Screaming at the Ump by Audrey Vernick Page A

said.
    â€œAwesome!”
    â€œYou wanna help?” he asked.
    When I was little, I did sometimes help on meatball night. I liked trying to make them all the same size, perfect spheres of meat. But I was kind of itching to get back to some BTP stuff. “Another time, okay?”
    â€œYou got it, chief.”
    ***
    Students were just finishing up afternoon break, and I could see that they were starting to hang out in groups now. Even June Sponato had found herself a little posse.
    Like always, Pop had a group of students gathered around him. Pop had seen a lot in his career as a major league umpire and at all the umpiring jobs he’d had on his way to the big leagues. He said he also learned a lot about umping from teaching it, whatever that means. Anyway, there was often a whole circle around him, nodding. This time one guy was taking notes.
    Meanwhile, Dad was talking seriously with someone, in his teacher way, rolling back on his heels as he stood there. I looked closer and realized it was the same guy I’d seen him talking to the past few days.
    â€œWho’s that?” Zeke asked.
    â€œI haven’t figured out most of their names yet.”
    Dad looked up, saw me, and smiled. “Hey, Case! Zeke!”
    We went over.
    â€œThis is Patrick MacSophal. He’s already showing a lot of promise.”
    The guy, a little older and a lot taller than the average student, smiled.
    â€œMacSophal? Like Jimmy MacSophal?” Zeke said.
    â€œSame last name, yeah,” the guy said.
    â€œAny relation?” Zeke asked. This guy was clean-shaven and J-Mac had been known for his overgrown beard, so it was hard to tell if there was any family resemblance. When you thought J-Mac, you thought BEARD.
    The guy gave a sort of shrug/head-shake gesture and shuffled off.
    â€œOoooooooooooooookay,” Zeke said.
    â€œWell, would YOU want to be related to a pitcher who’s only remembered for some steroid scandal?” I said.
    â€œLet it be,” Dad said. “We’re getting back to work now. Zeke, you finished all the befores?”
    â€œYup.”
    â€œGreat. Why don’t you go find something to eat, then you can come watch or help or whatever you want.”
    â€œHow’re they looking?” I asked.
    â€œThere are some,” he said.
    â€œI have to stay at school late tomorrow,” I told him while I still remembered.
    â€œYou in trouble?
    Zeke nodded his head far back and forward.
    Pop walked by and swatted him on the head. With all that hair for cushioning, I wondered if he even felt it.
    â€œJust a newspaper meeting,” I said.
    â€œOh, good,” Dad said. “You’ve been waiting for that.”
    â€œAnd also—Steamboat’s not here this year,” I started.
    â€œI know, Casey. I understand that you’re disappointed—”
    â€œWell, no. I mean, I figured you might have forgotten that he’s the one who handles You Suck, Ump! Day, and—”
    Here Dad slapped his forehead and looked a little nauseated.
    â€œBut listen,” I continued. “I’ve got this. I’m going to do it. It’ll be the thing I do from now on, okay?”
    Dad didn’t really have time to say no, or try to think of someone else who could handle it, because students were waiting to do warm-up exercises. Some guys were digging in their bags for sweatshirts. Clouds had rolled in, and the almost-cold in the air reminded me that fall was going to start for real soon.
    Dad nodded slowly, like he was still thinking about it while also agreeing to it. “You’ve got it,” he said. “Mrs. G. is usually involved too—talk to her about flyers and anything else you might want. And ask for help if you need it.”
    Look at us: Zeke was the official A/V guy, and I was running You Suck, Ump! Day
. We high-fived, then walked out to the bleachers to watch.
    Students were split up onto three different fields. (It was