Stranger in Right Field
Read Stranger in Right Field Online
Authors: Matt Christopher,Bert Dodson
To Paul Michael
Text copyright © 1997 by Catherine M. Christopher
Illustrations copyright © 1997 by Bert Dodson
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY ELECTRONIC OR MECHANICAL MEANS, INCLUDING
INFORMATION STORAGE AND RETRIEVAL SYSTEMS, WITHOUT PERMISSION IN WRITING FROM THE PUBLISHER, EXCEPT BY A REVIEWER WHO MAY
QUOTE BRIEF PASSAGES IN A REVIEW
.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental
and not intended by the author.
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First eBook Edition: December 2009
ISBN: 978-0-316-09493-1
Contents
The action-packed Peach Street Mudders series by Matt Christopher:
“Okay!” Coach Parker’s voice snapped. “Let’s have some quiet!”
The commanding voice struck like a thunderbolt. Silence fell in the Peach Street Mudders’ dugout.
“There’s someone here I’d like you to meet. Boys, this is Roberti Frantelli.”
“Hi!” all fourteen Mudders called out.
The tall, dark-haired boy smiled.
“Thank you. I am happy to be here.” He spoke with a strong accent.
Italian? Mexican? Greek?
Alfie Maples wondered. He was curious about different
countries and cultures. Alfie also wondered why Roberti was dressed in a Peach Street Mudders uniform, as if he were going
to play in the game against the Stockade Bulls. He waited eagerly for Coach Parker to explain more about the stranger.
But the coach just said, “Roberti is going to warm up with you outfielders. So let’s get out there and show him how the game
is played!”
An outfielder? I hope it’s not right field!
Alfie thought. Ever since he’d joined the team, Alfie had been the starting right fielder. But he knew he wasn’t the best
player on the team. He sometimes missed easy catches, and he didn’t do too well at the plate, either. Still, he hustled during
practices and always tried to learn from his mistakes.
Alfie adjusted his glasses and jogged out onto the field. As he passed the bleachers, he spotted a strange-looking man. Unlike
most of the fans who were dressed in shorts,
T-shirts, and sunglasses, this man wore a business suit. When the rest of the fans rose to their feet to cheer for the Mudders,
he stayed seated.
Even without his glasses, Alfie would have picked the man out of the crowd. The man raised a hand and waved at someone on
the field. Alfie turned in time to see Roberti wave back.
“Hey, Alfie, look alive!”
The shout from José Mendez made Alfie snap back to attention. He waved his glove in the air to signal he was ready to catch.
“Roberti, back up so we can throw to you, too,” José called. “We’ll go around from me to you to Alfie to Barry. Then we’ll
mix it up. Okay, guys?”
The ball started around slowly. At first, all the boys, including Roberti, made clean catches. Then, at a signal from José,
the exercise became more difficult. The ball was thrown high or at the ground on purpose,
forcing the catcher to jump or run in low to retrieve it. Since they weren’t throwing in a circle any more, each player had
to be ready to catch at all times.
Alfie watched Roberti carefully. To his surprise, the newcomer couldn’t seem to get his glove on the ball. By the time Coach
Parker called them in for the start of the game, Roberti Frantelli was red-faced from having chased the ball over and over—and
the other outfielders were giving him puzzled glances.
Why did the coach let
him
on the team?
the looks seemed to ask.
Alfie felt a little sorry for Roberti. But he also felt relieved. After all, he’d worked hard to earn his position as starting
right fielder. Seeing Roberti play made him feel he would be able to keep that position, no problem.
The game against the Stockade Bulls started a few minutes later.
“We’re up first,” Coach Parker told the Mudders. “Regular batting order and starting positions as usual, fellas. And I want
to hear some chatter from this dugout!”
As the boys gave a cheer, Coach Parker called Alfie and Roberti over to him. He said, “Alfie, as a favor to me, I’d like you
to keep an eye on Roberti. Make sure he understands everything that’s going on out there. Kind of coach him through the game.
Okay?”
Alfie was surprised. It was clear that Roberti could barely catch a ball in a simple practice drill. But now the coach seemed
to be saying that Roberti didn’t even understand about baseball! If the coach thought that, why had he put Roberti on the
team in the first place?
Alfie didn’t get it, but he nodded to let the coach know he’d help out. At least he might have a chance to ask Roberti a few
questions, like where he was from, if he was visiting or moving to town—and who the man in the business suit was.
Coach Parker clapped his hands a few times and trotted out to the third-base coaching position. Alfie sat down next to Roberti
as Barry McGee, the “Hit-Away Kid,” picked up a bat and headed toward the plate.
“Okay, Barry! Okay, kid!” Alfie yelled. Even though his mind was on the boy beside him, he wanted the Mudders to know that
he was rooting for them one hundred percent.
“A long one, Barry!” Nicky Chong called out from the bench.
Barry pulled down on his helmet as he stepped into the batting box. He let a ball and a strike go by him. Then he belted the
next pitch. A high fly to center!
Adzie Healy of the Bulls made an easy catch of it, and Barry was out.
“Nice try, Barry,” Alfie said as the outfielder returned to the dugout.
“Yes, nice try,” Roberti echoed. Barry glanced at both boys, shrugged, then slumped down on the bench.
First baseman Turtleneck Jones was up next. He took two balls and two strikes, then fanned. Trent Farrell, the Bulls’ lanky
left-handed pitcher, seemed to have his fastball working well.
But then José walked, and T.V. Adams doubled. A single from Nicky Chong knocked them both in for two runs scored.
As Alfie stepped to the plate, he saw Nicky
watching him with a hopeful look that seemed to say, “Drive me home!”
Coach Parker clapped his hands from the third-base coaching box. “Keep it going, Alfie!” he called. “Make it count!”
Alfie took a deep breath and readied himself for the first pitch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roberti lean forward,
his elbows on his knees. Alfie could feel the new boy staring at him.
Suddenly Alfie was nervous. A trickle of sweat ran down his back. One thought ran through his head:
How am I supposed to help Roberti get better at baseball when I have trouble playing the game myself sometimes?
“Steee-rike!” boomed the ump as Trent’s first pitch blazed by Alfie.
“At least swing for those, Alfie,” Bus Mercer muttered from the on-deck circle. “Don’t just stand there.”
Alfie didn’t. But he missed the next pitch by a mile. Strike two.
“Come on, Alfie!” Bus said.
The pitcher fired in another.
“Ball!” boomed the umpire.
Alfie dug his cleats into the dirt.
This next one won’t get by me!
he thought fiercely.
But it did. Trent’s pitch was waist high and
outside. Alfie cut at it anyway and swished. Strike three.
“Rats! Made the third out
again!
” Alfie heard Bus say. Alfie felt his face turn red. Even though the other boys often let their teammates know when they were
disappointed, Alfie tried not to make comments like that himself. They never made him feel any better, and he knew that they
could make someone else feel bad.
Roberti was sitting back with his cap pulled low over his eyes. Beneath the brim, his face was as expressionless as a fresh
apple.
