Free Kid Coach by Fred Bowen

O NE
    W hat do you want to do?” Scott Hudson watched the spring rain splash tiny rivers on the living room window.
    “I don’t know,” Scott said. “What do you want to do?”
    Drew Moyers, Scott’s best friend and Tigers teammate, walked across the room and joined Scott at the window.
    “We sure aren’t going to have baseball practice today,” he said.
    Scott shrugged. “What does it matter?” he asked. “Coach Skelly would have been late anyway.”
    “What’s his story?” Drew asked. “He’s always late for practice.”
    Scott searched the skies for a break in the clouds. The sky stayed steely gray. “I don’t know,” he said. “My dad says he’s starting a new business or something.”
    “Remember when his cell phone went off during practice and he answered it like his pants were on fire?” Drew laughed.
    Scott laughed too, but his smile quickly melted into a frown. “He better be there when we scrimmage the Red Sox,” he said.
    “Yeah, but I hope Mr. Skelly doesn’t play Max at third. Max can’t throw,” Drew said. “I think Fran could make the throw from third.”
    Just then, Scott saw a yellow-hooded figure dash across the front yard. “Hey, guess who’s here?” called Scott as he went to open the door. “It’s Fran.”
    Mary Frances McDermott, Scott’s next-door neighbor and teammate, stepped in and shook the rain off her coat. “Hey, guys, what are you doing?”
    “Hey, Fran, can you make the throw from third?” Drew asked.
    “Sure, no sweat,” Fran said. “Why? Doyou think girls can’t throw?” she asked, looking straight at Drew.
    “No, gimme a break,” said Drew, holding up his hands. “We think you should be playing third instead of Max.”
    “So do I. But we’re not coaches. We’re just players,” Fran replied.
    “Hey! Let’s make up a lineup!” shouted Scott. “You know, like who we would start if we were coaching.”
    “Well, there’s nothing else to do,” Drew shrugged.
    “Yeah, let’s do it,” said Fran.
    Scott found a piece of paper and a pencil and sat down in front of the coffee table with his legs underneath him. His two friends sat at either end of the table leaning toward Scott.
    “Okay, let’s start with pitcher,” Scott suggested.
    “That’s a cinch,” Drew said. “You and me pitch. When I pitch, you play shortstop. When you pitch, I’ll play shortstop.” The boys exchanged high fives before Scott wrote down their names.
    “Put Danny at catcher,” Fran said.
    “Yeah, that’s good,” Scott said. “And what about Brendan in the outfield?”
    “Just so long as he’s not near a snack machine,” said Drew. “Boy, does he like to eat!”
    “Okay. How about Max at first?” Scott asked.
    “Nah,” said Drew. “Nick’s taller. He makes a better target.”
    Fran nodded and Scott wrote it down.
    The three friends went through the entire Tigers roster matching players with positions.
    “We forgot Benny,” Fran said. “We gotta put him someplace.”
    “Benny the Brain!” Drew howled. “That computer nerd! He stinks!”
    “He’s not bad,” Fran protested. “He’s a pretty fast runner.”
    “He runs goofy,” Drew said. “It’s like he borrowed someone else’s legs.”
    “You don’t like him because he’s so much better at math than you are,” Fran said.
    “I’m better at math than he is at baseball,” Drew snapped back. “At least I get Csin math. The Brain wouldn’t get a D in baseball.”
    “Let’s get back to the lineup, guys,” Scott said, pointing to the paper. “We gotta play Benny somewhere. What about someplace in the outfield?”
    “Outfield?!” Drew blurted. “We oughta play him someplace in
cyberfield.
”
    Scott laughed and wrote it down.
    “Let’s take a look at what we got,” Fran said. The three teammates studied the lineup.
    TIGERS
    Starters
    P Scott/Drew
    C Danny Perlstein
    1B Nicholas Chu
    2B Maggie Ferris
    SS Drew/scott
    3B Fran
    LF Max Stevenson
    CF Peter Martinez
    RF Sam