Thumb on a Diamond by Ken Roberts Page B

watch the kids in the field and see what they were doing.
    Big Bette went up to the plate, carrying a huge bat on her shoulder. The fielders moved in close, thinking that if Big Bette did hit the ball it sure wouldn’t go far.
    The players from Kamloops started to yell things at Big Bette, saying she couldn’t hit and looked too weak to even swing the bat.
    â€œHey!” yelled Susan. “Be nice! That’s our friend up there and she can’t help it if she’s small!”
    â€œSusan,” said Dad without turning his head.
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œWhat they’re doing is part of the game. They’re trying to rattle the batter. They can do that. All teams do that. When they’re batting, they’ll yell at our pitcher. It’s part of baseball.”
    â€œI memorized the rules,” said Susan, “and that is not in there at all.”
    â€œTrust me, they can do it,” said Dad.
    â€œSo we can make up insults and yell at their team?” asked Robbie. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
    Robbie cupped his hands and yelled out toward the pitcher, “Hey, you on the pitcher’s mound. How can you throw with all that snot hanging out your nose?”
    The pitcher threw a ball over Bette’s head. Her bat stayed on her shoulder. He didn’t throw the ball high because of what Robbie said. He threw it high because Big Bette’s head wasn’t all that far from the ground. Bette stood in a slight crouch to make her strike zone even smaller.
    â€œBall one!” yelled the umpire.
    â€œCome on, pitcher! You couldn’t tell the difference between a strike zone and a crossing zone!”
    â€œRobbie,” said Dad softly.
    â€œYeah?” asked Robbie.
    â€œI know it is all right to shout insults. Still, I would try to be a little less provocative.”
    â€œWhat does provocative mean?”
    â€œIt means likely to make the other team angry.”
    â€œWhy can’t I be provocative?”
    â€œBecause Bette will probably get on base but this Kamloops team is going to beat us very, very badly. Never show fear but never provoke a sleeping lion, either.”
    â€œTake your base!” yelled the umpire.
    Big Bette stood at home plate, the bat on her shoulder.
    â€œHe walked you,” yelled Dad. “You can go to first base.”
    Big Bette nodded and dropped her bat. She started jogging toward third base.
    â€œYou know that first base is over there,” yelled Dad, pointing.
    â€œRight,” said Big Bette as casually as she could. She jogged across the infield to stand at first base with her hands on her knees. We could see the Kamloops players look at each other, puzzled.
    Nick came up to bat. He held his bat above his shoulder and glared at the pitcher. He swung at the first three pitches and missed them all.
    The next two batters struck out, too, and it was time for the Kamloops team to hit.
    I ran out to the field, pulling on my glove. I took my position, hands on my knees, focused and ready and praying that nobody hit a ball toward me. I figured that if I looked mean and acted like I knew what I was doing then maybe the batters would try to hit the ball somewhere else.
    Nick pitched. Dad figured that Nick was our best athlete and that he would pitch the hardest and the fastest.
    Maybe so, but the Kamloops Kangaroos seemed to like hard and fast pitches. Kamloops scored eight runs in the first inning. We got somebody out when a runner should have stayed at first but tried for a double. We got another out when Little Liam caught a fly ball and the third on a strikeout. When Nick got his strikeout we all cheered and ran out to hug him like we’d won the World Series.
    â€œHey, at least you got plenty of practice out there,” said Dad as we ran to the dugout. “And you all have a better idea of where to throw the ball when there’s a hit.”
    It was