Catcher with a Glass Arm (3 page)

But Jody put the helmet back on and trotted to first. “I’ll be all right, Coach,” he said. “I can run.”

“Are you sure?” Coach Fisher looked at him anxiously.

Jody grinned. “I’m sure,” he said.

Then he saw that the manager of the Gophers was removing Hunk Peters from the game and was putting in a left-hander. The southpaw
warmed up for a while; then the game resumed.

The Dolphins’ fans yelled loud and hard for Roddie Nelson to get a hit. They needed a run to tie the score, two runs to put
them ahead.

A ball was called, and then a strike. Now Roddie got ready for the pitch he wanted. The ball breezed in, chest-high. Roddie
swung.
Crack!
The ball arced out to short
right field. The Gophers’ second baseman and right fielder both raced after it. Jody stopped about a third of the way to second,
waiting to see if the ball would be caught.

“I got it!” yelled the second baseman, running hard.

He had his gloved hand stretched out to receive the ball. He caught it and whirled to throw to first. Jody sped back in time.

The crowd cheered the Gophers’ second baseman. Even the Dolphins’ fans applauded him. It was a great catch.

Moonie came to the plate. Once again the fans greeted him with applause. He took a called strike, then belted a sizzling grounder
to second. The second baseman bobbled the ball, and both Jody and Moonie were safe.

Lead-off man Duane West came up next. The two runs the Dolphins needed to get back into the lead were on first and second.

The Gophers’ left-hander stepped to the mound, checked the runners, then threw. He had speed and pretty good control. He threw
four pitches—one ball, and the rest strikes. Duane went down swinging.

Two outs.

Mike Brink took a called strike, then fouled two pitches in a row. The southpaw threw his next pitches low and inside. Mike
waited; then the count was three and two.

“This is it, Mike!” Coach Fisher yelled. “Make it be in there!”

The ball breezed in, knee-high. Mike swung.
Crack!
A hot grounder to short. The shortstop caught the hop, tossed the ball to third, and Jody was out.

The game was over. The Gophers were the winners: 8-7.

Rabbit was back in the game Thursday. The Dolphins were playing the Tigers again, the last game of the first series.

Rabbit had healed well. The welt had disappeared from his head. And he was doing fine at short, too. By the third inning he
had handled five grounders without an error and had assisted with five put-outs.

As for Jody, he wasn’t doing
anything
right. Two men had already stolen second on him. One had even stolen third. On that play Jody had almost thrown the man out,
but
almost
wasn’t good enough.

However, it was at the plate that something strange had really happened to Jody.

The first time up, he had swung at the first pitch and popped out. Nobody knew how he really felt then. He was glad he didn’t
have to spend a longer time at the plate.

Now he was up again. Johnny Bartho was
on third, and Joe Bell on second. The Tigers were leading, 3-2.

Jim Gregg, the Tigers’ tall, wiry right-hander, hurled in the first pitch. It came in belt-high. Jody watched it, and all
at once he thought it was streaking at him. He got scared and jumped back from the plate.

“Strike!” yelled the umpire.

The next pitch was slightly higher and just as close. Again Jody jumped back.

“Strike two!” yelled the umpire.

The Tigers’ players started to laugh and make fun of him. His teammates shouted at him to swing. “Come on, Jody! You can hit
him!” yelled Coach Fisher from his third-base coaching box.

Jody stepped out of the batter’s box a moment, rubbed dust on his hands, then stepped back in again. Sweat stood out on his
forehead and rolled in tiny rivers down his face.

“Stick in there, Jody, boy!” a voice said from the grandstand. “Don’t be afraid of them!”

Jody remembered that voice. It belonged to the man who had been so friendly toward him during those first few games.

In came the pitch. It was knee-high. It was going to groove the middle of the plate. Jody could see that—
yet his right foot stepped back away from the plate as he swung. He missed the ball by a foot!

That made the third out. Jody saw Johnny Bartho kick the third-base sack as he turned and headed for left field.

Jody tossed his bat aside and began putting on his shin guards. His hands shook. He had trouble fastening the buckles. Coach
Fisher came over and helped him.

“What happened, Jody?” he asked quietly. “You looked scared up there.”

“I know,” said Jody.

“No sense being scared. Just stay in there. Forget what happened the other day. Make up your mind you’re going to hit that
ball. You’ve hit it before—you’ll hit it again.”

In the. sixth Jody was up again. The score was 4-2 in the Tigers’ favor. Birdie Davis was on first.

Jody waited out the pitcher. He got three balls on him, then a strike.
I wish he walks me, I wish he walks me,
Jody was telling himself.

“Strike two!” yelled the umpire.

Three and two. This would be it. He had to watch this next pitch closely.

The ball came in. It looked good, almost even with the letters on his jersey. Then all at once it seemed to come at his head.
He ducked back, almost losing his balance.

“Yeaaa!” yelled the umpire. “You’re out!”

Jody clamped his lips lightly for a moment, then walked away.

When the game was over, the score was the same, 4-2. As the teams walked off the field, Jody kept his eyes lowered so that
he wouldn’t have to look at anyone.

Suddenly he heard someone say, “Jody! Wait! I’d like to see you a minute!”

J
ody turned and saw the tall, thin man who had become one of his best fans.

“Hi, Jody,” the man greeted. “See that you have more troubles now, haven’t you?”

“Guess so,” said Jody, and began rubbing the toe of his right shoe into the grass.

“Two problems,” said the man. “That’s pretty rough going. Not throwing well and being afraid of a pitched ball are two of
the worst things a ballplayer could wish for himself.”

“I know,” said Jody. “Guess I’ll never be any different.”

The man chuckled. “That’s where you’re wrong. You see, you do have a strong arm. You’re just afraid to throw hard—you think
you’ll throw the ball
too
far. That’s wrong thinking.

“Your new problem is worse. You can’t be afraid of a pitched ball, because then you’ll
never
hit. But you have hit, before—and very well, too. That bang you got on the head the other day scared you. You must forget
that. That’s why ballplayers wear helmets nowadays. When I played ball, we didn’t even think of helmets. So—don’t be afraid
anymore. How about it?”

Jody smiled. “Okay.”

The man walked away.

“Who is that?” Jody asked Roddie, who had stopped to wait for him. “He comes to most of our games.”

“Jim somebody,” said Roddie. “He’s a
friend of Coach Fisher’s. What was he saying to you?”

Jody told him as they went on their way home.

As days went by so did ball games. Jody showed improvement in his ball throwing, but not in his hitting. In two games he had
poked out only one hit, and that was a blooper over second. Coach Fisher moved him from seventh to last place in the batting
order. In the last two games the coach took him out in the fourth inning and had Rabbit Foote catch.

One day during practice Jim drove up alongside the ballpark and came onto the field. He sat in the stands and watched the
Dolphins practice.

Jody caught his eye and smiled. Jim smiled back and waved.

At bat, Jody remembered what Jim had advised him about not being afraid of a pitched ball, because the helmet would protect
him; that’s why he wore it.

He recalled the bang on the head from a pitched ball. He forgot if it had hurt or not. Guess it wasn’t the pain he was afraid
of, anyway. He was just afraid of being hit, that’s all. He
tried
not to be. But when he stood at the plate he just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help it now. He stepped “into the bucket”
each time the ball came in instead of stepping straight forward. He was hitting the ball, but not at all as he used to before
he had been hit on the head.

“Hey, Jack!” Jim yelled suddenly from the stands. “How about letting me throw in a few?”

“Sure, Jim,” said the coach. “Come on.”

“Stay there, Jody!” cried Jim. “Let me throw to you.”

Jim came in and put on the glove Coach Fisher handed him. He warmed up first, then began throwing to Jody.

With each pitch Jody’s right foot moved back. He was pulling himself back, too.

“Stay in there, Jody,” said Jim. “I won’t hit you.”

Almost all the pitches were over the plate. Jim certainly had marvelous control. Jody tried hard to step straight ahead when
he swung. Each time he felt a strong urge inside him to pull away from the pitch. It was as if something were
making
him do that.

He hit a couple of grounders, missed a few pitches, and lined one over first. Then he bunted one down the third-base line.

Jim grinned at him. “You’re coming around fine, Jody!” he said.

After practice was over, Jim talked to Coach Fisher a few moments. Jody saw the coach nod.

“Jody, Frank, Duane, and Birdie”—Coach Fisher snapped off the names—“stick around! Jim wants to work with you awhile!”

The other boys left—all except Johnny Bartho and Moonie Myers, who sat on the bench to watch.

Jody wondered what Jim intended to do. In a moment he found out. Jim ordered each player to his regular position, then had
them throw the ball to each other. That was all they did. They just threw. He had Jody do the most throwing, making him throw
hard to first, second, and third.

Jody’s first throws were weak. Gradually he improved. Sometimes his throws were over the baseman’s head. But he was
doing much better than he had done in any game.

“This gets me,” Jody heard Moonie grumble from the bench. “What’s he spending all his time on Sinclair for? He’s just wasting
his time for nothing!”

“That’s just what I was thinking,” said Johnny. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

E
arly Friday morning Jody and Midnight left the house and walked down the street. They were going to the lake about two miles
away, to sit on Flatiron Rock and watch the ducks for a while, and then come back.

Suddenly a voice yelled out: “Jody! Wait a minute!”

Jody turned. Coming around the corner of the street he had just passed was Johnny Bartho. Johnny had started toward him at
a run.

Jody waited, a little bit puzzled. Johnny was seldom without Moonie.

Johnny pulled up alongside him, scuffing his shoes so that he made Midnight jump with fright. He was carrying a flashlight.

“Hi,” he said. “Where are you going?”

“To Flatiron Rock,” replied Jody. “Midnight and I go there once in a while.”

“You
and Midnight?”
Johnny looked down at the cat. “I’ve heard of guys being good friends with dogs, but never with cats.”

“You get them trained, they’re as smart as dogs,” said Jody.

He started walking again, and Midnight began trotting beside him. If Johnny wanted to come along, okay. But he wasn’t going
to ask him. He could still remember Johnny and Moonie talking about him at the games and practices, and none of it was any
good.

“I asked Moonie if he’d want to go to Indian Cave today, but he can’t,” Johnny said. “You ever been there?”

“Of course,” said Jody. “Many times.” He
shrugged. “Well—three or four times, I guess.”

“Ever been
inside?”

“Well, no,” said Jody. “Never inside. Never
far
inside, I mean.” He looked curiously at Johnny. “Why? Is that where you’re going? Is that why you have that flashlight?”

Johnny smiled, “Yes. You want to go? It;’s not far from here, and we can go inside and explore. I found two arrowheads in
there once. Moonie found one, too. Of course, we had to go in a long ways. You’re not scared, are you?”

“No,” Jody said. “I’ll go with you. What’s there to be scared of?”

They walked a quarter of a mile down the road to a wooden bridge. They stepped off the road and slid down the steep bank to
the edge of a creek.

The boys walked up alongside the creek, Midnight following close behind. They
reached falls that were about ten feet high and two feet wide. They climbed the rocky ledge that was like steps beside it.
They reached the top. Here the creek was wide but the water was very shallow.

The cave was a big hole in the hillside to the left.

“Here we are!” said Johnny. “Watch that crack in the floor. There’s water in it.”

They rested for a while on a large rock. Then Johnny turned on his flashlight and started to walk deeper into the cave. A
chill crawled along Jody’s spine as he followed at Johnny’s heels.