The crowd had all returned, including the Cornville fans, who sat in the right field bleachers. When the crowd saw Emily, they all stood and cheered, even the Cornville fans. They were all jumped up and down with Thelma leading them, cheering “EMILY! EMILY!”
Emily
blushed and hurried on. She mumbled her
excuse for being late to Coach Buggese.
But she ignored Howie.
Coach
Buggese looked relieved as she ran past.
First he spat on the grass, and then he pulled a stubby pencil and the
lineup card out of his back pocket. He
adding Emily’s name to it, in the ninth batting position.
She ran one
quick sprint across the field to loosen up.
The
Binnington High School Baseball Field was a beautifully stadium, worthy of a
college team. The grass was mowed. And the infield was neatly leveled and
raked. It had a large scoreboard in dead
center field, recessed dugouts with water coolers, and a wooden fence
surrounding the entire thing. The
bleachers were large, with facilities and a snack stand beneath them. Small towns put a lot of effort into their
high school teams. Being away from a big
city left high schools sports as the best entertainment in town.
The local
business club, to which both Mr. Hinton and Mr. Throckmorton belonged, raised
the money for the stadium. It was carved
out of a wheat field. On the far side of
the fence, wheat still grew.
Cornville’s
stadium was almost as nice. Of course,
its stadium was carved out of a cornfield.
After running
just one warmed up sprint, Emily took her position at shortstop, where she
joined the other infielders scooping up ground balls tossed by the first
baseman and throwing them back to him.
By now, the
umpires had managed to find the field.
And the coaches were called to the plate to turn in their lineup.
Both teams
lined up on their respective baselines outside their dugouts, Cornville on the
first base line and Binnington on the third.
Then the band played the National Anthem. And the game began.
Binnington
was the home team, so they took the field first. After forming a huddle in the infield and
shouting, “Rah! Rah! Binnington!” they ran to their positions.
Emily
checked the placement of her teammates, as the umpire yelled, “Play Ball!” The right fielder was playing too deep. She motioned him up to a shallower position
between the first and second basemen to prevent any ground balls hit through
the hole from being stretched into doubles.
She had studied the scouting reports and knew Cornville’s leadoff hitter
liked to take advantage of ground balls hit that way.
Howie
pickup the rosin bag that was kept behind the pitcher’s mound, and coated his
fingers, while looking in at the catcher for a sign. It was for a fastball. He went into his windup.
Howie
struck out the first batter on just three pitches: two fastballs and a
knuckler.
The plate
umpire roared, “YOU”RE OUT!”
Most of the
team and all the home crowd cheered him.
The right field bleachers were silent.
Emily
ignored him, kicking at the dirt and pounding into her glove, while waiting for
the next batter. She bent over with her
hands on her knees and yelled, “Come on, next batter…next batter.”
Howie
stopped accepting congratulations from his other teammates and looked over at
Emily puzzled.
She
continued to ignore him.
The next batter stuck out just as easy. Howie was on a roll!
But the
third batter pulled a sharp grounder to the left side of the infield, just wide
of the third baseman’s reach. It looked
as if it was going through the hole.
Out of
nowhere, Emily was there, scooping up the ball up at the very edge of the
outfield grass. And with her ponytail
flying, she twirled and threw hard, straight, and true to first base.
The field umpire
heard the slap of the ball just before the runner’s foot hit the bag. It was in time!
“YOU’RE
OUT!” he roared, jerking his thumb back over his right shoulder.
The top of
the inning was over. And the Cornville
team took the field.
The entire
Binnington team was slapping hands with Emily as they headed to the dugout.
“Great
save, Em!”
“Way to go,
shortstuff!”
“Poetry in
motion, Hinton; pure poetry!”
Emily
pretended not to see Howie, when he came up to congratulate her. She went over and sat at the far end of the
bench and concentrated on the field of play
Howie
sighed, and put his pitching arm into the sleeve of his jacket to keep it from
tightening up. Then he went to the other
end of the bench, by the water cooler, and sat down. He was not sure what he
had done to annoy Emily this time. She
would let him know – eventually. She was
friendly enough before math class.
Coach
Buggese was leaning against the fence by the water cooler. He nodded at Howie and said, “Decent inning,
Throckmorton. Let’s see if you can keep
it up.” Then he spat on the dirt and
scratched his stomach. Coach Buggese was
hero worshipped by the student equipment manager, who spat and scratched, also.
Coach
Buggese was a barrel shaped man in his late forties. He spent time in the minor leagues as a
pitcher and was about to make it to the major, with an 89 mile-per-hour
fastball, when the war broke out. By the
time it was over, and he recovered from wounds sustained during the D-Day
landing on the
From her
end of the bench, Emily turned and stared into the stands, where she saw Karen
Switzer. Karen was smiling and
waving. Emily was sure it was at Howie. Even the Cornville third baseman looked up
into the stands and smile. The girl
attracted everyone!
The
Binnington side also went down in order.
The leadoff batter popped up to the third baseman. Next a fly ball was caught in deep left; it
was almost a homerun and to lose it was heartbreaking. Then the third batter struck out on a hard
slider, after fouling off half a dozen or more pitches.
The
Binnington team took the field for the start of the second inning. Howie was in rare form. And the game was shaping up to be a pitchers’
duel. Emily could not help being
impressed. Once or twice she found
herself shouting encouragements, which she quickly stopped, as soon as she
realized it!
The first
batter in the top of the second was the cleanup hitter for
Butch
protested his striking out. He appealed
to the field umpire, claiming he checked his swing.
“YOU’RE
OUT!” The field umpire agreed with his
partner behind the plate.
They’re all
blind,” grumbled Butch. He threw his bat
at the batboy and stomped into the visitors dugout. The Binnington crowd cheered and the
Cornville crowd booed. Emily was
surprised to see Karen Switzer sitting quietly.
Shouldn’t she be cheering for Howie?
Howie mowed
the next two down, also!
“Strike
one; strike two, strike three!”
“Strike
one; strike two, strike three!”
“It’s like a dance,” Howie yelled as he left
the field. He put his glove arm in the
air and his right hand on his stomach and waltzed all the way to the
dugout. “One, two, three…two, two,
three… three, two, three.” And he did
not step on anyone’s feet! The team
howled in delight. But Emily turned her
back to him
Coach
Buggese came up to Emily as she entered the dugout. “Are ya feelin’ alright, Hinton? Ya don’t seem yourself. Ya ain’t very vocal, today,” he added, as he
scratched his arm. The equipment manager
scratched his arm, also.
“Don’t you
think Howie is vocal enough for all of us?” Emily replied, and went and sat on
the opposite end of the bench from Howie.
The coach
just shook his head. Then he leaned out
of the dugout and spat onto the ground.
The equipment manager spat, also.
Unfortunately, this time he hit the coach’s shoe.
That inning
the first two players got on base for Binnington. And for a while, it looked like the Cornville
pitcher was in trouble, but he bore down and was able to get out of the inning
without any runs scoring. He got a
strikeout. Then a fly out to center
advanced the runners to second and third.
But the last batter popped up to the catcher, leaving the runners
stranded.
Again it
was three up and three down for the Cornville team. Howie was a pitching machine. There was a ground ball right back to first
baseman, a fly ball to left field, and the last batter chased a ball away in
the dirt for the third strike.
The crowds
in the stands were standing to cheer him as he left the field. But some of them where saying, “Howie”. And some were saying “Binnington High. And others were saying. “Throckmorton.” So it sounded like “How ye been,
Throckmorton?”
Howie
looked puzzled, but he doffed his cap and waved that he was okay.
Emily was
the first batter up for Binnington at the bottom of the inning, and Howie was helping
the coach at third base. She surprised
Cornville with a bunt down the third base line and beat out the throw to
first. Every so often, that ploy worked
when she took them by surprise, but only when an unsuspecting third baseman
played too deep.
Emily
grinned. She was pleased with herself. Butch Pratt, the Cornville third baseman who
Emily caught unaware, scowled at her from across the infield.
The crowd
roared, “EMILY!”
She took a
long lead off first base.
She saw
Howie wagging signs to her from the third base coaching box. She knew they meant, “Get back on base and
don’t try to steal”
“Humph!” She would show him.
She was off
like a shot, as soon as the pitcher started his stretch, but the ball was a
fastball that sped to the catcher. Emily
would be thrown out easily, if he caught it.
The batter knew he needed to protect her.
At the last
possible second, the he managed to get wood on the ball. It stayed in bounds, slowly rolling towards
first base.
The pitcher
scooped it up and tossed the batter was out.
But Emily was on second. She
shouldn’t have run; still it counted as a sacrifice. A runner on second base was in scoring
position.
Coach
Buggese looked at Emily and frowned.
Emily knew he was a stickler for following signs. But she was safe and on second. He would forgive her. The gamble had been worth it.
She looked
over at Howie and saw him frowning, also.
She felt like sticking her tongue out at him. Ignoring him, she took another long lead off
of second.
It was a long
fly ball to center field and Emily had to go back to the bag and tagged up. If she had stayed closer to the bag, she
could have tagged as soon as the ball was caught. Then she might have had a chance to make it
home. Now she could only cruise to third
base. She rounded the bag and scrambled
back, as the ball was thrown to Butch.
He slapped her hard in the side, with the ball in his glove, even though
she had already returned to the bag and was standing safely on it. The force knocked her off.
“Hey! That’s dirty play,” Howie argued, as
There were
tears of pain in Emily’s eyes. Quickly
she turned her head so Howie could not see them.
Butch
looked over at the umpire, as if expecting an out
“Safe,” the
umpire yelled.
The home
crowd roared!
Butch
scowled at Emily, and moved next to the bag, staying close to intimidate her.
Emily
shrugged off the pain and ignored him.
Players on other teams were always trying to intimidate her. She did not let them. But then she had never run into anyone as big
or mean as Butch before.
Despite her
sore side, and even with two outs, she was on third. She kept her back turned to Howie
Howie tried
to reason with her from coach’s box.
“Don’t take a long lead, Emily!” he pleaded. Still she refused to look at him. He sighed.
Coach
Buggese was leaning against side of the dugout with his arms folded across his
chest. He said nothing; he just gave
Emily a look that meant, “You better know what you are doing!” Then he turned around and spat. The student equipment manager was not around
to spit this time. After wiping off the
coach’s shoe, Buggese sent him out to center field to tend the scoreboard.
The third
batter in the Binnington lineup was due up again.
Emily took
a long lead off third base. Butch stayed
close to her. He kept bumping her side
with his glove. Emily bit her lip,
determined to ignore the pain.
The first
pitch was a ball low and away. Emily
tagged up. Again Butch bumped her as she
passed him.
Howie swore
under his breath. Butch ignored him.
Emily glanced
up into the stands and saw Karen Switzer leaning forward, intently watching the
drama at third base.
The next
pitch was a ball, high and inside. Once
more Emily tagged up. And was
bumped! She was getting sorer.
The next
pitch was right down the pipe.
“Foul
ball!” the umpire yelled as the ball cleared the left field fence just inches
outside the foul line. “Strike
one.” Emily had almost reached home
plate. When there are two outs, you run
on any hit ball.
Emily
tagged up, and Butch continued to bump her.
“Em, stay
on base,” Howie commanded.
Emily
ignored him.
The pitcher
wiped his brow. That was the longest hit
off of him all day.
The next
pitch was high and away. The batter
checked his swing, but the pitcher appealed to the field umpire.
“Strike,”
he called.
The
Binnington batter had turned over his wrists.
A batter can try to check a swing, but if he swings so far he has to
turn his wrists, the swing counts.
Emily knew
that with two strikes and two outs the batter had to protect the plate. He would to swing at any ball with any
possibility of being called a strike.
There were only two balls in the count, so the pitcher had one bad ball
to give. The batter would not see a good
ball this pitch.
The pitcher
called time out and the entire infield came in to discuss strategy. Before he joined his teammates over at the
mound, Butch Pratt looked up into the stands, smiled, and waved.
It looked
like he was waving at Karen Switzer?
What was she, a boy magnet? And
was that actually Butch smiling? Emily
was sure he only showed his teeth to bite!
With two
outs and a runner on third, Emily expected the entire infield to play
back. The play would most likely be to
first base. If runner was out, Emily
wouldn’t be allowed to score, even if she crossed the plate, first. But if Emily stole home, the runner could not
be able to mess things up by getting thrown out. It was bold!
It was audacious! She would do
it!
“Play
ball!” the home umpire shouted.
She
expected Butch to back off and play deep with the other infielders, but he
stuck to her like glue.
“What an
idiot this guy is,” she thought, as she took a step off of third base. He bumped her again with his glove, shoving
her harder than ever.
Irate, she
turned around and clenched her hands on her hips
“YOU’RE
OUT,” yelled the ump. And Emily saw the
ball in the Butch’s glove. She’d been
tricked!
“Aw, Em!” she
heard Howie say. Her face was flushed
and she wanted to sink into the ground.
Coach
Buggese just stared at her for a moment.
Then he turned to the dugout and said “Better get out there, men, the
inning is over.” He was too angry to
spit.
Emily took
her place in the infield and managed to put in a respectable performance,
despite her embarrassment. All three of
the batters grounded to short, and she fielded all three neatly, throwing the
runners out at first base.
She
sheepishly accepted Howie’s congratulations as she came off the field. She was fair enough to reply to him, “Sure, I
fielded them, Howie, but you’re the one who got them to hit to me.”
Darn, she
thought, as he grinned at her. It’s hard
to stay mad at him. Howie kept grinning,
and went back to coaching third base.
The
Cornville pitcher walked the first batter.
But he struck out the next three.
He was doing some fine pitching, also.
Binnington
took the field. Howie would be the first
batter up the next time Binnington was at bat.
Which was soon! Again he mowed
down the three batters in order.
If the
Cornville pitcher anticipated a repeat of his performance last inning, he was
disappointed. It was no contest, as
Howie hit the first pitch delivered, over the wall in deep center field,
causing the equipment manager to fall off his perch. It was a homerun!
He looked
good as he trotted the bases. And Emily
was the first one there to hug him at home plate.
The score
was one to nothing in favor of Binnington, but that was the only hit of the
inning. Emily and the next two batters
struck out. The game was turning into a
pitcher's duel.
The
Cornville pitcher had so far thrown a four-hitter with one run scoring. And Howie, although no one would speak of it,
because it was bad luck to even mention it, was throwing a no-hitter.
All sorts
of antics began to take place in the Binnington dugout, as part of the baseball
tradition of superstition. When Howie
was pitching, the players on the bench would fold their arms and cross their
legs, all in unison. When Howie got an
out, they would shift, folding their arms the opposite way, and crossing their
legs on the other side. When Binnington
came up to bat, all the players put their hats on backwards, except Emily, who
couldn’t because of her ponytail. So she
put her hat on upside-down.
It was all
the sophistication, superstition, and nonsense that had become part of baseball
through the years. And the Binnington
team loved it. Even Coach Buggese got
into it, folding his arms and crossing his legs with the rest of the team.
At last it
was the top of the ninth inning. Three
more outs and Binnington would win. And
Howie would have a no-hitter!
The first
batter was an easy out. He popped-up to
shallow left field.
Then Butch
Pratt came up to the plate. The last
time he was up, he hit a long ball that was caught just at the warning track in
deep center field, almost where Howie’s ball had gone out.
Butch
backed out of the batter’s box and called timeout. He knocked the dirt off his cleats. Then he spat on both hands, to get a better
grip on the log he swung. He stepped
back into the box, dug in, and swung at the next pitch, a hard fastball.
WHACK!
The ball
was pulled down the line in left field.
It was long enough. If it was
fair, it would be a homerun, the game would be tied, and Howie would lose his
no-hitter!
It went
foul…barely!
Emily knew
Butch was trying to pull the ball. She
could see his front foot pointed at the left foul line. If he hit a line drive, it could go into the
hole between shortstop and third base. Emily
shifted deep and over towards third base side.
Butch dug
in again.
Emily
caught something out of the corner of her eye and looked up. It was Karen Switzer waving to someone on the
field. Was it Howie? Frowning, she looked over at the pitcher’s
mound.
But while
Emily was examining Howie, Butch shifted his stance and Emily missed it. His front foot was now pointed towards the
large hole she left opened between second base and shortstop.
WHACK!
It was a
line drive just to the second base side of short. Ordinarily it would have been an easy play
for Emily, but there was no chance of plugging the hole and reaching the
ball. Emily was caught leaning the wrong
way. She could only watch in dismay, as
the ball streaked into center field and Butch reached second base standing up.
There went
Howie’s no-hitter! And it was Emily’s
error! All the other players shifted
when Butch did.
Coach
Buggese looked at her for a moment, then he spat on the ground and scratched
his stomach. He pushed himself away from
the water cooler and walked to the edge of the field, where he called out to
the team and said, “That’s okay! It’s
still a shutout. But ya better work
harder out there, men.” He looked at
Emily, spat, and walked back to the water cooler.
She was
devastated. And the worst part was that
Howie didn’t say anything, even though he knew she flubbed the play. He just looked at her for a moment. Then he looked up into the stands where he
saw Karen waving. He smiled grimly,
looked back at Emily and then at Butch Pratt standing, grinning, on second
base.
He shrugged
his shoulders and got ready to pitch to the next batter. This time he was going from a stretch,
because he had to hold a runner on at second base. He reached back and threw with all his might!
CRACK!
The bat
broke on contact. The ball flew out to
center field, while the top part of the bat flew behind the plate.
The ball
was caught.
Butch
tagged up and rounded third base. But he
held there as the ball came in to Emily.
“Thanks for the hit, runt,” he said to her, as she looked him back to
the bag.
“Time out,”
the plate umpire called.
The catcher
was down! The piece of flying bat snagged
his hand and he would need stitches. The
student equipment manager was allowed back in from center field to help him off
the field.
The coach
looked at the bench for a second, and then he called for the backup shortstop
to go out onto the field.
Emily was
stunned! Was the coach was pulling her
from the game? Was he that disgusted
with her for flubbing the play with Butch?
Dejected, she started to walk off the field.
But Coach
Buggese stopped her and said, “Put the gear on, Hinton. Ya’re catching!”
Emily was
stunned. She had never caught in a game
before. She was too small!
“Hold it!”
argued Howie. “You can’t put her in
there! She’s never caught in a real
game. She’s too small!”
“Back to
the mound, Throckmorton,” Coach Buggese spat.
He grudgingly added an explanation, in an undertone. “Hinton catches ya better than anyone. And we only have one out left. It’s your job to get it! Don’t argue!”
Howie
walked back to the mound, muttering the coach’s name, only he was accenting it slightly.
“Too
small!” muttered Emily. She would show
him she was big enough, she thought, as she pulled on the catcher’s gear. She had to wrap the chest strap twice around
to get it tight enough to stay.
Emily, the
baseball strategist, wasn’t thinking.
Neither was Coach Buggese. But
Howie understood what the Cornville would do now.
With a
runner at third, if the batter could lay a bunt down the third base line, there
was a chance he could beat out a throw to first base, because the third baseman
couldn’t play in for the bunt, he had to hold Butch on the bag. But no matter where the ball went, Butch
Pratt would do his best to mow down the catcher as if she was grass, just in
case the throw went to the plate.
Emily was
sure being difficult, Howie sighed. He
didn’t care about losing his no-hitter; he was a team player. As long as the team won, that was good enough
for him. But as frustrating as Emily
was, he couldn’t let her get hurt! He
knew what he had to do to protect her.
First he had to make sure the bunt was laid down perfectly.
The first
pitch was a soft lob, right over the plate.
It was delivered so easily, that the batter just stood there, staring in
disbelief.
“What the
heck!” Howie heard the coach yell.
Emily did
not know what to think. She went over
the catcher’s signs in her mind. That
was not the pitch she called for. She
called for another fastball, high and away.
She wiggled the signals with her fingers and set into her stance.
Instead it
was another lob, right over the plate. But
this time the batter was looking for it.
It was a perfect bunt, right down the third base line.
Emily
flipped off her mask - and stared in disbelief - as she saw the huge runner bearing
down on her like a locomotive. She
couldn’t move. She was like a deer
caught in headlights
The third
baseman was advancing on the ball, but Howie was way ahead of him. After the pitch, he took off, just as the
ball was bunted!
There was
only one chance. He had to beat the runner to the ball. Butch was slow, but he had a head start. He didn’t slow down, and even as he bent to
scoop the ball into his glove his momentum carried him on to the base path, in
front of Butch, who was still bearing down on Emily, standing still, unable to
move.
Butch could
not have avoided Howie if he wanted to.
And he didn’t want to!
It was like
two trains colliding. Some spectators
even swore the ground shook. It reminded
Emily of a math problem.
It took
awhile for the dust to settle.
First, the
plate umpire looked around on the ground for the loose ball. But he couldn’t find it. Finally, he opened Howie’s glove and looked
inside. There it was!
“YOU’RE
OUT!” he roared at the runner.
Howie had
held onto the ball! And the game was
over! Binnington had won by a score of
one to nothing!
The entire
school cheered!
Emily did
not care. She knelt down there on the
ground, still in her gear, and pulled Howie’s head onto her lap.
She still
feels soft, Howie thought. He didn’t
want to move.
Emily
looked over at Butch and was shocked at what she saw. Karen Switzer had run down out of the bleachers
and knelt down, in her new blue dress, and taken Butch Pratt’s head and put it
on her lap.
“Butch was
my boyfriend before I moved from Cornville,” she explained. “It was nice of Howie to show me to the ball
field, so I could come and watch him play.
I wanted Butch to see this new dress.
I wore just for him!”
Emily
decided to ignore the subject of dresses.
“Does Butch play this hard all the time?” she asked.
“Well, he
is an aggressive player. He always tells
me to be a really good ball player you have to be willing to die for the game.”
Howie
opened one eye and groaned, “Oh Em, now I know I’m never going to be a really
good ball player.”
Emily’s
eyes twinkled. “Oh hush!” she said. “I won’t make you die to be a really good
ball player.”
Coach
Buggese looked on, scratched himself, and spat.