Free Shortstop from Tokyo by Matt Christopher Page B

bat met ball and sent it hopping like a frightened rabbit between first and second. Stogie rounded third and scored.
     The throw-in held Bob at first.
    “All right, Fuzzy-wuzzy,” said Dennis. “Practice what you preach.”
    “Got your movie camera?” asked Fuzzy. “I’d like to do a commercial first.”
    “Get up there and hit!” Coach Dirkus hollered at him.
    Larry Hill stretched and delivered. The throw went into the dirt and past the catcher’s mitt to the backstop screen. Bob Sobus
     trotted to second.
    “Three more like that and you’ll have it made, Fuzzy!” yelled Beak.
    Larry Hill didn’t throw three more like that. He sizzled two over the plate, then one up around Fuzzy’s neck which Fuzzy swung
     at and missed. “Strike three!”
    “Guess you should’ve done a commercial anyhow,” said Stogie, running out with him. “You might’ve made a hit.”
    Fuzzy laughed. “Wasn’t my fault there wasn’t a camera around!”
    Stretch Servo, the Mohawk pitcher, walked the Copperhead lead-off hitter. The next batter hit a clothesline drive to Stogie.
     One out. Stogie whipped it to first and picked off the runner before he could tag up. Two outs! The third Copperhead took
     two strikes in a row, then lined a drive between right and center for two bases. The next batter singled, driving himin. Stretch mowed the fifth batter down with three pitched strikes.
    “Start it off, Bernie,” said the coach at the top of the second inning.
    Right fielder Bernie Drake did —with a pop-up. Tony Francis singled, then Stretch went down swinging. Lead-off man Russ Russo
     took two called strikes, then laced a single through short. Tony galloped around second and held up at third.
    “Knock him in, Beak!” yelled Fuzzy. “Don’t let ’im die there!”
    Beak fanned.
    The Copperheads picked up two runs, one of them on an error by Fuzzy. Stogie, leading off in the top of the third, took a
     hard-swinging cut at the first pitch and belted it a mile. Only it was straight up. It came down from its dizzying heightand the Copperhead third baseman caught it.
    “Too bad,” said Sam. “Should be that way.” He pointed toward left field.
    “I know,” said Stogie, squeezing between a couple of guys on the bench.
I wonder if Coach Dirkus figures on playing Sam
, he thought.
    Jim Albanese doubled. Bob Sobus walked. Then Fuzzy Caliel swung all the way around on a slow pitch — swung hard enough to
     drive the ball into the next state. But the little white apple did nothing but dribble down toward third. Fuzzy dropped his
     bat and scampered for first as if a ghost were after him, and made it. The cheers that exploded from the fans were the loudest
     Fuzzy had received so far this year.

    “Bases loaded!” yelled Beak. “Clean ’em, Bernie! You’re due, man!”
    Bernie tripled.
    “There ya go!” cried Beak, clapping furiously.
    Tony struck out and Stretch flied out to finish the big three-run inning.
    Stretch retired the first Copperhead on five pitches, then walked the next one. Stogie came in slightly and moved a few steps
     closer to second as a left-hand batter strode to the plate. The lefty blasted a long high fly to center which sent Beak Peters
     back a dozen steps. He caught the ball and pegged it in, holding the runner on first.
    The next hitter uncorked a drive that went looping over Stogie’s head. Stogie ran back sideways, gloved hand stretched out,
     his eyes on the ball that seemed to befloating through the air like a balloon. It skimmed his glove and struck the grass. He caught the bounce, looked back, and
     saw the runner arriving at second base. No play. He relayed the ball to Fuzzy, who carried it halfway to Stretch before tossing
     it to him.
    The next batter hit a high grounder to Fuzzy, who touched third for a force-out. Three away.
    Mohawks 5, Copperheads 3. The top of the fourth coming up.
    “Stogie, I want Sam to hit for you,” said the coach. “Ready, Sammy?”
    Sam beamed. “Ready all the