Steal That Base! (8 page)

ylan and I searched the field for an hour after the game. We found plenty of bugs but no spiders.

“You know,” I said, “a spider is pretty small, and a ballpark is really big.”

“I know,” Dylan replied. “What's one little spider, anyway? There are billions of spiders in the world.”

But he kept searching the grass.

“I'm going home,” I said. “I have to get back in time for supper.” I stood up and jogged toward the locker room. Just in the nick of
time, I spotted a tiny black splotch against the white line around the on-deck circle. I almost smooshed it but stopped short. I hopped a couple of times before I got my balance. I knelt and took a closer look. Something wiggled. It could have been Dylan's spider, but it was hard to be sure.

“
Psst
. Dylan.” I waved him over and pointed.

“Is that Sparky?”

“I think so.” He put his hand out and let the spider crawl into his palm.

“And you're sure it's not the biting kind?”

“Yep. Unless you're an insect,” said Dylan. “I'm going to move him
outside the ballpark. Too many people stamping around in here.”

“That's all baseball is to you?” I asked. “People stamping around?”

“I guess it is fun sometimes,” Dylan admitted. The spider tried to crawl out of his hand. He swapped it into his other hand. “When the two guys were chasing Sammy back and forth. And when the mascot tore across the field. That was awesome.”

“Yeah. Those sure were highlights. And you know, when Sparky makes a web. That's pretty awesome, too.”

“Well, it's not exactly a high-speed chase,” he said.

“Neither was that rundown!”

He laughed. “Thanks for helping me find Sparky,” he said. “I just like animals. No matter how small. Some people don't get it.”

“It's not much different being a big fan of Single-A baseball,” I told him.

• • •

There was a green car parked in our driveway. I saw it from the corner and took off running. I would know that car anywhere, even before I saw the ballpark bumper stickers plastered all over it.

“Uncle Rick!” I shouted, banging through the front door.

“Hey, it's the all-star batboy!” Uncle Rick jumped up to give me a hug. He looks like Dad, but with more hair and less stomach. It turned out he'd just arrived, and Mom and Dad hadn't even known he was coming. Uncle Rick lives in the city. He explained that he'd been driving back from a trade show and took a detour to surprise us.

Uncle Rick is the biggest baseball fan I
know. He's the one who explained the rules of the game to me when I was little, and taught me all the ballpark slang, and showed me how to keep score. He even gave me all his baseball cards. That was huge. I knew Uncle Rick loved those cards. “They just sit around at my place,” he'd said. “I don't have much time to enjoy them, but you do.”

When Uncle Rick goes on vacation, he figures out a route where he can see as many baseball games in as many different ballparks as he can. Some years he goes to spring training in Florida or Arizona. I hope one day he'll take me with him. Uncle Rick has a great life for a grown-up, even if he spends most of his days selling dental supplies.

Over dinner I told Uncle Rick all about being a batboy. I told him about Grumps's nickname and Wally's mustache and Wayne
Zane's bad jokes. I told him about Mike Stammer's unassisted triple play and Sammy Solaris's stolen base.

“You never know what's going to happen,” Uncle Rick said. “That's why I never leave until the game is over.”

“I did leave a game before it was over,” I admitted. “It was just last night. I missed a great walk-off hit.”

“I made him do it,” Dad explained. “It was way past his bedtime.”

“Well, do what your parents say, even when they're wrong.” Uncle Rick winked and got himself some more spaghetti. “I left a game early once,” he admitted. “I found out later the pitcher finished a no-hitter. I could have been there for a historic moment, but I left after only four innings.”

“
Why
?” I couldn't believe that Uncle Rick
of all people would leave in the middle of a no-hitter.

“I found out my nephew was coming, and I wanted to be there to meet him,” he said.

“What?” I was his only nephew, and I didn't remember that. Then I realized what he meant—the day I was born.

“I can't believe you missed a no-hitter for
that
,” I told him.

“Well, it was only the fourth inning,” he said. “I didn't
know
it was going to be a no-hitter . . .”

Mom and Dad laughed, but I think Uncle Rick was being serious.

ncle Rick spent the night. We have a small house, but the couch in the office pulls out into a bed.

“Are you driving home after breakfast?” I asked him.

“Well, I was hoping to see a ball game,” he said. “I want to root for my favorite batboy. I just hope there is a game.” He pointed out the window at dark, gloomy clouds. “It looks like a big storm is coming.”

Sure enough, it started drizzling when I was out walking Penny. I tried to jog home,
but she started panting and I had to slow down.

“Sorry, girl. I forget how short your legs are.” She used to keep up with me, but my legs used to be shorter. Besides that, she was getting plump. Mom was right.

We were both damp when we got home.

“Did Wally call?” I asked. I was afraid they'd canceled the game already.

“Nope,” said Dad. He was in his favorite chair, reading a thick book about farming in the Middle Ages. He's always reading thick books about weird things.

“Are you coming with us?” Uncle Rick asked him.

Dad shook his head. “Sorry. I'll be at the next game. I really want to finish this book. There's another one I want to get to.”

“Is it about the history of the rutabaga?” Uncle Rick guessed. “Or how worms worm?”

“Fungi,” said Dad. “It looks really interesting.”

“Well, at least a book has never been called on account of rain,” said Uncle Rick. “Let's go, Chad!”

• • •

The ticket office wasn't open yet, but the guard let both of us in.

“Morning, Chad!” he told me. I felt pretty cool leading a grown-up past the gate and into the “Employees Only” entrance.

“I've never been behind the scenes like this,” Uncle Rick said.

“Really?”

“I've been to a lot of ballparks, but I've never seen the guts of one,” he admitted.

“Wow.” I couldn't believe it. I could actually teach Uncle Rick something about baseball!

Wally had just made coffee, and the
machine was whistling and blowing steam.

“Wally, this is my uncle Rick. Is it OK if I give him a tour?”

“It's all right with me, as long as you get everything done,” Wally said. “There probably won't be a game, anyway. They just never call it until the last minute.”

Some of the players were sitting on the benches in the locker room.

“Hey, guys, this is my uncle Rick.”

“Teddy Larrabee.” Teddy shook his hand. “You got a good batboy for a nephew.”

“He's not only good, he's great,” Mike Stammer said. “I'm Mike Stammer.”

“You're the one with the unassisted triple play!” Uncle Rick said.

“Yep,” said Mike.

“Chad's more than great,” said Wayne. “He's outstanding in the field. Especially during
batting practice. Ha! Get it?” Nobody laughed. “Just sayin',” he added.

“And you must be Wayne Zane,” said Uncle Rick.

• • •

There was a bolt of lightning and a crash of thunder during batting practice. It started to pour. We ran off the field so the crew could roll out the tarp. Uncle Rick had gone to buy his ticket, but he'd probably have to take a rain check.

Sammy was in the dugout studying the Bengie Molina card.

“Can I keep this a while longer?” he asked.

“I guess.” I didn't like breaking up my page of Molina brothers in the binder. “If you think it'll help you steal another base.”

“I don't need to steal another base,” said Sammy. “I just wanted to steal one in my career,
and now I have. But I see here that Bengie's got five triples.” He pointed at the stats on the card. “I think he hit another one since then, too. I want to hit a triple before I'm done.”

“Did your niece put you up to it?”

“No, I wanna do this one for me.” Sammy tucked the card into his pocket. “By the way, I think I'll skip the corn dogs today. I need to put my mind to dropping a few pounds.”

I started setting up the bat rack, knowing it was probably for nothing.

“The game is now postponed,” Vincent Snapp announced over the PA system. “You can exchange your ticket stub for any remaining Porcupines' game this season. Thanks for coming, and try to stay dry!”

I hoped that Uncle Rick had made it to the ticket office. If he had bought a ticket,
then he'd have to come back this summer and see a game. Dylan came running from the other dugout.

“Guess we get a day off,” he said. “But I hope Sparky's all right out there.”

“Spiders can take a little rain,” I said. “If they couldn't, there wouldn't be any spiders left.”