Free The All-Star Joker by David A. Kelly Page A

with him. We helped him find his lucky bat when it was stolen.”
    “Cool!” Andy said. “Sure, I’ll stay.”
    Big D from the Boston Red Sox strode to the plate. The stadium full of fans went wild. With his friendly smile and home run record, Big D was a favorite to win the derby. He stepped into the batter’s box. He swiveled his front foot in the dirt and took a few practice swings.
    Mike, Kate, and Andy got ready. Part of Mike wanted Big D to nail home runs over the fence to win. But another part wanted him to hit some pop-ups for them to catch.
    Big D let the first two pitches go by. Buthe unwound on the third pitch and sent it sailing to the left of the huge center-field scoreboard topped by a giant gold crown. The fans cheered wildly!
    Kate, though, was watching Big D, not the ball. “What’s wrong with Big D? He’s dancing around like he’s got ants in his pants!”
    She was right. Big D hopped around home plate as if his feet were on fire. He twitched his shoulders from one side to the other. Then he reached his bat over his shoulder and rubbed it up and down his back quickly as if he had an itch he couldn’t scratch. After a minute, he settled down and tried to hit again.
    But something still bothered him. As the pitch flew over the plate, Big D’s shoulder twisted in a funny way and the bat weakly hit the ball down the first-base line. It was not his night.

    Big D looked like a big dud. Pitch after pitch went by. In between them, Big D kept scratching his stomach and his back and rubbing his feet. Whenever he hit a ball, it dribbled into the outfield.
    Big D’s turn ended quickly. He only scored one home run, the lowest score all night.
    Kate winced. “That was awful! Big D should have hit a lot of home runs!”
    Mike nudged Andy with his elbow. “Well, at least your father’s not in last place anymore,” he said.
    Andy cracked a smile. “Hey, you’re right!” he said.
    “Come on. Let’s go see what happened,” Kate said.
    While the final batter stepped up to the plate, Mike, Kate, and Andy ran to the American League’s dugout. Andy jogged over to his dad,who was standing next to Sparky, the team’s manager.
    “What’s going on?” Andy asked.
    Josh shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe Big D’s allergic to all that prairie grass we have around here.”
    Big D stood at the top of the dugout steps, scratching his arms like crazy. “Ah, looks like he’s just allergic to hitting home runs on his night off,” muttered Sparky. “I say you either get the job done or you don’t. Big D didn’t tonight. I sure hope he does better during the game tomorrow.”
    Still, Big D smiled when he spotted Mike and Kate.
    “Mike and Kate! Good to see you,” Big D wheezed, in between scratches. “I don’t need help finding my bat tonight. But I’d love if you could figure out why I’m so itchy.”
    “Maybe it’s your uniform,” Mike said. “Once I was allergic to laundry detergent. It left a bunch of red marks on my arm.”
    “Nah, we brought the uniforms with us,” Big D panted. “Arrrrgh! This is killing me! Mike, can you grab my water bottle from my locker?”
    “Sure,” Mike replied. He scampered down the steps into the clubhouse behind the dugout. While he was gone, Big D leaned into the edge of the dugout and rubbed his back against it. Then he whipped off his hat and used both hands to scratch his head. Finally, Mike returned with the water bottle. Big D took three huge gulps and gasped for air.
    “I’m still itchy, but that feels better,” he said, wiping his chin. “Thanks!” He went back to scratching furiously.
    Mike made a funny face at Kate. It lookedas if he had something important to say.
    “Uh, Big D?” he said. “I found something in the locker room that you might want to see.”
    Big D stopped scratching his legs. He looked at Mike.
    Mike pulled out a small plastic bottle from his back pocket. He held it up.
    Across the front, it read:
    ITCHING