Free Roberto & Me by Dan Gutman

extended and his back to home plate. The ball somehow stuck in the web of his glove, and he crashed into the wall at full speed.
    But that was only half of it. The runner on second, seeing Clemente make the miraculous catch, tagged up and headed for third base. Clemente picked himself up off the dirt, spun around, and came up throwing. His arm was a blur. It was like a bullet flew out of it. All you could see was a white dot that came shooting out of the rightfield corner. The ball took a perfect one-hop and landed in the third baseman’s glove. He didn’t have to move it an inch. He swiped a tag on the runner as he slid into third.
    When the umpire called the runner out, there was a gasp in the ballpark. Clemente had thrown the ball the length of a football field…for a strike. Nobody can throw a baseball that far, that accurately.
    â€œ ¡El magnifico! ” somebody shouted. Even the Reds fans were on their feet cheering after the play.
    â€œDid you see that?” I asked Sunrise.
    â€œUnbelievable,” she agreed.
    Then, picture this: In the fifth inning, a guy on the Reds hit a routine single to rightfield. Every outfielder knows what to do in that situation. You throw the ball to second base so the runner doesn’t stretch a single into a double. Well, Clemente didn’t play it that way.
    He came charging in quickly to field the ball. Butinstead of picking it up with his glove hand, he barehanded it on the run. That way he didn’t waste any time switching the ball over to his throwing hand. And instead of throwing to second base, he whipped the ball behind the runner to first. The runner had already made a turn at the first-base bag that was just a little too wide. By the time he realized the throw went to first, it was too late to get back. The first baseman tagged him out. Clemente had turned a hit into an out.
    In the sixth inning, there was another single to right by the Reds. This time Clemente went to field the ball, but it ticked off his glove and bounced about ten feet away. The runner, seeing that the ball had been bobbled in rightfield, decided to try for second. But Clemente picked up the ball and gunned him down. I had no doubt that Clemente muffed the play on purpose , hoping the runner would take the bait and he would have the chance to throw the guy out at second. I had never heard of an outfielder deliberately making an error to fool a runner like that.
    But the most amazing play of the game was in the bottom of the seventh inning. There were no outs. The Reds had runners at first and second. The Cincinnati pitcher was up. It was an obvious sacrifice situation. As expected, the pitcher squared around and bunted. It was a good one, past the pitcher’s mound on the right side of the infield. Bob Moose couldn’t field it. The Pirates second baseman was running to cover the base, so he couldn’t get it. And the first basemanwas covering the bag, so he couldn’t get it either.
    So who comes rushing in all the way from rightfield to grab the ball? Clemente! He scooped it up and fired to third in time for the force play.
    An outfielder involved in a bunt play? Unheard of!
    Clemente even had a flair when it came to flipping the ball in to the infield. He looped it in underhand. Nobody else did that.
    I couldn’t take my eyes off him the whole game. There was something different about the way Clemente swung the bat, ran the bases, chased after a fly ball, and threw, and even the way he walked out to rightfield. It was recklessness combined with grace. And there was a quiet dignity to his manner.
    â€œThere’s something almost royal about him,” Sunrise said as Clemente jogged back to the Pirates dugout at the end of the seventh inning.
    Royal . That was the word Flip had used when he’d been talking about Clemente. Flip said it was impossible to describe in words the way Clemente played the game. You had to see it with your own eyes. He was right.