Free The Team That Stopped Moving by Matt Christopher Page B

corner of the plate, but Dick let it go by. The third pitch was the real teaser. He swung at it
     and drilled it over the pitcher’s head. The ball sailed out to center field in a hard, shallow drive, and Dick sped to second
     base for a clean double.
    Eddie, up next, lashed a streaking grounder to second. The second baseman fumbled the ball, and Eddie was safe at first and
     Dick at third.
    “Nice going, Eddie!” Dick yelled across the diamond at him.
    Eddie, smiling, waved a “thank you” to him.
    Jim Tanner fouled the first pitch, then missed the next two for a strikeout. The Tigers groaned as they saw their chances
     for getting up on the scoreboard going down the drain.
    Right fielder Tony Berio came to the rescue, drilling a sharp grounder through short that scored Dick. Eddie raced around
     to third, but perished there as Art flied out to left. Nevertheless, a small roar and a thunder of feet in the stands went
     up as the Tigers broke the barrier. The score was now 15-1.
    “We’re a bunch of dingalings,” Dick heard Stan say to Art as the pair started out to their positions. “And I’m the chief dingaling.”
    “You think it’s too late to quit?” Art said.
    Stan shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    “Well, let’s.”
    Dick listened carefully, finding himself heading toward second base instead of first in order to catch Stan’s reply.
    “No, we’ll wait,” Stan said. “Coach Banks wouldn’t like us to quit right off the bat. Of course, Dick wouldn’t either, but
     who cares what he …”
    Dick glanced over at Stan just as Stan glanced over at him. Stan’s face pinked, and his lips tightened as he looked away.
    “Wouldn’t you know it?” he muttered half under his breath.
    The Panthers picked up two more runs, one from a line drive at Dick that was too hot for him to handle. 17-1.
    In the top of the sixth, the Tigers’ last chance to redeem themselves, Mark Patten uncorked a triple to left center field,
     and scored on Ben’s single. That brought another happy roar from the faithful Tiger fans who apparently felt that their green
     team, withsome luck, might still run up seventeen runs to beat the Panthers.
    Stan’s cannonball shot over second kept up their faith. The blow advanced Ben to third. Andy’s hot drive to short resulted
     in a double play — second to first. Two outs. One man left on.
    “Wake up, Dick,” Stan said as the plate umpire looked toward the dugout for the next batter to appear. “You’re up.”
    Dick shook himself loose from the dream like state into which the Tigers’ scoring spree had put him. He picked up his bat
     and hurried to the plate, his heart pounding, his face hot and sweaty. The first pitch drifted in so slowly that Dick could
     see the colored threads.
    “Strike!” boomed the ump.
    “C’mon, Dick!” Stan cried. “Don’t just stand there! Swing!”
    Phil Sandsted delivered the next pitch almost in the same spot. This time Dickswung.
Smack!
A hard blow to left field! The ball soared like an eagle as Dick dropped the bat and raced for first base. He touched the
     bag and headed for second. But a groan sprang from the fans — the familiar, disappointing sound that meant only one thing,
     an out. He looked out to left field and saw the fielder come running in, the ball nestled in the pocket of his glove.
    The game was over. The Tigers lost it, 17-2.
    “Oh, so what?” Eddie said as he, Dick, and two other guys helped Coach Banks pile the equipment into a couple of canvas bags.
     “We had a lot of fun, anyway. I know I did.”
    “Trouble is, Eddie, everybody doesn’t feel as you and I do,” Dick said sadly.
    “Don’t worry about it,” Coach Banks said. “We were hitting pretty good in that last inning. That ought to be a good sign.
     It was only a practice game, anyway.”
    Dick’s parents and Cindy walked homewith Dick. The elfish smile on Cindy’s face warned Dick that she was just bubbling over with funny things to say to him.
Funny to