The Fenway Foul-Up (5 page)

“Well, before you do that, you may want to see what else is inside the tube,” Grandpa Kevin said.

Nathan popped the cap off the end of the tube and tried to look inside. “It’s too dark,” he said. “What’s in there?”

Nathan’s grandfather smiled. He reached
over and tilted the bottom of the tube up. A tan blur slid out of the tube into Nathan’s waiting hands.

Mike and Kate gasped.

It was Big D’s Green Monster bat!

A Clue

Mike and Kate had found the stolen bat!

Nathan put the poster down and held the bat up to look at it from end to end. The wood of the barrel was polished and shiny. The bat almost seemed too heavy for the little boy to hold.

Kate leaned back in her seat and shook her head. “That’s not the stolen bat,” she declared.

“What?” Mike asked. “It sure looks like Big D’s bat.”

“It also looks brand-new. There isn’t a nick or scuff mark anywhere on it,” Kate said to Mike. “Big D’s Green Monster bat would look used, not new. It’s just a souvenir bat.”

Mike studied the bat for a minute. Kate had a point. There was no way that Big D’s favorite bat would be so clean.

“Okay, so we were wrong,” he whispered. “I really thought that Grandpa Kevin might have stolen the bat.”

Suddenly, the crowd booed loudly. Boston had missed an easy catch and Oakland scored again. It was 3–0, Oakland.

“Nope, but maybe he saw something during batting practice,” Kate said. “Bobby said he was near the railing when Big D was signing autographs. Let’s ask.”

Mike nodded. “Sure,” he said.

Mike cleared his throat loudly. “Ahem. Ah,
excuse me, sir,” he said in a friendly voice.

Grandpa Kevin glanced back at Mike. “Oh, it’s you,” he said with a smile. “Need any sunflower seeds? I still have some left.”

“No, thanks,” Mike said, blushing. “I was just wondering about that bat. It looks like Big D’s bat. The one that was stolen—”

“Stolen?” Nathan interrupted. “Big D’s bat was stolen?”

“Uh-huh,” said Mike. “Someone took it just after batting practice. He’s using a different bat, but it’s not working very well.”

“Let me go give him this one, Grandpa!” said Nathan. “Maybe it’ll help!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” said Grandpa Kevin. “They probably have a rule against that.”

“But he might want it,” Nathan said. “Can I try, please?”

“Okay, okay,” Grandpa Kevin said, smiling. “Go down to the railing and see if the batboy will bring your bat to Big D. But don’t be surprised if he says no.”

The three watched Nathan hurry toward the field. He waved to get Bobby’s attention.

Mike turned back to Grandpa Kevin. “Were you near the dugout when Big D’s bat was stolen?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” Grandpa Kevin said. “I
was
standing by the railing during batting practice. I wanted to get the poster signed before the game, so I could surprise Nathan. But I didn’t see anything suspicious. Big D’s bat was right in front of me on the other side of the infield wall. I could have reached over and touched it if I wanted.”

Kate’s eyes opened wide. “Did you see anyone take the bat?” she asked.

“No.” Grandpa Kevin laughed. “I guess I’d be talking to the police if I did. All I saw was Big D signing autographs, Wally, and the photographer.”

“Oh yeah, we saw the photographer, too,” said Mike. “Do you think maybe he took the bat?”

“I don’t know,” Grandpa Kevin said, pausing to think. “He seemed pretty nice. He told me he’s been following Big D for weeks, taking pictures of him.”

“Were you there when Wally tripped?” Kate asked.

“Yes. But I left right after that,” said Grandpa Kevin. “I figured Big D was done signing autographs, and I went to meet my grandson at the main gate. He was late, so I stopped by the souvenir stand and bought the bat while I was waiting.”

“Hey, look!” Mike said, pointing toward the field.

Nathan was still talking to Bobby, but Bobby was holding the new bat in his hands.

“Well, how about that?” Grandpa Kevin said. “It looks like Big D might use Nathan’s bat after all! Maybe it’ll help. The Red Sox could certainly use the runs.”

Mike and Kate sat back in their seats.

Mike pulled the tennis ball from his jacket and started tossing it in the air. “It doesn’t look good,” he said to Kate.

“I know,” replied Kate. “I don’t have any other ideas of where that stolen bat might be.”

“I’m not talking about the stolen bat,” said Mike. “I’m talking about the game! We already have two outs. Big D isn’t going to hit this inning unless the next guy gets on base.”

The past few innings hadn’t gone well for Boston. The score was still 3–0. With just a couple of innings left, the Red Sox needed to score soon or they’d lose.

Boston’s next batter swung at the first pitch and hit a long, high foul ball. Mike and Kate jumped to their feet to try to catch it. It flew past them, but it was too high to reach. The batter stood at the plate as the next two pitches slid by.

“Ball one!” the umpire yelled after the first pitch.

“Ball two!” the umpire yelled after the second.

Mike stood up with the rest of the crowd. He stamped his feet, clapped, and chanted, “Home run. Home run. Home run.”

While the crowd waited for the pitcher to throw, Kate noticed the photographer scouting out good shots. He was wearing the same jacket with big pockets that they had seen in the pressroom. The photographer snapped shots of all the fans standing and cheering.

Oakland’s pitcher threw again. It was a high fastball over the center of the plate. Taking a small step forward with his left foot, the batter swung the bat around in a long, smooth sweep.

POW!

The hit sounded like a cannon going off. Oakland’s center fielder raced to his right to catch the ball. It wasn’t going to be easy. The ball flew over his head and dropped into the grass.

The center fielder scooped it up, but he bobbled it. The batter blew past first and charged for second. The center fielder got control of the ball and fired it off to second.

The runner reached his arms out and dove toward the base. At the same time, the second baseman caught the ball. He stretched out his glove to tag the runner.

The second-base umpire made a fist with his right hand and yanked it up into the air.

“YOU’RE OUT!” he yelled.

Thousands of boos rained down on the
umpire. The runner stood up. He brushed off the dirt and jogged back to the Boston dugout. The Athletics trotted off the field. Now it was their turn to bat.

One of the Athletics’ best hitters was up. He stood on deck taking practice swings. In between, he rested the bat on the ground.

Kate studied the bat. Although it looked like a new bat, its handle was covered with dark streaks.

Suddenly, she felt a gentle tap on her knee.

It was Grandpa Kevin. “I just thought of something else,” he said. “When I went back to the souvenir stand to buy the bat, I bumped into the photographer. He was pretty friendly with the saleslady there. I didn’t think much about it at the time. But if you think he took the bat …” Grandpa Kevin shrugged.

“That sounds like it might be a clue,” said Kate. “Thanks for telling us.”

Grandpa Kevin went back to watching the game.

Mike turned to Kate. “That’s it! I think the photographer did it,” he whispered. “We saw him in the pressroom just after the bat was stolen. Remember? I’ll bet he stole the bat, put it in the tripod case, and dropped it off in the pressroom!”

Kate nodded along, then frowned. Her forehead wrinkled in concentration. “But why would he stop at the souvenir stand?” she asked.

Mike knew that Kate was always trying to figure out
why
something happened the way it did. He was usually just trying to
make
things happen.

“The saleslady could be in on it, too,” said Mike. “She was reading a travel magazine when I was there. Maybe they’re planning a big getaway! Let’s go check it out!”

A Sticky Situation

Mike and Kate ran back to the souvenir stand. A little girl stood at the counter. She was buying the autographed baseball that Mike had looked at earlier.

When the girl walked away, Kate asked to see the small Red Sox bat in the case. The saleslady handed it to her.

“Let me know if you’d like to buy it, honey,” the saleslady said. She looked down at her magazine. Kate stood on her tiptoes.
She tried to see if anything was hidden behind the counter.

While Kate snooped, Mike’s eyes were drawn to the large TV hanging from the ceiling. Loopy Lenfield had just struck out three Athletics hitters in a row. The first half of the eighth inning was over. Boston would have only two more innings to score some runs.

The saleslady looked up at Kate. Kate put the small red bat back on the counter. Then she noticed the other items clustered around the register, including a jar of Red Sox pencils and pens, some Red Sox toothbrushes, and small bottles of Rawlings Liquid Pine Tar.

Kate picked up a bottle of pine tar. “What’s this?” she asked Mike.

“It’s sap, from a pine tree. It’s sticky.
Players rub it on the handle of a bat to make it easier to grip,” said Mike. “It keeps the bat from slipping out of your hands when you swing hard.”

Kate nodded. She put the bottle down and studied the miniature Red Sox bat that was still lying on the counter.

“Sticky. It makes the bats sticky,” Kate muttered to herself. She seemed lost in thought.

In front of them, the saleslady twirled a pencil in her right hand.

“Thanks for helping me,” Kate said to her. “I’ll come back later after I decide.”

The saleslady nodded without even looking up.

Kate pulled Mike with her toward the back of the store. “Mike,” she whispered, “pine tar makes bats sticky!”

“Yeah,” he said, still distracted by the TV. “And water makes you wet. You’ve really learned a lot lately, haven’t you?”

“Yes, if you want to know, I have,” said Kate with a smile. “In fact, I just learned something important. I found out where the bat is. Want to see it?”

Mike’s jaw dropped. What was Kate talking about? Before he could ask, she took off for the racks on the far wall.