. The blow was solid and sounded like music to
Terry’s ears. He saw the ball sail like a rocket out to deep right center field. Even as he dropped his bat and bolted to
first he heard the victorious cheer erupting from the Forest Lakers’ fans. He crossed first, second, and was held up by the
coach at third.
Then he saw the fans spilling out ofthe stands, and the guys running toward him, led by Tony himself.
“Nice smash, Terry!” Tony cried, pumping his hand. “You won the ball game, man!”
Terry blinked happily. “Like we said…”
“I know,” Tony interrupted. “We have to pull together. And we did, didn’t
The Yellow Jackets’ lead-off man laced a pitch between first and second for a double, then scored on a single to center field
that drew a terrific applause from the Yellow Jacket rooters. 4–4!
Terry saw Tony grab up a handful of dust and toss it angrily aside.
“Stick in there, Tony!” Terry yelled. “Let’s not give up, man!”
Tony looked at him and smiled as he lifted his hand with the V for victory sign. “We’ll pull together! Okay?”
“Okay!” cried Terry, and thought,
Was the atmosphere really thawing between him and Tony?
It was hard to tell just yet.
The next Yellow Jacket popped a fly to short. One away.
Woody caught Tony’s soft throw, rubbed the ball a minute, then steppedback on the mound. He checked the runner on second, stretched and threw. A solid blow to Rich in center field! He caught the
fly and rifled it to third. But the runner, after tagging up at second, slid safely under Ed’s outstretched glove.
“Two away!” Tony shouted, waving two fingers at the outfielders. “One more to get!”
The next hitter came to the plate and Terry took a dozen steps in toward the infield. He remembered that the hitter didn’t
have much power. The guy had knocked two singles, and both were shallow drives over short.
Woody mopped his brow with a handkerchief, stepped on the mound, got his signal from Stu, and pitched.
Crack!
Another solid blow over short!
Even as Terry ran in to field the ball hesaw the runner on third already sprinting for home. He wanted to shout “Tony, come here!,” but realized that he didn’t have
to. Tony was on his way toward him.
Terry pegged him the ball, and in one swift motion Tony whipped it home. Stu caught the ball near the plate and put it on
the runner as he slid in under a cloud of dust.
“Out!” shouted the ump.
Three outs! The Forest Lakers’ fans thundered their unanimous approval.
Tony waited for Terry to reach him, and both ran off the field together. “Nice play, Terry!” Tony exclaimed. “You played your
position perfectly!”
Terry grinned. “He hadn’t hit too far before,” he said. “I figured he wouldn’t hit too far this time either.”
“Hey, what a memory!” cried Tony.
“With my kind of arm I need it!” Terry chuckled happily.
“Yeah. I guess I’ll just have to run out to left field everytime a ball is hit to you,” Tony said, laughing.
The crowd gave Woody a big hand as he stepped to the plate. A moment later they let out a sad “Ah! Too bad, Woody!” as he
popped out to short.
Jeff didn’t do any better, grounding out to third for the second out.
“Come on, Tony!” Terry cried as Tony stepped to the plate. “Get on!”
Electric silence charged the air as Tony waited for the first pitch to come in. It blazed in chest high and he swung.
Crack!
The ball streaked past the pitcher to the outfield for a single and once again the Forest Lakers’ bench clambered out and
cheered with gusto.
“Get a hit, Terry!” Tony yelled from first base. “Get a hit!”
Terry felt the sweat on his hands as he gripped the bat and waited for the pitch. It came in, but it was high.
No!
a voice inside him warned.
Don’t swing!
He let it go by.
“Ball!” cried the ump.
The next pitch was lower. It grooved the heart of the plate and Terry swung. The blow was solid and sounded like music to
Terry’s ears. He saw the ball sail like a rocket out to deep right center field. Even as he dropped his bat and bolted to
first he heard the victorious cheer erupting from the Forest Lakers’ fans. He crossed first, second, and was held up by the
coach at third.
Then he saw the fans spilling out ofthe stands, and the guys running toward him, led by Tony himself.
“Nice smash, Terry!” Tony cried, pumping his hand. “You won the ball game, man!”
Terry blinked happily. “Like we said…”
“I know,” Tony interrupted. “We have to pull together. And we did, didn’t
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