runs scored
before the Tigers were able to stop them.
“Maybe it would’ve been better if I had stayed home and let the game be forfeited,” Stan said gloomily as he trotted in to
the dugout.
“Don’t say that, Stan,” Dick said. “I’d hate to lose a game by forfeit.”
“And don’t say that you don’t want to play because we can win without you,” Coach Banks grunted at Stan. “We need you at
every
game.”
Stan gazed straight ahead, his cap tilted back on his head, his arms crossed over his chest. He offered no comment, as if
this time silence spoke louder than any words he could think of.
What an egotist!
Dick wanted to shout at him.
I’d like to knock that bullishness out of your head, buster!
“Pick up a bat, Stan,” the coach’s voice broke into his thoughts. “You’re up third.”
He got up, dragged himself to the pile of bats, and picked one out. Eddie and Dick exchanged a look, then shook their heads.
“I almost wish he didn’t show up,” Eddie muttered softly.
“I know what you mean,” said Dick. “But let’s hope he makes up for it.”
Mark and Ben were thrown out on grounders. Then Stan, after taking two called strikes, smashed a high fly to center that was
caught for the third out.
Dick and Eddie looked at each other and shook their heads.
The Wolves picked up another run in the second inning, and two in the third to lead the Tigers 6-0. Then, in the bottom of
the third, the Tigers began to unleash power that Dick didn’t know they had. Tony started it with a double over second base,
followed by singles off the bats of Art, Mark and Ben. Again Stan failed to hit safely, and went back to the dugout, sulking.
The Tigers ended up by scoring seven runs that inning, a feat that restored their waning confidence. Especially Dick’s.
The fourth and fifth innings went by with both teams playing equally good baseball. Then, in the top of the sixth, the field
looked like a shower of baseballs as the Wolves’bats again knocked Art’s pitches all over the lot, scoring five runs. The Tigers were unable to send home more than two, and
the game went to the Wolves, 11-9.
“I
knew
I should’ve stayed home,” Dick overheard Stan say to Art as they started off the field.
“Why?” Art said. “We almost beat them, didn’t we?”
“Almost — phooey!” Stan snorted.
Dick caught up with them, Eddie at his heels. “Stan,” he said, “thanks for coming. I really appreciate it.”
“All I did was keep us from losing by forfeit,” Stan said. “I didn’t get a single lousy hit.”
On Thursday, the Tigers tackled the Lions. This time, batting first, they seemed to be starting off on the right foot. Mark
lambasted big Bert Quinn’s pitch to left center for a triple and scored on Ben’s single toright. Stan uncorked a long fly to center, but the Lions’ center fielder made a spectacular catch and Stan returned to the
dugout, ignoring the comments — “Tough luck, Stan,” and “Nice hit, anyway, Stan” — that the Tiger fans showered at him.
Andy and Clyde kept up the onslaught. Then both Dick and Eddie grounded out to end the half-inning. Three runs had scored.
The Lions managed to get one across the plate during their turn at bat. The second inning turned out better than the first
for the Tigers. They tallied four runs to the Lions’ one. Again Stan failed to get a hit. Dick did no better.
In the top of the third the Tigers’ bats were still unleashing furious power, but it was as if each hit were labeled for a
specific fielder. None of the three Lions’ fielders — the shortstop, the center fielder, the first baseman — had to move a
foot out of his way to catch the ball hit to him.
The Lions’ bats rang out as loudly, but produced more satisfying results. Three runs crossed the plate before Stan’s long
throw from short to first, after he fielded a sizzling grounder, made the third out. Tigers 7, Lions 5.
In the next three
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