Free Return of the Home Run Kid by Matt Christopher Page A

and each time it was an over-the-fence wallop.
    He watched the ball sail out to deep left field as he started to run, dropping his bat a third of the way down the base line. The Redbirds’ fans cheered and whistled. He felt like doffing his hat to them as he rounded the bases, but he knew better than to show off. Getting a home run and bringing in a man on base was enough.
    Again he was greeted at the plate by his happy teammates. All, that is, except Trent, who mixed in with the gang at the plate — but didn’t even make a show of holding out his hand.
    Stick it in your nose, Trent, Sylvester thought.
    “Nice blast, Syl,” said his buddy Duane.
    Sylvester shrugged. “Thanks, pal,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.”
    But Duane, up next, popped out to first base. Three outs.
    Hooper Redbirds 2, Macon Falcons 0.
    By now, Sylvester was relaxed enough to check out the crowd as he ran off to his position in right field. There, of course, was Cheeko. He actually wasn’t too far from where the man who looked like Mr. Baruth had been sitting. Only that seat was now empty.
    Apparently, neither his mother nor his father had made the game. Too busy with work. Oh, well, he couldn’t complain too much since they were all going to the Chief’s game this weekend.
    But where was Joyce? He knew another busload of Hooper fans had followed the team. Maybe she had given up on him.
    Ray Bottoms, the Falcons’ shortstop, led off and pounded Terry Barnes’s second pitch for a hard, shallow drive between Bobby and Sylvester for a double. This time the Falcons’ fans, who outnumbered the Redbirds’ fans about four to one, applauded.
    Left fielder Kirk Anderson walloped a fastball down to short, which Trent scooped up and pegged to first for an out. But the next batter, Ernie Fantelli, came through with another double to score Ray.
    “C’mon, Terry! C’mon, kid! Let’s get ’em outta there!” Sylvester chimed in with the rest of the team on the field.
    The cleanup hitter was Steve Button, the other unwelcome visitor who had butted in on Sylvester and Joyce after the movies. He took two hefty swings at Terry’s fastball, then drove one a mile high toward the right center fence. No doubt about it — it was Sylvester s ball. He was after it, running sideways toward the fence, the second he saw it arcing in his direction.
    As he neared the fence, he could tell that the ball would clear it only by inches unless he could leap high enough to make the grab.
    It was almost impossible, but he tried. As he pushed off with all his might, he felt a rush underneath him, like a springboard shoved under his feet. He rose into the air and … plop! The ball smacked in the pocket of his glove and stuck there.
    His feet landed back on earth and he quickly pegged the ball to second. Jim caught it and whipped it to third, but not in time to nab Ernie as he slid safely into the bag.
    Again, there was a wild ovation from the Red-birds’ fans for Sylvester’s sensational catch. There was an ear-to-ear smile on Cheeko’s face as he clapped along with the crowd.
    Sylvester felt incredibly good. That catch ought to take a little wind out of Button’s overblown ego, he thought.
    Scuttling into position for the next batter, he shouted, “One more to go, Terry! Only one more!”
    Robbie Axelrod, the Falcons’ short, well-built third baseman, connected with a low, inside pitch that struck the left field fence for a triple, scoring Ernie. And then Tom Stringer struck out.
    Redbirds 2, Falcons 2.
    “Okay, Bobby, break the tie,” shouted Coach Corbin. “Nail that ball!”
    Bobby Kent, leading off at the top of the second inning for the Redbirds, did nail Dukes first pitch over second base for a single.
    As Jerry Ash, the next batter, headed for the plate, Sylvester heard a familiar voice at a familiar spot — his elbow. “You did it again, Syl. You can do it every time you want to, can’t you?”
    Snooky Malone was at his side again. His face was