No Arm in Left Field Read Free

third made it two outs. It was up to Bud Philips. Bud, a lanky, light-haired, left-handed
     batter, strode to the plate in that lazy fashion of his and watched the first pitch sail by him as if he were watching a parade.
     He didn’t look as if he were going to swing at the next pitch eitheruntil after the ball had left Lefty’s hand and was halfway to the plate.
    Crack!
A bullet drive to right center, and both Tony and Terry scored! Ed grounded out to end the rally. Forest Lakers 2, Boilers
     1.
    The change in the lead seemed to have affected the Boilers. They weren’t able to get a man on first base in their half of
     the inning. In the fifth Stu, Caesar and Mick went down one, two, three. So did the Boilers.
    Jeff, leading off for the Lakers in the top of the sixth, singled on the first pitch and scampered to second base on Tony’s
     scratch single. Terry, hoping to knock in at least one run, swung hard at a high, outside one — and missed. He let a low pitch
     slide by for strike two, then swunghard again at another one he liked — high and outside.
    “Strike three!” cried the ump.
    “Oh, come on!” Tony yelled angrily. “Somebody knock us in!”
    Nobody did.
    “This is it!” Coach Harper said as the Lakers ran out to the field. “Let’s play heads-up out there!”
    Mick worked hard on the Boiler lead-off man and struck him out on the 3-2 pitch. The infielders snapped the ball around the
     horn, then returned it to Mick.
    Mick took his time, then threw one low and inside. Bat met ball and Terry sprinted forward as he saw it heading for short
     left field. He reached low for the shallow drive and caught the ball near his sneaker laces. He was within tenfeet of Tony when he slowed up and tossed the ball to the shortstop.
    “Nice catch.” Tony said, and smiled crookedly. “Too bad nobody was on second. You might’ve thrown him out — seeing you didn’t
     have far to throw.”
    “Guess I was lucky,” Terry said as he turned and trotted back to his position. He tried not to get sore. Maybe one of these
     days — soon, he hoped — Tony would realize that Terry could catch, run and hit well enough to make up for his poor arm, and
     stop his sarcastic remarks.
    Mick walked the next Boiler, the next batter popped out to Ed, and that was it. The Forest Lakers won, 2 to 1.
    “Nice game, Terry,” Mick said as they stood by the water fountain, waiting for their chance to get a drink.
    “Thanks, Mick,” Terry said, wiping his sweating brow. “You, too.”
    A couple of strange guys came up and looked at Terry. They were about his age and wore baseball caps.
    “Nice hit you got, Delaney,” one of them wearing glasses said. “Bet you won’t get to first base on us.”
    A chuckle rippled from him as he nudged his partner and walked away.
    “Who are they?” Terry asked curiously.
    “Jim Burling and Dave Wilson,” said Tony, who was standing nearby. “They’re the battery for the Yellow Jackets, the team we
     play our first league game with. They’ve got your number, Terry. You’re a sucker for high, outside pitches.”

3
    F ELLAS ,” Coach Harper said. “Before you leave I’ve got some nice news for you. There’s a movie on the Oakland-Cincinnati World Series
     tomorrow night at the Forest Lake Hotel, sponsored by the Forest Lake Lions Club, and all of us are invited to attend. How
     about that?”
    A chorus of satisfied shouts resounded from the boys. Terry was especially pleased for the opportunity. He hadn’t seen any
     of the World Series games on television.
    Suddenly he remembered that tomorrownight his father had planned to take the family out to dinner. The conflict bothered him. He liked to go out for dinner, but
     he wanted to see the World Series movie, too.
    “Fine,” the coach said. “The movie will be shown at seven-thirty. I’ll have someone telephone each of you and arrange to pick
     you up.”
    “Are you going, Terry?” Mick asked.
    “I’d like to,” Terry replied.