Baseball Turnaround (8 page)

He had to get back into center field, where he belonged!

A
ll weekend long, Sandy tried to come up with an argument that would convince Coach Winston to try him at center field again.
But nothing he thought of seemed likely to work.

Then the coach himself provided the opening. At the start of the first Raptors’ practice the following week, he called the
team together at the bench and delivered a little pep talk.

“I think one of the reasons the team didn’t do better last week against the Pelicans is a lack of teamwork. Everyone is taking
it for granted that the other guy will do it. You’ve become a little too settled in your slots. So this week, I’m going to
shift you around. You’ll see what it’s like to play the other guy’s position, and maybe you’ll think a little more about what
you do out there,” he said. “Now, take
fifteen minutes to warm up and come back when I whistle. We’ll have a little practice game just to see what happens.”

When the whistle blew a quarter of an hour later, every member of the team was curious to see where he’d be playing. Although
none of them had any idea, Sandy was a little more anxious than the others. Not only did he not know what position, he wasn’t
even sure he’d be on any roster — after what had happened to end the Pelicans game.

The coach finished the first team, then went on to the second. Sandy was right at the top of the list —at center field!

When the game began, Sandy didn’t have much to do. Tony Cataldo, of all people, was on the pitcher’s mound. He walked the
first three batters until he found the strike zone. Then the fourth went down swinging, and the fifth hit into a double play.

Sandy was slated to bat in the fifth position, so he figured he probably wouldn’t be up that inning. But the pitcher for the
opposing team was Jimmy. Surprisingly, he knew a thing or two about putting the ball across the plate. He let the first batter
reach first on a single that just went by the second
baseman, and then put the next two batters away with strikeouts.

“Hey, pitcher man!”

“Looks like mound material to me, Coach!”

The good-natured cries rang out as Sandy moved toward the plate. And then, suddenly, they quieted down. There was little cheering
as he settled into the batter’s box.

Only the voice of Coach Winston could be heard shouting over to him, “Give that new stance a try again, Sandy.” It made the
silence of the rest of the team more noticeable.

Sandy took a deep breath. Breaking the ice with his teammates after three weeks was going to be tougher than he thought. But
he called back an “okay” to the coach and struck the new stance.

Unfortunately, Jimmy wasn’t giving him much to hit. He fouled one to the first base stand and one to the third base side of
the park. Then he saw a pitch he liked. He swung with all his might.

Crack!

The ball soared high into right field. Mitch Lessem scrambled in for the catch. But suddenly, a second
white object flashed in the sky. It was another baseball, hit into the field by a group of people playing a pickup game!

A split second after Sandy’s ball hit the ground, the second ball landed a few feet away. Mitch ran toward one ball. Ben Eaton,
the center fielder, ran to the other. Intent on making the play, they didn’t see each other until they had fielded the ball
and were about ready to throw. Then they caught sight of each other. Both hesitated in mid-heave, then continued their throws.
The second baseman just ducked out of the way.

Sandy couldn’t help it. As he rounded second base, he started to chuckle. By the time he reached home, he could barely move
he was laughing so hard.

“That was the lamest home run I’ve ever hit!” he gasped. “Coach, how are you going to rule that one? A two-run homer, or an
attempted double play?”

The other players stared at him. Then Ben Eaton started laughing, too. Others joined in. Even Coach Winston grinned.

For the rest of the practice, the players talked
about the incident, changing the story until it had grown in absurdity.

“Sandy had a ball tucked up his sleeve. What happened was, he thought he struck out. Didn’t even realize he’d hit it, he was
so busy digging that ball out from his sleeve and heaving it into center field.”

“No, what happened was, Jimmy fired his pitches down so quickly that Sandy hit the first ball with a regular swing, the second
one when he was pulling the bat back into position!”

“You’re all wrong! You know how Sandy likes to take warm-up swings with two bats? Well, Jimmy decided he’d send down two balls
for him to hit with his two bats. Sandy hit the one as he tossed away the first bat, the second with the bat he was still
holding!”

Sandy laughed along with the rest. For the first time since he’d become a Raptor, he felt like part of the team.

At the end of practice, Coach Winston called them all together. “Tomorrow, I’ll have most of you back playing your old spots.
Some of you may find yourself in new positions. And some,” he added with
a smile, “may find yourself cooling your heels until you shape up and stop all this horsing around!”

As Sandy left practice, he heard something he hadn’t heard for a long time. It was the sound of his teammates calling out
good-byes to him and promises to see him at practice the next day.

T
he next day’s practice started out with a number of routine drills. But it also featured a practice game between two squads
the coach had put together.

Sandy waited eagerly to hear his name called. When it was, he couldn’t help but grin. “Sandy Comstock, center field — second
string.”

Okay, here we go, Comstock
, he said to himself.
Here’s your big chance to show the coach who his first starting center fielder should be. Tony’s an okay guy, but you’re the
better player
.

Sandy played his hardest that game. He dove and jumped for balls, threw hard and accurately, took his time at the plate, and
kept up a constant stream of encouraging chatter. And the other players of the second string responded. For the first time
since the
beginning of the season, the starting squad lost the scrimmage.

The next three days, he stayed in the center field position for the second string. But on Friday, when Coach Winston called
out the roster of starters, Tony Cataldo had been moved to third base — and Sandy Comstock was named for center field.

Coach Winston took both boys aside before the scrimmage. “Listen, Tony, I’m going with Sandy out there because he’s really
shown me something this week. He’s played some stellar ball, and he’s earned a chance. And I want to see what you can do in
the infield.”

Sandy braced himself for a protest.

Tony nodded. “Okay, Coach. Whatever’s best for the team. Sandy seems to know what he’s doing out there. And I wouldn’t mind
a change,” he said simply. And that was that.

Sandy was so psyched to be back in his spot that he almost decided not to follow through on telling his teammates about his
trouble in Grantville. But one day, Perry Warden showed up at the end of practice, and Sandy’s old anxieties came rushing
back. Although Perry stuck around for only a few minutes and avoided him the entire time, Sandy knew he could no longer take
a chance with him.

Sandy’s opportunity to tell his story came the following week. It wasn’t the way he would have chosen, however. During a practice
game that Wednesday, Ben went chasing a wild pitch that flew near the back stand. He was so intent on the ball that he didn’t
see the pole. Two seconds later, he was lying dazed on the ground. The coach called a time-out. Since Sandy was waiting to
bat, he helped the coach get Ben to the bench.

Ben lay down while the coach pressed an ice pack to his forehead.

“Ooh, that’s cold,” Ben mumbled. “Boy, do I feel dumb. Bet you’ve never made a stupid mistake like that before.”

Sandy chuckled. “Well, maybe not on the ball field. But I’ve made some stupid mistakes in my time. Once I made a
really
stupid mistake.”

Ben shifted slightly and looked up at his teammate. “Oh, yeah? What was it? Come on, make a dying man feel better.”

Sandy took a deep breath. He started out slow,
faltering a little as the story spun out and not looking at Ben as he told it. But by the time he reached the part about serving
probation, Ben was sitting up and listening intently. When he had finished, Ben whistled.

“Man, I thought I sensed some tension between you and Perry,” he said. “But I never would have guessed that. I just figured
he was jealous because you were in his old spot on the team.” He was silent for a moment, then turned and looked at Sandy.

“Listen, Sandy, I appreciate your telling me this. Not because I wanted to know all your deep, dark secrets. Remember how
I told you once that Perry had turned kind of mean last year? You found out about that firsthand, I guess, but I really want
you to know that he wasn’t always like that. I think everything just kind of got to him all at once: his parents’ divorce,
having to move right after being a star on the team, leaving all his friends behind, that kind of thing. And I don’t think
he’d ever admit it, but I’m pretty sure the idea of moving from small-town Newtown to big-city Grantville scared him. So he
just kind of took on this tough-guy image, you know?”

Sandy was silent. He thought about how he had been before moving to Newtown: angry, defiant, and mad at his parents all the
time. It was as though he and Perry had switched places in the past year. He wondered if Perry felt the same way. If he did,
Sandy guessed that seeing him in the third base slot had been the last straw.

But understanding the guy didn’t make Sandy feel much better about him. He knew they’d never be buddies — but so long as they
weren’t enemies, he’d take it. He knew he’d do his part to make that happen.

Over the next few days, Sandy’s story made its way around the team. To his relief, he found that most of the players were
interested in what had happened, but not terribly judgmental. Sandy wondered if they understood because they had had some
of their own scrapes and troubles.

Whatever the truth was, Sandy was just glad that he had told his own story. Because now that he had, he could focus on the
really important things — like winning baseball games!

From that moment on, Sandy never let his focus
drift. He concentrated on doing his best, and it showed. His fielding was up to its old Raider standard, and his hitting got
better each time he came up to bat. There was no question that he was a better center fielder than Tony. But since Tony proved
to be a better third baseman than Sandy, everyone came out on top.

T
he day of the last summer league game arrived. It was a bright August afternoon, and the Raptors were preparing to defend
their first-place position against the number-two team, the Hawks.

The Hawks had first ups.

Pitching for the Raptors was Mitch Lessem. He kept the action in the infield and gave up only one hit before retiring the
side.

The Raptors didn’t do that well when their turn came. Mark struck out, Frank hit one straight into the waiting glove of the
Hawks’ shortstop, and Tony bobbled one down to first but couldn’t outrun the peg.

Mitch held the Hawks hitless at the top of the second, giving up his first walk of the game but fanning
two batters in a row. Still, the outfield hadn’t seen much action.

Sandy led off for the Raptors at the bottom of the second inning. As he walked toward the plate, he paid a lot more attention
to the sounds that followed him from the dugout. Those were his teammates shouting encouragement.

“Go, you Raptor!”

“Come on, Sandy, you can do it!”

“Eye on the ball, champ!”

Over toward third base, he saw a familiar face in the stands: Perry Warden. But instead of letting that spook him, Sandy just
smiled. He cared more about his team. He knew he had to do his best for them. He could do that only by concentrating on everything
he had learned from every coach who had helped him with his batting.

First he waited for the release before really focusing on the ball. He made sure he was balanced, with his feet spread wide
apart. He relaxed his muscles, particularly his grip on the bat, not trying to squeeze it to death. Then, as the ball came
his way, he shifted his weight to his back leg and turned his front
shoulder inward. When he decided to go for it, he moved his weight forward, with his front leg slightly bent. At the moment
of contact, he locked his front leg and let his back leg and hip explode toward the ball. His front arm was fully extended,
his back arm and hand remained behind the bat.

Craaaack!

The ball went soaring into the sky, curving slightly toward left field. It reached the top of its arc somewhere in midfield
before it began to drop — behind the fence.

Home run!

Sandy had come through to launch the Raptors on their way. He rounded the bases, head down and arms churning. As he crossed
home plate, he was instantly surrounded by teammates slapping high fives on him and hugging him as hard as they could.

But the game was far from over. In the next two innings, Mitch loosened his iron grip. The top of the Hawks’ batting order
torched the Raptors pitcher for two runs that put the Hawks ahead 2–1.

In his second time at bat, Sandy had waited out the pitcher and walked after a full count. But no one had been able to send
him home. As he came to bat
in the fifth inning, he was anxious to fire things up for the Raptors. Frank had managed to hit one deep into right field
and outrace the peg to second for a double. He was a fast runner and might score if Sandy could give him something to travel
on. Sandy decided he would try to give him his ticket.

After waiting out two low and outside pitches, he picked a high ball that started to drop as it neared the plate. He swung
with all his might and smoked a liner that popped in and out of the Hawks’ second baseman’s glove. Frank took off like a speeding
bullet and beat the throw home. Sandy had chalked up a game-tying single.