happily mauled by a black Newfoundland twice his size, and a tiny dachshund was pushing a baseball all over the infield with his nose.
It killed me a little bit, but finally I went out to the field. âMoose! Coco! Come!â They heard me and came trotting over, wagging their tails in gratitude. This had been a lot more fun than theyâd expectedâand a PowerBar snack to boot!
âTime to go,â I said, âbefore they send you guys to doggie jail.â
We were heading off the field when I felt a sharp tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Mr. Crabtree staring down at me like an angry parakeet.
âAre these your dogs?â
âUhâ¦â
I was completely tongue-tied and just about to panic when Katie suddenly appeared at my side to rescue me. âYes, they are his dogs. Arenât they cute?â
âAre you kidding?â Mr. Crabtree waved his hand. âThis is a baseball field, not a kennel.â
âWeâre leaving,â Katie said.
âYeah, weâre leaving,â I echoed.
âGood!â Mr. Crabtree was standing there with a smug look on his face. âAnd donât come back until you learn how to respect the game!â
This was no time to be a wise guy. âYes, sir.â I said, grabbing the dogs by their collars. I was walking back to the fence when I heard a voice behind me.
âHow about you learn to respect the kids ?â
Megan!
She was walking up to Mr. Crabtree, with Willy and his younger brother, Chad, next to her.
Mr. Crabtree looked at her in disbelief.
âWhat did you say to me?â
Megan wasnât about to back down. âI said, how about you learn to respect the kids? Let them have fun, like boys are supposed to do, instead of scaring them half to death!â She pointed at Chad. âYou practically made my boyfriendâs brother cry.â Then she looked at Chad. âSorry, buddy.â
âItâs okay,â he said.
âThis isnât a sandbox,â said Mr. Crabtree. âThis is competitive sports. The kids in this town have it too goodâthey need to toughen up a little bit, learn how to deal with a little adversity.â
I felt I had to step in and say something. âYouâre right, sir,â I said. âWe do have it too good in this town. Weâre really lucky. But that doesnât mean you shouldnât let us be kids. Pretty soon weâll all have to face real life. Iâm going to high school next year, and itâs going to be hard. So while these kids are still in fourth and fifth grade, shouldnât they be allowed to have a little fun?â
âThey ARE having fun!â Mr. Crabtree turned around to face a bunch of his players and their parents, who had all gathered around to listen. âArenât you guys having fun? Arenât you?â
A few kids nodded, murmuring, âYupâ and âSure,â and one or two of the dads made their kids raise their hands. But most of them didnât say a thing.
Mr. Crabtreeâs face turned bright red. âDo you people know how many hours Iâve dedicated to this team?â He waited for an answer, but none came. âOkay, FINE! Find another freakinâ coach for all I care!â
He said that last sentence so loud, it scared Coco a little bit. Which wasnât good because when Coco gets scared, she pees on the first thing she sees.
Which happened to be Mr. Crabtreeâs foot.
âTHATâS IT!â the coach roared. âIâM OUT OF HERE!â He stared me down for one last second. âYouâre older than these boys, youâre supposed to know better,â he spat out. âGrow up!â
Everyone watched him as he marched into the dugout, grabbed his clipboards, his windbreaker, his whistle, and his baseball glove and headed to the parking lot.
Two minutes later, he turned around and came back to the field, because he forgot his son.
âMarcus,
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes