The All-Star Joker (2 page)

Big D looked like a big dud. Pitch after pitch went by. In between them, Big D kept scratching his stomach and his back and rubbing his feet. Whenever he hit a ball, it dribbled into the outfield.

Big D’s turn ended quickly. He only scored one home run, the lowest score all night.

Kate winced. “That was awful! Big D should have hit a lot of home runs!”

Mike nudged Andy with his elbow. “Well, at least your father’s not in last place anymore,” he said.

Andy cracked a smile. “Hey, you’re right!” he said.

“Come on. Let’s go see what happened,” Kate said.

While the final batter stepped up to the plate, Mike, Kate, and Andy ran to the American League’s dugout. Andy jogged over to his dad,
who was standing next to Sparky, the team’s manager.

“What’s going on?” Andy asked.

Josh shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe Big D’s allergic to all that prairie grass we have around here.”

Big D stood at the top of the dugout steps, scratching his arms like crazy. “Ah, looks like he’s just allergic to hitting home runs on his night off,” muttered Sparky. “I say you either get the job done or you don’t. Big D didn’t tonight. I sure hope he does better during the game tomorrow.”

Still, Big D smiled when he spotted Mike and Kate.

“Mike and Kate! Good to see you,” Big D wheezed, in between scratches. “I don’t need help finding my bat tonight. But I’d love if you could figure out why I’m so itchy.”

“Maybe it’s your uniform,” Mike said. “Once I was allergic to laundry detergent. It left a bunch of red marks on my arm.”

“Nah, we brought the uniforms with us,” Big D panted. “Arrrrgh! This is killing me! Mike, can you grab my water bottle from my locker?”

“Sure,” Mike replied. He scampered down the steps into the clubhouse behind the dugout. While he was gone, Big D leaned into the edge of the dugout and rubbed his back against it. Then he whipped off his hat and used both hands to scratch his head. Finally, Mike returned with the water bottle. Big D took three huge gulps and gasped for air.

“I’m still itchy, but that feels better,” he said, wiping his chin. “Thanks!” He went back to scratching furiously.

Mike made a funny face at Kate. It looked
as if he had something important to say.

“Uh, Big D?” he said. “I found something in the locker room that you might want to see.”

Big D stopped scratching his legs. He looked at Mike.

Mike pulled out a small plastic bottle from his back pocket. He held it up.

Across the front, it read:

ITCHING POWDER

Rocketing to the Top

Before Big D could respond, Sparky grabbed the bottle from Mike’s hand.

“Itching powder!” Sparky read the words aloud. He flipped the bottle open and tipped it upside down. “Empty. Well, I’ll be …”

Sparky squinted down at Mike. Wisps of white wiry hair poked out from under the edge of his baseball cap. “Where’d you get this, son?”

“I found it in the trash can in the locker
room,” Mike said. “Right next to the door.”

“Hmph,” Sparky snorted. He snapped around and stamped to the edge of the dugout where Josh stood. Sparky fixed his eyes on Josh. He held up the empty bottle.

“Robinson, I was warned about your practical jokes,” Sparky said. “Don’t pull any more. Have all the fun you want with your regular team. I’m here to win the all-star game for the American League, and I’m going to do it with you or without you.”

Josh took a step back. “Whoa! Coach, I—I didn’t have anything to do with that!” he sputtered. “Everyone knows that I like practical jokes. But I don’t know anything about that itching powder.”

Sparky scowled and pointed a finger at Josh. “I won’t tolerate any jokes on my team,” he said. He slipped the bottle into his pocket
and tramped down the stairs into the clubhouse. Still scratching his hip, Big D headed for the showers to wash off the itching powder.

Andy pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand. “That’s not fair,” he said to Mike and Kate. “My dad didn’t do it!”

“Nice job getting on the good side of our manager, Josh,” said one of the other players.

“That’s Robert ‘Rocket’ Richards, from the Toronto Blue Jays,” Andy whispered to Kate and Mike. “He and my dad are the two catchers for the American League team. But the Rocket
is
a better hitter.”

“Hey, Josh. Since you’re such an expert on itching powder, what do sheep use to scratch an itch?” the Rocket taunted Andy’s dad.

Josh grimaced and shook his head. “I don’t know, Rocket. What?”

The Rocket smiled. “A
lamb
post!” he said. “Get it? Instead of a lamppost. A lamb post!”

Josh rolled his eyes. “Oh brother! I don’t need this,” he said. “I’m going to check my equipment.” He headed down the stairs to the clubhouse.

“Aww, you’re just sore because you only
hit three home runs in round one, and I hit eleven!” the Rocket gloated. “Looks like I’ll be moving on to the finals and you won’t!”

Just then, a man with a jutting chin, slicked-back black hair, and a fancy white suit brushed by Mike. He strode up to the Rocket and whispered something in his ear.

Kate tugged Mike’s sleeve. She headed down the baseline. “Hey, guys, they’re starting the final round,” Kate said. “It’s the Rocket versus Troy Young from the Colorado Rockies.” She plopped down on the grass near third base. Andy and Mike sat down, too, stretching out their legs and resting back on their hands.

Troy Young went first. Mike, Kate, and Andy watched as he hit five more home runs. Young’s total for the three rounds was twenty-six. That meant the Rocket needed six home runs to win.

As he walked back to the dugout, Young took off his hat and waved to the cheering fans. At the same time, the Rocket approached the plate. He stared out at the fountains in left field. He took a few practice swings and waited for the pitcher. The Rocket was all business.

Kate plucked a short piece of grass and stuck it in her mouth. “I don’t know,” she said. “There’s something about him that I don’t like.”

The Rocket’s first four hits were pop-ups. Then pitch after pitch, he waited patiently. Finally, he unloaded and hit four home runs in a row! The crowd went wild! He let two more pitches fly by and homered the next two.

The Rocket had won the home run derby! And he still had six more outs to go! A chant of “Rock-et, Rock-et, Rock-et” started. He smiled for a moment, waved his right hand
for quiet, and turned back to the plate. The Rocket finished after five more home runs. He ended up with a total of thirty-two home runs for the night.

The Rocket swaggered off the field. Cameras clicked as he took a big swig of PowerPunch. He grabbed a towel and mopped his face. A few minutes later, an official presented him with a big silver trophy of two bats.

The official led the Rocket to the press conference for all the home run derby hitters. Two long tables had been set up along the first-base line. Reporters stood nearby, waiting to ask players questions.

Josh took a seat near the end. A player from the Milwaukee Brewers pulled out the chair next to him and sat down.

CRACK!

The chair splintered into pieces, and the
Brewers player fell flat on his butt! Everyone roared with laughter. As he stood up and dusted himself off, two stadium workers quickly piled the pieces of the broken chair against the infield wall and brought over a replacement.

“Oh, I guess Josh must have helped set up these chairs!” the Rocket said loud enough for everyone to hear.

From under his hat, Sparky glared at Andy’s dad.

Josh tried to avoid Sparky’s eyes. He looked at Andy, Kate, and Mike and shook his head.

“Or maybe it was too much of that great Kansas City barbecue,” said Big D from the far end of the tables. “I know I had a lot of it last night! Now does anyone have questions for us?”

The reporters dove in with their questions.

Mike turned to Kate. She was frowning. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kate said. “Something’s fishy here. I want to check out that chair.”

Mike, Kate, and Andy sneaked over to the
infield wall. They poked through the remains of the chair. Andy picked up a leg.

“Guys! Look at this,” he whispered. He pointed to the end of the leg. “It’s a smooth cut here, and then there’s a big, jagged break!”

“Someone used a saw to slice through it!” Mike said. “But they didn’t cut it completely. That way the chair would break when someone sat in it. It was sabotage!”

Andy threw the chair leg to the ground. “There’s no way that my father did this,” he said. “He likes to pull pranks on people. But he wouldn’t do it at the home run derby or the all-star game. Someone’s trying to frame my dad!”

The Tables Have Ears

The next morning, Mike and Kate pulled open the doors to the hotel restaurant at eight o’clock.

Mike rolled a baseball from hand to hand. “You really think this will work?” he asked.

Kate nodded. “Yup. As long as we don’t get caught. How else are we going to find out what’s going on?”

Mike and Kate were staying at the same hotel in Kansas City as the all-star players.
The night before with Andy, they had come up with a plan to spy on the players during breakfast.