Free The Team That Stopped Moving by Matt Christopher

1
    H IS FINGERS played a nervous tattoo on the receiver as Dick Farrar asked himself for the umpteenth time
Should I or shouldn’t I? Why can’t I make up my mind?
    Quickly he snapped up the receiver as if this time speedy action would solve his problem. But again he struggled with his
     thoughts and had to put it back down.
    “Man! That’s the second time you picked up that telephone and changed your mind,” a voice said, startling him. “What’s eating
     you?”
    Dick turned and met the elfish grin of his younger sister, Cindy. “I need two more players to make up a baseball team, and
     the league starts in two weeks, that’s what,” he said, somewhat bitterly. “The only guys I know of who aren’t on a team yet are
     Art Walker and Stan Parker. Stan is good, but I heard he and his coach had a fight last year so he’s sitting out this year.
     Maybe he’ll play for us, but you know how Stan and I get along.”

    “Yeah. Like cats and dogs,” said Cindy. “Why don’t you call up Art and someone else besides Stan?” she suggested.
    “Oh, sure. Haven’t you seen those two? They’re like Siamese twins. One doesn’t go anywhere without the other.”
    Cindy shrugged. “In that case you’ll either have to put up with ‘em or forget about having a team.”
    Dick’s lips pressed into a straight, firm line. “Not me,” he snapped. “I’m not going to give up
that
easy. I’m going to start up a new team and build it up into the winningest one in the league. That’s my resolutionand I’m not going to back down — even if it means having that bigmouth Stan Parker on my team.”
    His sister laughed. “How come you’re so sure he’ll want to play with you?”
    “I’ll bet on it,” he said. He picked up the receiver for the third time, and this time went through with it. He dialed, got
     Art, and explained what he wanted to do.
    “Have you asked Stan?” Art asked when he was finished.
    Dick shot his sister a didn’t-I-tell-you-so? look. “No, I haven’t,” he answered.
    “Well, ask him first, then call me back. Okay?”
    Dick glared at the receiver, felt like plunging it down hard to burst Art’s eardrum, but controlled himself.
    “Okay. I’ll give Stan a ring,” he said, anger mounting like a volcano inside him. He called Stan, and it ended up just as
     he thought it would. Stan said that he’d play ifArt did. He also wanted to choose his own position — shortstop — which, to keep the peace, Dick also agreed to.
    “Well, you’re all set,” said Cindy, after he told her the outcome of his phone calls. “Now all you need is a coach and a sponsor.”
    “I’ve already got them,” said Dick. “Steve Banks, a former semipro ballplayer, is our coach. I told him that I wanted to form
     a new team to enter in the league and would he coach it if I did. He said sure. The Cool Acres Restaurant will sponsor us.
     They’ll get us our uniforms, caps and balls.”
    “Well!” said Cindy, brushing back a strand of loose hair that had fallen over her face. “Guess you’ve been busy! What are
     you calling the team? I suppose you’ve already thought of that, too?”
    “Of course. I’m calling it the Tigers.”
    “Tigers? Why so original?”
    Dick glared at her. “Because with so many other teams already in the league, wehad little to choose from. That’s why, smarty!”
    At the Tigers’ first practice, Coach Banks let the boys choose their own positions, although most of them didn’t care where
     they played. They were pleased enough just to be playing.
    For two hours every day before the league started, the Tigers were at one of the two baseball fields in town, practicing diligently
     under Coach Banks’ direction in order to be a strong contender in the baseball league. Dick fretted after the first few days,
     however. Beyond a doubt Stan Parker was the best athlete on the team. His catches at shortstop and his throws to first base
     were those of a guy who had played a lot of