Catcher with a Glass Arm (2 page)

“He’s out there, but not with his golf clubs,” observed Rabbit. “He has the bat, ball, and gloves. Guess he wants to give
us a workout, Jody.”

“We’re going to have some throwing practice,” said Dad. “Rabbit, take this glove and get down there about where second base
would be. Jody, put on your mitt. I’ll get halfway between, about where the pitcher’s box would be. I want to see you throw
that ball, Jody. In those games I’ve seen I can tell that you’re holding back. You’re not throwing that ball at all as you
should.”

So that was it,
thought Jody.
And I never even thought he cared how I threw!

Dad laid the bat aside and threw the baseball to Jody. “Okay. Throw it back to me,” he said.

Jody threw it easily. Too easily. It struck the ground two feet in front of his father.

“Throw them up here, Jody!” said Dad, holding his glove against his chest.

Jody tried again. Still low.

“You’re straining too hard, Jody,” said Dad. “Snap your wrist. Like this.”

Jody watch his dad move his wrist back and forth as if it worked on a hinge. Then he tried to do the same thing. He succeeded,
and a pleased smile came to his lips.

He threw the ball to his dad. It floated through the air like a balloon.

“Why are you afraid to throw that ball?” cried Dad. “Why?” He was almost angry.

Jody shrugged. “I don’t know.” He really didn’t. He
wanted
to throw the ball hard. He
wanted
to snap it as his dad did. But he couldn’t.

“All right,” said Dad. “Throw it to second.”

Jody reared back and pegged the ball over his dad’s head. It hit the ground and bounced twice before it reached Rabbit.

Dad didn’t like that at all. He shook his head from side to side.

“Try it again, Jody. Keep your feet straight and don’t move them. Bring that ball back over your shoulder and then snap it
like a whip.”

Jody tried it. He threw the ball fairly straight, but it was low. It went directly at Dad, and he caught it.

“That’s the idea,” said Dad. “But aim at Rabbit.”

Jody aimed at Rabbit, but Rabbit wasn’t where he threw the ball. Dad had him try again and again, making Jody practice short
throws to him and long throws to Rabbit. Once in a while Jody threw the ball exactly where he was supposed to. But most of
the time he didn’t.

“Oh, Jody!” cried Dad finally.
“How
can I teach you? I
know
you can throw a ball harder than that.”

Dad’s face was red. You could tell he was angry. He was sweating, too. They had been out here at least an hour.

“Put the stuff back into the car,” Dad said. “We’ll have to leave soon, anyway. There’s a storm coming.”

He walked with giant strides across the park, leaving the boys to gather the bat, ball, and gloves. Jody watched his back.
A lump formed in his throat and stuck there.
He’s disappointed in me. But what can I do? I’ve tried as hard as I can.

A wind came up suddenly. It whipped the tops of trees and shook leaves loose from their branches. Everything and everybody
were in the car when the first big drops of rain splashed against the windshield. Midnight huddled like a black ball on Jody’s
lap,
purring. Dad started the car and drove it hurriedly out of the park.

The rain fell thicker and harder. Black clouds swirled and twisted in the sky. Forks of lightning pierced the clouds.

Dad slowed the speed of the car. The windshield wipers were whipping back and forth, but the rain came down so hard that the
wipers were hardly doing any good.

“I’ll park off the road as soon as I find a place,” said Dad. “This is certainly bad, but it won’t last.”

Suddenly a great blinding flash lit up the half-darkened sky. Everything seemed to turn white for one instant. Then a terrible
sound filled the air.

Just ahead of them Jody saw a tree break in the middle and collapse across the road!

“Dad! Watch it!” he screamed, and hugged Midnight tightly against him.

From the rear seat Mom and Diane let
out frightened cries. Dad shoved in the brake pedal. The car swerved, then stopped. Luckily he was driving slowly. But Jody
heard a
bump
beside him. He turned and stared at Rabbit lying with his head back against the seat. His eyes were closed, and a red welt
stuck out on his forehead!

“Rabbit!” Jody cried, and shook his friend by the arm. “Rabbit!”

Rabbit didn’t move.

Jody turned wide, horrified eyes at his Dad.

“Dad,” he whispered, “is he dead?”

D
ad leaned across Jody’s lap. He lifted Rabbit’s head.

“Rabbit!” he said, rubbing the boy’s cheeks with his hands. “Wake up, son.”

Rabbit’s eyes blinked open. He moaned and lifted a hand to the bump on his forehead.

Jody took a deep breath and smiled with relief. “Boy! You had me scared!”

“Sorry, Rabbit,” said Dad. “You smacked your head against the window when I swerved. I’ll wet my handkerchief. You can
hold it against the bruise to help stop the pain.”

He opened the window on his side and held out his handkerchief in the rain. When it was real wet, he squeezed most of the
water out of it, folded it several times, and put it against the bruise on Rabbit’s head.

“There you are,” said Dad. “Now just hold it there awhile.”

Jody looked at his friend with an ache in his heart. That was only a bump, but Rabbit’s face looked very pale. He didn’t look
well at all.

“Are we in a pickle!” murmured Dad.

Jody looked at him, then looked outside. Tree limbs were hanging over the roof of the car, and the tree trunk was blocking
their path in front of them.

“Guess we’re stuck,” said Jody.

“Thank God we didn’t get hit by that
tree,” said Mom. “Looks as if we’ll just have to sit here until the rain stops and somebody removes it.”

“Your deduction is quite correct, Martha,” replied Dad.

The black clouds twisted and spiraled away, and the rain stopped almost as quickly as it had begun.

“I’m going out a minute,” said Rabbit, and opened the door.

“Rabbit!” Dad shouted. “No! Close that door and keep it closed!”

Rabbit slammed the door and turned a white face and wide, terrified eyes to Jody’s father.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Sinclair,” murmured Rabbit. “I almost forgot. That tree could have pulled down some wires. Dangerous wires.”

Dad looked seriously at Rabbit. “That’s right, Rabbit. By stepping outside you could have really injured yourself.”

“I know,” said Rabbit. “I just wasn’t thinking, I guess.”

A few minutes later a car came alongside them and stopped. It was the first car they had seen since the tree had been struck.
A man and woman were in the car.

“Has anybody gone to get help for you?” yelled the man.

“No,” replied Dad. “We’ll be very much obliged if you’ll report this to the police, sir.”

“We’ll do that,” said the man, and drove off.

In less than ten minutes, a large truck with tools and equipment piled on it drove up. Four men got out. One was carrying
a chain saw. Another approached Dad.

“Everybody all right, sir?” he asked.

“Quite all right, except for one young passenger,” said Dad. “He banged his head against the window when I hit the brakes.”

The man shook his head. “Sorry to hear
that, but it could’ve been worse. That tree pulled down a few wires with it. The lines are dead now. You can move on once
there’s room.”

“Thank you very much,” said Dad.

The four men went to work on the tree and before too long had cleared a path. Dad drove away, waving back to them.

“Well,” said Mom, “that was an experience I’ll never forget as long as I live.”

“Me, too,” said Diane.

Jody didn’t say anything. He was thinking about Rabbit. How badly was he hurt? Would he be able to play in Wednesday’s game?
Without Rabbit playing shortstop, the team would hardly have a chance against the Gophers. And if Rabbit didn’t play, the
whole team would blame Jody.

I wish it was me who got hurt
—
not Rabbit,
thought Jody.

W
hen the game rolled around Wednesday evening against the Gophers, Rabbit Foote was not in the lineup. His head was still swollen.
The doctor had said that he had better not play baseball for a week at least.

Jody was nearly sick all day thinking about it. He blamed Dad a little, too, at first. But then, it wasn’t Dad’s fault that
a storm had come up and a bolt of lightning had struck the tree and knocked it down. That was an accident.

Dad was really sorry that Rabbit had got hurt. He seemed to feel as responsible as Jody did.

After the teams had their batting and infield practices, the Gophers took the field.

The Dolphins started well that first inning. With two away, Arnie Smith singled and Johnny Bartho singled. But the Gophers
snuffed out the Dolphins’ chance of scoring by catching Joe Bell’s grounder and throwing him out. Joe was playing short in
place of Rabbit.

The Gophers came to bat and scored a run. In the second inning the Dolphins picked up two.

Nothing serious happened again until the bottom of the third. The Gophers got hot. With one man out, they began to powder
Moonie’s pitches as if it were batting-practice time. To make matters worse, Jody
threw twice to third, in an effort to nab a runner, and both times the ball hit the ground far in front of third baseman Duane
West. Duane and Moonie yelled their heads off at him. Jody could even hear Dad shouting from the bleachers.

“Come on, Jody! Throw the ball
up!”

But all the yelling in the world would not have done any good. Nobody knew that but Jody.

When, finally, the inning ended, the Gophers had put across four runs. Moonie came in shaking his head. He had his lips clamped
together, and his eyes didn’t lift once to the players around him. You could tell that he was taking most of the blame.

Moonie hated errors or bad plays, no matter who made them. Jody wished Moonie wouldn’t be like that. Baseball wasn’t much
fun with a guy who acted that way on the team, no matter if he did pitch a good game most of the time.

It was Moonie himself who started things off with a bang in the top of the fourth. He socked a triple against the left-field
fence, and then scored on Duane’s single. Frank York flied out. Arnie put life back into the team by knocking out a double.
Left fielder Johnny Bartho, who was Moonie’s best pal, singled. Joe Bell, after hitting four fouls, finally banged out a single,
too.

Hunk Peters, the tall right-hander for the Gophers, must have become tired throwing all those pitches. He walked Birdie Davis
on four straight balls. You would think that the coach would send Hunk to the showers, but he didn’t

Then Jody grounded out, and Roddie struck out, and the big inning was over. Score: Dolphins 6; Gophers 5.

The Gophers didn’t lose heart. With two outs, they began to hit again. Moonie looked as if the world were going to collapse
on his shoulders. He yelled at Jody for not throwing the ball high enough to second, when a runner stole. He yelled at Joe
Bell for throwing wild to home. He kicked the rubber when the batters knocked out base hits.

And then Coach Fisher climbed out of the dugout, called “Time!” and walked out to the mound. Jody stood behind the plate,
waiting.

The coach put an arm around Moonie’s shoulders and talked to him. The pitcher looked up at him and then looked away again,
shaking his head unhappily. The coach kept talking to him. Then a smile appeared on Moonie’s face. When the coach walked off
the field, the fans cheered, and even Jody smiled.

Moonie didn’t yell any more. Nor did the Gophers get any more hits. But they had already scored two runs, putting them one
ahead of the Dolphins.

Moonie led off in the fifth inning. He received a big hand as he stepped to the plate. Hunk walked him, and then struck out
Duane.

Mike Brink pinch-hit for Frank, and singled through the pitcher’s box. Moonie went to second. Arnie walked, Johnny Bartho
struck out, and Joe Bell came through with another single that scored Moonie.

It was Joe’s third hit of the game. The crowd gave him a tremendous cheer, because Joe was usually poor at the plate as well
as in the field.

“How do you like that?” said Coach Fisher, grinning broadly. “That boy’s playing like a big leaguer today.”

Birdie flied out, ending the inning.

The score was tied, 7-all. But again the Gophers came through, scoring to break the tie.

Jody led off in the top of the sixth. This was the Dolphins’ last chance.

Jody tapped the tip of the bat against the plate and waited for the pitch he wanted.

“Strike!” The ball just grazed the inside corner.

Another pitch. Jody stepped toward it, lifting his bat.

No. Too high! “Ball!”

Hunk scraped some dirt into the hole in front of the rubber. Then he stepped on the rubber and made his windup.

He breezed the ball in. It sailed toward the plate like a white streak—a little high, and inside. Jody stepped into it again.
Just as it approached the plate, the ball curved in. Jody tried to duck.

Smack!
The ball struck the front right side
of his helmet, glanced off, and Jody fell. With the helmet on, he hardly felt any pain. But stars blinked like lightning bugs
in front of his eyes.

He heard feet pounding on the ground. And then a voice crying, “Oh, no!”

J
ody sat there awhile, his eyes closed.

Someone yanked off his helmet and put a cool hand against his head.

“I’m sorry, Jody! I didn’t mean it!”

Jody recognized Hunk’s voice.

The stars stopped blinking, and Jody opened his eyes. Hunk was kneeling in front of him, his brown eyes wide with worry. Beside
him was Coach Fisher.

“Feel better, Jody?”

“Yes. I feel okay.” The coach helped him to his feet.

“I’ll have a runner for you,” said the coach.