Steal That Base! (4 page)

he Attica Finches were warming up, so I had to walk the long way around the diamond.

“Chad . . . Chad . . . Hey, Chad!”

I turned. There was a porcupine right behind me. Spike came close enough to whisper. “Remember the little girl outside?” Abby said. “I promised her a bobblehead?”

“Yeah. Her name is Petunia.”

“Petunia!” Abby snapped her fingers. “I couldn't remember her name.”

“How can you forget a name like Petunia?”

“I just remembered it was a flower. I was thinking Rose, Lily, or Violet.”

“Those are normal names,” I said. “I've never heard of anyone named Petunia that wasn't a cartoon character. And a pig.”

“I think it's a pretty name,” said Abby. “But I don't have a bobblehead to give her.”

“
You
didn't get one? But you're Spike!”

“I know! But the bobbleheads are all gone. Every last one.”

“Well, maybe Petunia got into the ballpark before they ran out.”

“No way,” Abby said. “She and her dad were way at the back of the line, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” I thought about the bobblehead back in my locker. I really wanted to keep it. I wanted to collect things from my time with the Porcupines. I already had a signed baseball that Mike Stammer gave me.

“I shouldn't have said I'd get her a bobblehead,” said Abby. “She'll say Spike broke a promise. It'll be in the newspaper. ‘Junior Mascot Lies to Little Girl.'”

“It won't be in the newspaper,” I said.

“Well, what if she goes home sad? What if she never wants to come to another game?” Abby's voice rose higher. “What if she ends up hating the Porcupines?”

“You're right. This is serious . . . Hmm. I have a bobblehead you can give Petunia. I mean, if you can't find one any other way. I have to go work the Finches' dugout, but I can get it during the seventh inning stretch.”

“Promise?” Abby asked.

I gulped. “Sure.”

“Thanks, Chad! You're
a hero!” Abby remembered she was in costume, and shouldn't shout. “Thanks,” she whispered.

• • •

There was a note taped to the fence in front of the Finches' dugout.

The web was still there, and so was the spider. I saw it hiding under one of the links in the fence. Dylan would be happy.

The Finches finished practicing and came back into the dugout.

One of the players sat down and pulled the brim of his cap over his eyes. “Last night's game went way too late.”

“Tell me about it,” said another player.

“Yawn.”

“Zzzz.”

Two seconds later, everybody had to jump up for “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and then it was time to play ball.

Lance Pantaño was pitching for the Pines. He struck out the first batter.

“Nice breeze blowing back here!” Ernie Hecker hollered from the stands.

The next batter for the Finches took an awkward swing at the first pitch and bounced the ball to the shortstop. Mike Stammer fielded the ball and threw to first for the out. He'd been great on defense lately. There were rumors that he would get called back up to the big leagues any day now.

Lance got ready to throw his next pitch, but nobody was in the batter's box.

“Wake up Jonny!” a Finch shouted.

“Yo, Jonny!” A player reached out and tugged on his teammate's foot. “You're batting.”

“What? Oh.” Jonny got up, pushed his cap back, rubbed his eyes, and headed for the plate.

“You'll need this.” I handed him his bat.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

“Hey, pitcher!” Ernie Heckler hollered. “Take it easy on this guy. He looks like he just woke up.”

Jonny yawned and tapped his bat on the plate. The pitch sailed past him. Jonny didn't even lift his bat off his shoulder.

“Umpire, make sure that guy is still alive!” shouted Ernie.

Jonny stepped back and watched another pitch zoom by.

“Strike two!” the umpire shouted. Jonny had forgotten to ask for a timeout. He swung at the third pitch but missed it by a mile. He headed for the dugout and started to sit down.

“That's three outs, Jonny,” said the Finches' manager. “Time to play defense.”

“Oh, right.” Jonny put on his catcher's gear and headed toward the plate.

“Stay awake out there,” shouted the manager. “Don't let them catch you napping.”

Usually that's just a saying, but with this guy it could happen! It might be a good day to steal a base—even for Sammy Solaris.

I ate my lunch while the Porcupines batted. The pasta salad was OK, but it was no corn dog. The baby carrots would have been better with nacho cheese.

Sammy batted fourth in the inning. Tommy Harris was on third and there were two outs. The pitcher walked Sammy on four pitches. It was baseball strategy. If Sammy got a hit, Tommy would score. But since the bases were not loaded, Tommy couldn't score on a walk.

Now would be a good time to steal second. If
the catcher's throw to second base wasn't perfect, the runner on third could come home. They call that a double steal. I looked over at Grumps standing in the Porcupines' dugout. Sometimes he'd slap his legs and his shoulders and tug on the brim of his hat. It was a sign to the base runner. It might mean “steal a base” or “run on contact.”

There was no sign this time. Grumps just stood there and stared at Sammy Solaris. I knew that look from Mom and Dad. It meant: Don't even think about it.

Sammy didn't budge.

Wayne Zane flied out on the first pitch. Then Mike Stammer struck out, and the inning was over. Sammy Solaris didn't get one foot closer to stealing a base.

Victor Snapp's deep voice bellowed over the speaker system. “Please welcome the Porcupines' senior and junior mascots . . . Pokey and Spike!”

The crowd cheered. The two porcupines rolled out in a golf cart and stopped in the infield.

Spike jumped out of the cart and set down a giant boom box. The little porcupine pushed a button and rap music blared. Spike danced and the crowd clapped.

Pokey covered his ears and shook his head. He climbed out of the cart and punched a button on the boom box. The music died.

The crowd played along. They booed Pokey.

Pokey covered his ears but finally gave in and turned the music back on. Spike started dancing again. Everyone cheered.

“I'm with the big porcupine,” Ernie Hecker shouted. “This song is terrible!”

Spike looked up to where Ernie was sitting and thumbed his porcupine nose. The crowd loved it.

ustavo Perez, the Finches' first baseman, poked at the dugout fence. The spider dropped to the turf and scurried away.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Trying to smoosh that spider,” Gustavo said. “Did you see where it went?”

“No—don't!”

“Look, kid, spiders get smooshed sometimes. And I don't like spiders.”

“I know, but Dylan likes that spider.”

“Who's Dylan?”

“He's the other batboy. He's the one who
wrote that note.” I pointed at the paper taped to the fence.

“‘It is not the kind of spider that bites people,'” Gustavus read aloud. “How does your friend know?”

“Because he's really good at science,” I said.

“Spiders eat insects,” the Finches' pitcher said from the bench. His name was Todd Farnsworth. “I'll bet this one gobbles up gnats and mites. Would you rather have gnats and mites in your face, Gus?”

“No,” Gustavo admitted.

“Then leave the kid's pet spider alone.”

The Finches' catcher was sitting next to him. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Maybe that thing can play in the outfield,” he said.

We all looked at him.

“It can catch flies. Get it?”

“Go back to sleep, Jonny,” said the pitcher.

Not much happened for the next two innings. In the bottom of the fourth inning, a couple of the Finches' bench players asked me to fetch some sunflower seeds.

“Three bags of sunflower seeds,” I told the woman at the food stand.

“That's all the Finches want?”