Free Thumb on a Diamond by Ken Roberts

rest of us ran back to our positions, more attentive now. We knew balls would be hit to us. And they were. By the time we got the Vancouver team out, they were leading 5 to 1.
    We didn’t score any runs during our turn to bat.
    â€œWell,” said Susan gloomily as another batter struck out. “We’re not going to lose by the mercy rule. We have to play the whole seven innings.”
    â€œThat means we’re playing better than we were yesterday,” I said.
    â€œIt won’t look that way on paper,” said Susan. “The Vancouver players have figured out my pitch and they’ll figure out that you’re throwing pretty much the same way. They’ll score so many runs that we’ll wish the game could have stopped after two innings.”
    â€œActually,” I said softly, “maybe Dad is wrong. Maybe you don’t need more than one pitch.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWhat if you throw the same pitch but throw it in different places?”
    â€œI don’t get it.”
    â€œWhat if you don’t always try to throw strikes? The batters know where to swing. What if some of your pitches miss the plate on purpose? What if the ball is lower or higher or so close to them that they have to think about ducking? They think you only throw strikes, so they’re swinging at everything.”

    Susan looked at me and grinned.
    Susan struck out all three Vancouver batters. When it was our turn to bat Nick hit a home run. The score was 5 to 2.
    The Vancouver team did get three hits off Susan in the fourth inning but we stopped them from scoring. We didn’t score any runs when it was our turn to bat.
    â€œFifth inning,” said Dad. “By the rules, we have to change pitchers. That means you, Thumb.”
    A new pitcher gets eight warm-up pitches. I didn’t throw any sidearm, rock-skipping pitches during my warm-up. All eight times I tried to throw like a normal pitcher, with a leg lift and a weight shift and an overhead, almost straight-arm toss of the baseball. None of my warm-up pitches were very good and I could see the Vancouver batters smile at each other. They figured they’d faced our one good pitcher and now they got to hit and hit and hit.
    I pitch left-handed while Susan pitches right-handed. My curving, twisting, rock-skipping sidearm pitch seemed to come straight toward a right-handed batter and then to curve away at the last moment.
    I struck out the first two batters I faced.
    Then Jack Sachmo stepped up to the plate. He’d been watching, and he was ready, except I didn’t throw him the same pitch. I didn’t use the seams to make the ball spin. I just threw it sidearm so that it looked the same as all of my other pitches, but it didn’t curve at all. It went straight, not even close to home plate. It wasn’t a fast pitch, and Jack might have hit it if it had curved. Instead, he swung through the place he expected the ball to be and missed.
    â€œStrike one,” yelled the umpire.
    I threw my curve next but threw it low, so that it was barely above Jack’s shins when it passed home plate. He swung and missed again.
    â€œStrike two,” yelled the umpire.
    I didn’t even try to throw a strike with my third pitch. I threw a curve that would cross inside the plate, close to Jack. He ducked.
    â€œBall one,” said the umpire, holding up his fingers.
    I struck Jack out with a regular curve, and he didn’t even swing.
    It was our turn to bat.
    We scored a run, too. Little Liam hit a ball so far that I think he rounded the bases before it landed. The score was 5 to 3. Two more innings to play.
    I struck out two batters and Big Bette actually caught a fly ball. Vancouver didn’t score any runs.
    We did. Big Bette walked. The pitcher was so worried that Big Bette might drop to all four legs and start running that he tossed a slow pitch to Nick who hit it solidly and managed a