“Where are we going to look? And who else can catch? Nobody. You can’t just drop us like that.”

  Don looked belligerent. “Oh, no? Just wait and see if I can’t.”

  On Wednesday Mike Hagin himself almost gave the game to the Rascals. The score was 3 to 1, Checkmates’ favor. It was the fifth inning and there were no outs. The Rascals had a man on first. The batter blasted a grounder to second and Mike flubbed it. He scooted after the ball, whipped it to Dick covering second, and the ball sailed far over Dick’s head. Bunker chased after the ball beyond the foul line, pegged to Art Colt covering third, and his throw was wild too. Before all the throwing was done a man had scored and a runner was on third base.

  A single then tied up the score. Two pop flies and a strikeout stopped the Rascals’ wild merry-go-round.

  The Checkmates picked up two runs in the sixth, and that was it. Checkmates’ game, 5 to 3.

  The Longhorns fell too. The game was better than the five-to-one score looked, though. The Longhorns got their loner in the first inning, while the Checkmates pushed one across each inning. Once it was on a squeeze play. Another was a long fly Yuri blasted to center field. He was really hitting the ball. And once on an error by the shortstop. Two runs were batted in by doubles.

  It was the first game in which Yuri had not made an error.

  “I guess I am improving,” he said to Mike, smiling proudly. Then he added, “Mike, we have already played five games and lost only one. Maybe we will be champs.”

  “Don’t count your chickens too soon,” said Mike.

  Yuri frowned. “Chickens?” Then his face lit up. “Oh! I know what you mean!”

  Lefty Mason was on the mound again for the Maple Leafs when they played the Checkmates. Don was there. Maybe he’s pulling our leg, thought Mike. He’s just making those threats and has no intention to quit at all. A big blowhard, that’s all he is. Yuri came to bat in the second inning. There were two outs and Bunker was on first base after hitting a single.

  Lefty’s first pitch cut the outside corner of the plate for a strike. His second was inside — so far inside that Yuri had to jump back.

  Lefty’s next pitch was almost in the same place. Yuri jumped back again and stared hard at the Leaf pitcher.

  Mike, coaching at third, looked on curiously. Was Lefty having trouble with his control or did he really mean to dust Yuri off?

  “Strike two!” The ball grooved the heart of the plate. Mike saw Yuri step back slightly.

  That darn Lefty Mason, he thought. What’s he trying to do?

  The pitch. Yuri stepped, back again and took a weak swing at the ball. He missed it by a foot.

  “Strike three!”

  The Checkmates ran out, the Leafs ran in. Mike glared at Lefty but said nothing. Wait’ll I get up, he thought.

  The Leafs blasted Art Colt’s pitches for two runs. The Checkmates came to bat, Dave Alberti leading off and Don Waner on deck.

  Lefty’s control was fine as he pitched to Dave. None of his throws were so close that Dave had to jump out of the way. Dave singled to left.

  Don corked a Texas leaguer over short. Art Colt flied out and Dick walked, loading the bases.

  Mike came up. He eyed Lefty squarely as he held his bat off his shoulder, moving it just slightly back and forth. Lefty stretched and delivered. The pitch came in. It was high. Ball one.

  The next pitch blazed in close. So close that Mike dropped to the ground.

  “Ball two!” shouted the ump.

  The next pitch grazed the inside corner for a strike.

  Mike stepped out of the box, brushed off his pants and looked sharply at Lefty Mason. Okay, Lefty. You’ll either walk me or groove the next pitch. And if you groove it I’ll murder it.

  He stepped back into the box and waited for Lefty’s next pitch.

  10

  LEFTY MASON stretched high, came down with the ball and held it a second as he glanced at Dave on third base. Dave was leading off a couple of feet.

  Lefty pitched.

  The ball blazed in like a comet. Mike could see it was going to be a perfect strike. He lean into it and swung.

  Crack! The sound was like a shot as bat met ball. And like a shot the ball zoomed out to deep left. It seemed to rise higher the farther it went. Mike dropped his bat and sped to first. Something about the feel of the bat when it had struck the ball told him the hit was real solid.

  Cy Williams, coaching at first, was smiling broadly and windmilling Mike on. Then Mike saw the ball drop far behind the left field fence. He slowed his pace and trotted around the bases, the roar of the crowd ringing in his ears.

  He had done it. He had murdered Lefty’s pitch just as he had promised he would. It was the best feeling he’d had in months.

  Hank went down swinging, but Tom Milligan doubled to put the Checkmates into scoring position again. Bunker singled him in. That was all the Checkmates were able to do that inning. It was plenty. Checkmates 5, Maple Leafs 2.

  Two innings later, in the top of the fourth, tragedy almost struck. Mike missed a pop fly, a spinner. No sooner had it hit the pocket of his glove than it spun out. The next batter drove Art’s first pitch for a triple, scoring a run. The third batter blasted a hot grounder to deep short and the runner on third made a beeline for home.

  Dick Wallace fired the ball to Don. It was a good throw. But the runner was almost in and Don moved his mitt to tag him before he had the ball. The ball glanced off the side of his mitt and skittered to the backstop screen. The runner slid safely across the plate.

  The Checkmates picked up a run in the bottom of the fourth and another in the fifth, putting them ahead of the Leafs by three runs.

  In the top of the sixth a Leaf blasted a hard grounder through short for a neat single. The next Leaf hit a high-bouncing grounder to first.

  “Get two, Yuri!” shouted Mike.

  Yuri waited for the ball, then reached for the hop. The ball struck the heel of his glove and bounded off his chest to the ground. He picked it up quickly and raced the hitter to first base. The hitter beat him by two steps.

  Mike’s lips tightened. Both he and Yuri were really having a great day in the field, all right.

  Well, with men on first and second there was still a chance for a double play.

  A solid hit to right center! The ball rolled to the fence. Center fielder Tom Milligan got it and pegged it in. Two runs scored and the hitter ran to third standing up.

  Checkmates 7, Maple Leafs 6.

  Art struck out the next batter. The next blasted a line drive over third and another run scored — 7 to 7. Art caught a pop fly for the second out. Then a grounder tore down the first-base line and Yuri bolted after it. The ball struck the tip of his glove and bounded out to right field for three bases, putting the Leafs ahead, 8 to 7.

  Mike looked at Dick, at Bunker, then at Art. It was plain as day that they were completely disgusted. Yuri should’ve caught that grounder. The only thing that keeps Yuri in the game is his bat, thought Mike. And, boy, Yuri, you’d better make sure it does something for you the next time you’re up.

  A fly to short ended the half inning.

  Yuri was quiet as he walked in from first base. He dipped himself up a drink from the water pail, then paused beside Mike as Mike looked for his favorite bat.

  “I should have caught that one,” he said regretfully. “It looked easy.”

  “Get a hit and make up for it,” said Mike quietly. He went up to bat and let a strike and a ball whizz by him. Then he knocked a dribbling grounder to the pitcher for an easy out.

  Hank Rush flied out to center and Tom Milligan popped out to the catcher, for a fast half inning to end the game.

  “We can’t win ’em all,” said Mike as he helped Coach Terko load up the equipment bag.

  “No. But one error should’ve been an easy out,” grumbled Don Waner. “We should’ve won the game.”

  “Okay, let’s drop it,” said the coach. “There’s another game coming up. Let’s think about that one.”

  Yuri and Mike exchanged few words between them as they headed home. The wide sidewalk flanked a park sparsely dotted with trees and bushes.

  “Do you think Don is serious about quitting?” asked Yuri worriedly. “I heard he said that. And it is because of me.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Mike. “He’s just a bag of wind. Don’t listen to everything he says.”

  I hope I’m right, thought Mike. I hope that’s all Don is — a bag of wind.

  11

  THE CHECKMATES had an easy time winning over the Jetstars on the 23rd. Mike knocked his second home run of the season, with two on, and Yuri blasted one out of the lot too. He had missed a high pop fly but nobody said anything about it.

  On July 29 the Checkmates had first raps against the Rascals. They drew a goose egg. The Rascals came to bat and their lead-off man cocked a looping fly just over Dick Wallace’s head for a Texas league single.

  The second Rascal batter drove a pitch directly back to Gary. The hard-driven ball glanced off Gary’s glove toward first base. Yuri fielded it and tagged out the runner two steps from the bag.

  The third Rascal popped a fly just outside of the first-base foul line and Mike waited breathless as Yuri got under it. The ball dropped from the sky — and Yuri caught it. A load left Mike’s chest, and Checkmate fans gave Yuri a rollicking cheer.

  The fourth batter cracked a double and drove in a run. The fifth walked. Another double drove in two more runs. Three to nothing.

  A solid blast to deep center! The Rascals were really pounding the ball. Tom Milligan went back … back … and bagged it.

  Three outs.

  Tom received the loudest cheer ever as he trotted in from the outfield, the ball clutched in his hand.

  “Nice catch, Tom,” said Mike. Then he sat down beside Yuri. “Nice catch, Yuri.”

  “Thanks,” said Yuri. “All the time that ball was falling, though, I was worried.”

  Mike laughed. “So was I!”

  The second inning went by scoreless.

  Dick Wallace drew a walk to lead off the top of the third inning. Mike grounded out to short and Hank fanned. Then Tom doubled, scoring Dick, and Bunker struck out. Checkmates 1, Rascals 3.

  The Rascals’ lead-off man drove a hot grounder directly at Yuri. Yuri reached down and the ball struck the heel of his glove. He recovered it too late to put out the hitter.

  “Yuri!” shouted Don. “Why don’t you sit in the dugout? You may do better there!”

  “Don!” yelled the coach from the bench. “Keep your mouth shut!”

  A pop fly and a quick double play ended the Rascals’ chance of scoring.

  Yuri was first man up in the top of the fourth. He looked nervous. Mike was sure that the last error and Don’s sarcastic remark were responsible. Just ignore him, Yuri. You should know him well by now. He’s just a bag of wind.

  Fergie — Hayes Ferguson — hurled in the first pitch and Yuri backed away. “Strike!” boomed the ump.

  He’s still worried about getting hit by a pitched ball, thought Mike. Lefty Mason was to blame for that.

  “Strike two!”

  Mike felt his heart pound as if he were at the plate himself. He wished he were. He wouldn’t feel as tight or anxious.

  “He’s some pal,” said a voice at his elbow. A familiar voice. “You sure can pick ’em, man.”

  Mike sucked in his breath and let it out slowly. Then he looked at Don and smiled. “Don,” he said, “did anyone ever tell you how nice a guy you are?”

  Don grinned. “Very funny,” he said.

  Fergie stretched and delivered. The crowd was silent as the ball shot like a bullet toward the plate. Yuri drew back his bat, brought it around as he leaned into the pitch. Then boom! A long, high, sky-reaching blast! The crowd started to shout almost the same instant that Yuri’s bat connected with the ball. The shout seemed to grow louder as the ball climbed higher. And then the ball, like a white pill, dropped far beyond the fence, while the crowd kept cheering and cheering. Yuri loped around the bases, a broad smile on his face as he crossed the plate and came in to the dugout.

  One by one the guys shook his hand. Even Bunker, Art and Don did, except that they didn’t seem as enthusiastic about it.

  Mike’s grip of Yuri’s hand was probably the hardest. “Beautiful hit, Yuri!” he said happily. “You can really swing a mean bat!”

  Cy Williams, batting for Dave Alberti, singled. Then Cy stole second, and scored on Don’s single over second base.

  The Rascals failed to do a thing during their raps, and neither team scored in the fifth. In the top of the sixth Don doubled to left center, for his third hit of the game, and Gary drove him in. He was real quiet. Any other guy would be tickled pink to have gotten three hits. If Don was, he didn’t show it. Mike knew what the trouble was. Don was jealous. Even three hits in a game couldn’t match the spirit the crowd displayed when Yuri had blasted that long home run.

  Bob Layton, pinch-hitting for Dick Wallace, grounded out. Mike pounded out a single, scoring Gary, the second and last run that half inning.

  “Hold ’em, Checkmates!” yelled the fans.

  The Checkmates did, and won, 5 to 3.

  That evening came the news. It was a phone call from Coach Terko.

  “Don Waner handed in his uniform, Mike,” he said. “We’re out of a catcher.”

  Mike could hardly believe his ears. “I — I was beginning to think he was just talking,” he said. “I didn’t think he’d do it.”

  “I didn’t, either. I think he talked himself into it, Mike. He said it so often that he figured if he didn’t quit now the guys would say he just talks and never backs up his word.”

  “That could be, Coach.”

  “Don’s a good kid and everybody likes him. But he has a strong sense of pride. I tried to make him change his mind, and even bawled him out for blaming Yuri for losing our games. You guys play baseball because you enjoy the game. I coach it because I love it. But you learn to get along with one another and that winning or losing is just a part of it.”

  “Maybe Don hasn’t learned that yet, Coach,” said Mike.

  “It’s just his stubborn pride, Mike. Well, now comes the tough part. I’d like to ask a favor, Mike.”

  “Sure, Coach.”

  “I’d like you to take Don’s place. Until he comes back — if he comes back.”

  Mike gulped. “Sure, Coach. I — I’ll do the best I can.”

  12

  MIKE HAGIN crouched behind the plate during batting practice to get acquainted with his new position. The mask felt like a basket over his head. And peering through it — well, he had a good idea now how a caged canary must feel.

  The chest protector and shin guards seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. And the huge mitt — How did Don ever do it? How could any catcher ever do it?

  But that was only half of it. The other half was his being scared whenever a batter swung at the ball. Mike was all right as long as the batter didn’t swing. When the batter swung he just couldn’t catch and hold on to the ball. He didn’t know what made him scared. Maybe he was thinking more about the batter’s swinging than he did about catching the ball. He wasn’t sure. Anyway, he dropped almost every pitched ball whenever the batter swung.

  But, if he didn’t catch, who would? No one. Some of the guys were even more scared to catch than he was.

  The big day arrived. The day he caught his first game. It was against the Crickets and Mike thought he had never been so nervous in his life.

  He crouched behind the plate, peering through the cage of his mask and feeling the heavy weight of the chest protector and shin guards. “Come on, Art!” he shouted, pounding his fist into the pocket of his huge mitt. “Right in here, boy!”

  Art’s first pitch was head-high. Mike couldn’t get the mitt up fast enough and the ball sailed over his head to the backstop screen. He chased after it, wondering how in the world catchers could run so fast with all that weight on. He picked up the ball, pegged it to Art and trotted back to his position.

  Somehow the Checkmates got the batter out, and then the next two. The Crickets picked up two runs in the second and one in the third. We’re heading for a real bombing, thought Mike unhappily. His glove hand was hurting, too. The small flat sponge Coach Terko had given him to cushion the blows didn’t help much.

  In the bottom of the fourth his hopes went up as Yuri came to the plate with the bases loaded. One of Yuri’s long clouts could put the Checkmates ahead like the snap of a finger. With each pitch the crowd seemed to hold its breath, as if it too were thinking the same thing.

  “Strike one!”

  “Strike two!”

  “Ball!”

  And then … whiff! Yuri struck out!

  The Cricket fans went almost crazy.

  In the fifth Mike himself started a rally and the Checkmates picked up two runs. In the top of the sixth the Crickets picked up two more, putting them in the lead, 5 to 2. Then, during the Checkmates’ last raps, Yuri stepped to the plate. Again the bases were loaded. And again the crowd hushed as the first pitch breezed in.

  Ball! For a moment a hum rose, sounding like a thousand bees. Then it hushed again as the next pitch came in. Crack!

  “There it goes!” yelled Mike.

  And it did. A grand-slammer! The Checkmates won, 6 to 5.

  This time it was the Checkmate fans who shouted like crazy.

  Things were different on Thursday. Mike missed a couple of pop flies that were hit directly over his head. The other Checkmates just didn’t seem to have the spirit to play ball and the Longhorns smeared them, 8 to 3.

  “Wish Don would come back,” said Bunker. “We need him.” He grinned at Mike. “I don’t mean to be rude, Mike. And it’s not because we lost. We just —well, we just miss him. That’s all.”

  Mike smiled faintly. “I know. I do, too.”

  The Longhorns lost to the Crickets on Wednesday, but beat the Checkmates again on Thursday and the Rascals on Tuesday, giving them seven wins and five losses. Up till the nineteenth, the Checkmates’ record was seven wins and four losses. If they lost to the Rascals they would be tied with the Longhorns and would have to meet in a playoff game.