The Fenway Foul-Up
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2011 by David A. Kelly
Illustrations copyright © 2011 by Mark Meyers
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kelly, David A.
The Fenway foul-up / by David A. Kelly ; illustrated by Mark Meyers. — 1st ed.
p. cm. — (Ballpark mysteries ; #1)
“A Stepping Stone Book.”
Summary: Cousins Mike and Kate are at Boston’s Fenway Park when the Red Sox’s star hitter discovers that his lucky baseball bat has been stolen.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89816-7
[1. Baseball—Fiction. 2. Stealing—Fiction. 3. Cousins—Fiction. 4. Fenway Park (Boston, Mass.)—Fiction. 5. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Meyers, Mark, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.K2934Fe 2011 [Fic]—dc22 2010008521
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.1
To my parents, Kevin and Nancy, who show rather than tell when it comes to life
.
—
D.A.K
.
To Kasidy—thanks for being my muse. —M.M
.
“I don’t want to play golf. When I hit a ball, I want someone else to go chase it.”
—
Rogers Hornsby
The Green Monster“Watch out!” Kate yelled.
Boston’s best batter, Big D, had just hit another rocket. The baseball was headed straight to the top of Fenway Park’s left-field wall, right where Kate Hopkins and her cousin Mike Walsh were standing.
“Yowza!” Mike ducked down as the ball sailed overhead. “That one is out of here!”
Mike and Kate watched it fly over the wall of the stadium toward the sunny city
street below. They waited to hear the clunk of the ball hitting a car’s hood. Or shattering glass as it hit a windshield.
But all they heard was a loud
thud
and a soft
thunk
. No crunch. No smash of glass. No car alarms.
Mike scampered up to the railing that overlooked the street. The ball bounced against the wall of a parking garage. A little girl in yellow overalls chased the ball as it rolled down the sidewalk.
“Aww … why didn’t it land near us?” Mike asked. He pulled a worn tennis ball out of his fleece jacket and bounced it against the cement steps a few times. He carried a ball everywhere he went. “I’ve always wanted a real major-league baseball.”
“If Big D had hit it at you, it would have knocked your head off,” Kate answered. She
took off her baseball cap and slipped her long brown ponytail through the hole in the back of the cap. “At least then you wouldn’t be able to think about baseball. It’s all you do.”
Mike couldn’t argue with that. He did spend a lot of time playing baseball. And talking about it. And watching it. Last year he even started a baseball website. That was why he was so excited to be at Fenway Park, watching batting practice.
Kate’s mom, Mrs. Hopkins, worked as a sports reporter for a popular website, American Sportz. She was covering that day’s baseball game between the Boston Red Sox and the Oakland A’s.
Kate lived with her mom in Cooperstown, New York. Mike lived down the block. His mom and Kate’s mom were sisters.
Mike, Kate, and Kate’s mom had left at seven that morning and driven to Boston. Mrs. Hopkins was in the pressroom, but Mike and Kate were using their special “All Access” passes to explore Fenway Park. They had started at the seats on top of Fenway’s giant left-field wall. The thirty-seven-foot-high wall was painted dark green and ran from left field to center field. It was known as the Green Monster.
Mike turned his attention back to the field. “Hey, watch the way Big D stands in the batter’s box.” Mike pointed to home plate. “He has an open stance. His back foot is closer to the plate than his front foot. It’s what gives him power to hit like that.”
Even from far away, Big D’s arm muscles stood out through his uniform. He was tall and strong and always had a big grin on his
face. Big D was one of Boston’s most popular players.
“Do you see the bat he’s using?” Mike went on. It was a light-colored wooden bat with a dark green ring dividing the handle from the barrel of the bat. “It’s his good-luck charm, like a four-leaf clover. He calls it his Green Monster—just like the wall.”
Pow!
Big D hit another ball out of the park. Across the field by the Boston dugout, a small group of fans cheered. They had come early for batting practice, too.
“Didn’t he try to use a bright green bat in a game once?” Kate asked. “What happened to it?”
Mike was the expert when it came to baseball. But Kate knew a lot about everything else. She read all the time—books, newspapers, websites, anything she could find.
“Yup, but it wasn’t allowed,” Mike told her. “According to the rules, bats have to be black, brown, or natural. So now Big D just uses a regular bat. But he still calls it the Green Monster.”
After he batted, Big D headed back to the dugout. The fans crowded the railing and chanted, “Big D, Big D, Big D!”
Big D leaned his bat against the low wall in front of the seats. He took off his hat and waved. The fans went wild. Many of them held out baseballs, hats, and other souvenirs for Big D.
Big D started signing autographs. A photographer trailed behind him, taking pictures. He carried a long black tripod case slung over his shoulder and a camera with a big lens.
“I knew we should have waited over
there,” Mike said. “We could have gotten Big D’s autograph.”
“Maybe next time,” Kate said. “It’s cool that he’s signing so many.”
While Big D greeted the fans, Wally, the Red Sox’s big furry green mascot, came trotting down the first-base line toward home plate. He waved to the people near the dugout, but then he tripped and sprawled face-first on the grass.