innings the Tigers chalked up four more runs. But the Lions garnered seven, squeezing by the Tigers, 12-11.
Stan had walked once and gotten one hit. He had also committed two errors, the first game in which he had missed more than
one grounder.
“I guess the shoe’s on the other foot now,” Eddie said to Dick after the game.
Dick frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Stan’s the goat now,” Eddie explained. “He’s gotten only one hit in the last two games and in this game he made two
errors. That’s a record for him.”
“I see what you mean,” said Dick, wishing he hadn’t asked Eddie for the explanation.
The baseball season had gone past the midway point, and so far all the Tigers had stuck it out. They were up there among the
leaders, too, which Dick had never expected.
His getting the team together had accomplished something else, also. It had helped Eddie get out of his shell and make new
friends. That alone meant an awful lot to him — and to Eddie.
But what about Stan? Did playing with the Tigers help him make new friends, too? Or did it cause him to make enemies? Dick
thought about that for a long time. Stan wasn’t one to have many friends, anyway. As a matter of fact, he seemed to be satisfied
in having only one real close friend, Art Walker. But Stan wasn’t one to make enemies, either, except one which he had probably
made within the last week. Himself.
On Tuesday, just before the game against the Foxes, Dick learned that Stan had quitthe team for the second time. Stan had informed the coach about it over the phone.
“He says he’s a jinx to us,” Coach Banks explained. “I tried to plead with him, but it didn’t do any good. Fortunately, Jim
and Pat are back, so we won’t forfeit. But not having Stan will make a big difference.”
Dick shook his head, and wondered if he should call up Stan again and try to coax him back.
He decided not to. The game was about to start.
13
T HE FOXES batted first and drew first blood. They scored twice in the first inning, and once in the second inning while the Tigers
remained literally at a standstill.
A hit had sailed by Mark that Dick thought Mark could have nabbed had he tried harder. Then Ben made a weak attempt in catching
a grounder that bounded over third base, and which Andy grabbed up in left field and pegged to second base instead of third,
all of which accounted for the Foxes’ three unearned runs.
“Come
on!”
Coach Banks exclaimed, glowering at the boys as they sat in the dugout like a covey of nervous birds. “Half ofyou guys look as if you’ve been up most of the night watching the late-late show. Snap out of it! Hustle after those balls!
What’s eating you, anyway?”
No one could tell him. Or wouldn’t.
Only Dick and Eddie knocked out hits, both singles, in the bottom half of the second inning. But even those hits were not
enough to spark the other Tigers.
In the top of the third the Foxes continued on their way, knocking Pat’s pitches all over the lot to the tune of seven runs.
Three were on errors by Clyde, whose little finger on his right hand had been injured on the first grounder hit to him. After
that he had favored the finger and could neither catch nor throw very well.
When the Tigers came to bat, Dick’s thought about calling up Stan rocked back and forth in his mind like a pendulum. One moment
he wanted to call him up, the next moment he didn’t. He didn’t know what todo. Stan might not want to play, anyway. He had refused when the coach had asked him. Why should he change his mind for Dick?
I’ll call him, anyway,
Dick decided at last.
I’ve got to try, at least.
Noticing that Tony, the Tigers’ first batter, was still at the plate, Dick took off at a fast run.
He sprinted all the way to the phone booth, dropped in the dime he had come prepared with, dialed Stan’s number, and got Stan’s
mother.
“This is Dick Farrar, Mrs. Parker,” Dick said,
Stan had walked once and gotten one hit. He had also committed two errors, the first game in which he had missed more than
one grounder.
“I guess the shoe’s on the other foot now,” Eddie said to Dick after the game.
Dick frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Stan’s the goat now,” Eddie explained. “He’s gotten only one hit in the last two games and in this game he made two
errors. That’s a record for him.”
“I see what you mean,” said Dick, wishing he hadn’t asked Eddie for the explanation.
The baseball season had gone past the midway point, and so far all the Tigers had stuck it out. They were up there among the
leaders, too, which Dick had never expected.
His getting the team together had accomplished something else, also. It had helped Eddie get out of his shell and make new
friends. That alone meant an awful lot to him — and to Eddie.
But what about Stan? Did playing with the Tigers help him make new friends, too? Or did it cause him to make enemies? Dick
thought about that for a long time. Stan wasn’t one to have many friends, anyway. As a matter of fact, he seemed to be satisfied
in having only one real close friend, Art Walker. But Stan wasn’t one to make enemies, either, except one which he had probably
made within the last week. Himself.
On Tuesday, just before the game against the Foxes, Dick learned that Stan had quitthe team for the second time. Stan had informed the coach about it over the phone.
“He says he’s a jinx to us,” Coach Banks explained. “I tried to plead with him, but it didn’t do any good. Fortunately, Jim
and Pat are back, so we won’t forfeit. But not having Stan will make a big difference.”
Dick shook his head, and wondered if he should call up Stan again and try to coax him back.
He decided not to. The game was about to start.
13
T HE FOXES batted first and drew first blood. They scored twice in the first inning, and once in the second inning while the Tigers
remained literally at a standstill.
A hit had sailed by Mark that Dick thought Mark could have nabbed had he tried harder. Then Ben made a weak attempt in catching
a grounder that bounded over third base, and which Andy grabbed up in left field and pegged to second base instead of third,
all of which accounted for the Foxes’ three unearned runs.
“Come
on!”
Coach Banks exclaimed, glowering at the boys as they sat in the dugout like a covey of nervous birds. “Half ofyou guys look as if you’ve been up most of the night watching the late-late show. Snap out of it! Hustle after those balls!
What’s eating you, anyway?”
No one could tell him. Or wouldn’t.
Only Dick and Eddie knocked out hits, both singles, in the bottom half of the second inning. But even those hits were not
enough to spark the other Tigers.
In the top of the third the Foxes continued on their way, knocking Pat’s pitches all over the lot to the tune of seven runs.
Three were on errors by Clyde, whose little finger on his right hand had been injured on the first grounder hit to him. After
that he had favored the finger and could neither catch nor throw very well.
When the Tigers came to bat, Dick’s thought about calling up Stan rocked back and forth in his mind like a pendulum. One moment
he wanted to call him up, the next moment he didn’t. He didn’t know what todo. Stan might not want to play, anyway. He had refused when the coach had asked him. Why should he change his mind for Dick?
I’ll call him, anyway,
Dick decided at last.
I’ve got to try, at least.
Noticing that Tony, the Tigers’ first batter, was still at the plate, Dick took off at a fast run.
He sprinted all the way to the phone booth, dropped in the dime he had come prepared with, dialed Stan’s number, and got Stan’s
mother.
“This is Dick Farrar, Mrs. Parker,” Dick said,
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