Free Kid Coach by Fred Bowen Page A

Finch
    Reserves
    Eric Jaworski infield
    Brendan Lynch outfield
    Michael Stammoutfield
    Benny the Brain cyberfield
    “It looks pretty good,” Fran said.
    “We’re better coaches than Mr. Skelly,” Drew said.
    Scott laughed, folded the paper, and stuffed it in his pocket. He walked back to the window, desperately looking for some blue sky.
    It was still raining.

T WO
    S cott stood in center field with his hands on his hips, feeling as if he were watching a whole year of baseball go down the drain. It was time for the Tigers—Red Sox scrimmage and Mr. Skelly was nowhere in sight.
    The Red Sox were warming up on the sidelines, firing baseballs back and forth. The Tigers looked like a bunch of kids with nothing to do. Some of the kids played a lazy game of catch while others just hung around the dugout.
    Fran and Drew walked over to Scott.
    “Where’s Mr. Skelly?” Fran asked.
    Scott looked at the ground and shook his head. “Who knows,” he muttered.
    “Well, he better get here soon,” Drew said, pointing to the Tigers bench. “Brendan’s gonna finish off that whole bag of potato chips all by himself.”
    “Man, look at Benny!” Scott said. “He’s reading a book on the bench! I’ll bet the Red Sox are real impressed with us.”
    Scott slammed his glove down on the outfield grass and shoved his hands into his pockets. In his right pocket, he felt a crumpled piece of paper.
    “Hey!” he said, pulling the paper from his pocket and holding it up to show Fran and Drew. It was the Tigers lineup they had dreamed up together. “Why don’t we use this lineup for the scrimmage?”
    “I don’t know about that,” Drew said. “We’re not really coaches. We were just fooling around.”
    “It’s worth a try,” Fran said, shrugging her shoulders. “I just want to play.”
    Scott took the paper and marched up to Mr. Robinson, a tall man with a clipboard. He was the Red Sox coach.
    “Hi, Mr. Robinson.”
    “Hi, Scottie. Where’s Mr. Skelly?”
    “I don’t know. He’s been late a lot this year. But we’re ready to play.”
    Mr. Robinson looked at the Tigers milling around the field. “Are you sure?” he asked.
    Scott nodded and held up the wrinkled piece of paper. “We’ve got a lineup and everything, see?”
    “All right.” Mr. Robinson smiled. “It’s just a scrimmage. I’ll call balls and strikes from behind the mound. You guys want first ups?”
    “No, we’ll take the field,” Scott said. He called out to Drew and Fran, “Come on, we got a scrimmage to play!”
    Drew and Fran smiled at each other and ran to the Tigers bench.
    “Everybody in!” shouted Scott.
    The Tigers all gathered around Scott. “Where’s Mr. Skelly?” Nick asked.
    “I don’t know, but we’ve got a lineup, so listen up.”
    “Can I play infield?” Peter asked.
    “Keep quiet and listen to Scott,” Drew said. “And put those chips down, Brendan!”
    Brendan looked surprised. He put the bag of chips down on the bench and wiped his mouth with his T-shirt.
    “All right, we’re in the field first,” Scott called out. “Drew’s gonna pitch. Danny’s behind the plate. I’m playing short. Fran’s at third. Maggie’s at second and Nick’s at first. Max, you’re gonna start in left. Pete, you’re in center. Sam, why don’t you start in right. I’ll get everybody else in later. Let’s go!”
    The Tigers hustled onto the field. Drew took a few warm-up pitches, and Mr. Robinson called, “Play ball!”
    The leadoff Red Sox batter stepped to the plate and knocked a hard grounder to shortstop. Scott scooted over a few steps to his left, gathered in the grounder, and threw to first.
    “Out,” Mr. Robinson called.
    “All right!”
    “Nice play, Scott!”
    Scott grinned. The Tigers were finally playing some baseball!
    The second Red Sox batter smacked a hard single to center field and then the tall,strong Red Sox slugger, Eddie Wilson, stepped to the plate. “Move back!” Scott called out to his