The Year Mom Won the Pennant (7 page)

“What I hate to see worst of all is the Tornadoes’ winning the pennant again this year,” snorted Scotty as he sat down.

“Don’t give up hope,” advised Mom confidently. “Even if we lose today, we can still win the pennant by winning tomorrow. Pick
up a bat and hustle to the plate, Scotty. You’re first hitter.”

“Start it off, Scotty,” said Nick. “I’d like to bat this inning.”

Scotty waited out the pitches, then smashed a single through second base. Mike glanced over his shoulder at Mom, then strode
to the plate. Mom must have given him the bunt sign because he laid the first pitch down the third-base line for a perfect
bunt. The third baseman was caught flat-footed, but the pitcher fielded the ball and threw Mike out.

Nick stared at Mom. “Aren’t we too far
behind to bunt?” he asked. She couldn’t have used her noodle on that play. Teams usually did not bunt when they were three
runs behind and there was only one more inning to go.

Mom tapped his knee gently. “Do we have to do the expected all the time?” she said. “Mike hasn’t been hitting. He’s popped
up and struck out his first two times up. I was hoping he could have fooled the Tornadoes enough to get on, too.”

Gale, sitting at Nick’s other side, shoved his knee against Nick’s. “What did I tell you? She knows what she’s doing. Just
leave her alone.”

Mom laughed. “Why thanks, Gale!” she said.

Wayne, his shoulders wet from perspiration, stepped to the plate. He had homered the first time up and had socked a sacrifice
fly the second time. He took a called strike, a ball, another ball, then swung. A grass-cutting grounder through the mound
that just missed Lefty’s legs! The hit went for two bases, scoring Scotty.

Russ smashed a single over the second baseman’s head, and the Thunderball fans stood up and cheered as Wayne scored.

“One more run and it’s tied up! Keep the rally going!” shouted Mom.

Cyclone, who had flied out in the fourth inning, flied out again. He seemed so disappointed he shook his head all the way
back to the dugout.

“Cheer up, Cyclone,” said Nick. “You’ll have another chance next inning.”

Johnny walked and the head of the lineup was up again — Bill Dakes. He belted a hit over the third-base sack. Russ scored
from second. The coach halted Johnny at third.
Again the fans went wild. The game was tied up!

“A hit, Gale!” they shouted. “A hit!”

But Gale Matson flied out.

“Just hold them,” pleaded Mom. “Just
hold
them!”

The Thunderballs held the Tornadoes. One out. Two outs. And then the Tornadoes began to hit. A double. A single. And then
a triple — before the Thunderballs could get them out.

“The game isn’t over yet,” said Mom. “Nick, get on.”

Nick led off. Two runs behind, he thought. They needed three to win. Possible, but not probable.

The pitch. He swung. A long, long drive! The ball was reaching for the sky in left field! The crowd was screaming. And then
the ball disappeared . . . over the fence!

“The old powerhouse, himself,” Gale said with a smile as Nick came running in. “Too bad there weren’t men on.”

Scotty flied out to left. Mike doubled, Wayne walked. But that was it. Russ fanned and Cyclone flied out again. The Tornadoes
took the game 9 to 8.

Now the Tornadoes had a chance at the pennant. They had seven wins and five losses. The Thunderballs had seven wins and four
losses with one more game to play. Nick realized that if they lost to the Stars on Friday, the Thunderballs and Tornadoes
would be tied and would tangle again in a playoff.

A
real good game, Coach,” Coach Stevens said to Mom, with that broad, amused smile of his. Nick watched them shake hands.

“At least we gave the fans their money’s worth, didn’t we?” Mom said. Her eyes were sparkling but Nick could tell she wasn’t
as happy as she looked. It would have been great to have knocked off the Tornadoes.

“You still have tomorrow’s game to play,” said Coach Stevens. “Naturally, I can’t wish you luck in it.”

“Naturally,” Mom echoed. “For if we win, we also win the pennant. And you wouldn’t
want
me
— someone who’s coaching for the first time in her life — to do
that,
would you?”

Coach Stevens chuckled. “Well, I’m looking forward to that playoff.”

Dad came up beside them. “All I can say, Coach Vassey, is that you win that game tomorrow, or else.”

Mom beamed up at him. “And all I can say, Mr. Vassey, is let’s wait and see.”

It seemed that all the parents of both teams were attending the Stars-Thunderballs game the next day, Friday, plus most of
the people of Flat Rock. Gale Matson’s parents were there. So were Wayne Snow’s. Nick looked twice at the Snows to see if
he was right. Yes, they were the Snows, all right. Mr. and Mrs. Snow and Ron. They were sitting halfway up the stands behind
the third-base dugout, the dugout which today belonged to the Thunderballs.

The Stars, batting first, could do nothing against Johnny Linn that first inning. A walk, a flyout, and then two singles in
succession gave the Thunderballs a one-run lead. Nick, sitting it out until Mom put him in, watched Stinky Morrison carefully.
Stinky, the Stars’ left-handed pitcher, had always worried Nick. He wished the Thunderballs would pile up a heap of runs before
he went in.

The Stars picked up two in the top of the second as a result of two errors, one by Jim at short and another by first baseman
Russ Gray.

“I hope they get
that
out of their system right now,” Mom said.

The Thunderballs scored a zero at their turn at bat. So did the Stars in the top of the third. Then, in the bottom of the
third, the Thunderballs cut loose. Jerry Wong started it with a double. Jim and Tom both got out. But Mike tagged a high pitch
for two bases,
scoring Jerry. And Wayne blasted a long triple to the left-field fence, scoring Mike.

Nick, coaching at third, looked behind him and saw the Snows clapping and cheering like teenagers. Wayne, at third, looked
as sober-faced as if hitting triples were something he did all the time. Russ knocked him in, Pat flied out, and that was
the end of the third inning.

The Stars came back as strong as ever. Nick, playing shortstop now, muffed a hot grounder that bounded off at a crazy angle
and permitted the hitter to get two bases. Then a home run got the Stars’ fans yelling like a bunch of hyenas.

“Hey, Nick!” Jabber Kane shouted from the third-base coaching box. “Who’s going to coach the Thunderballs next year? Your
little sister?”

“This game isn’t over yet, Jabber!” Nick shouted back.

They scored another run before the Thunderballs could stop them. Stars 5-Thunderballs 4.

Johnny led off with a double in the bottom of the fourth. Cyclone, pinch-hitting for Bill, rapped out a single. Pat, now coaching
at third, windmilled Johnny home. Then Jerry hit into a double play and Nick struck out.

In the fifth the Stars roared again. This time Gale fumbled a fly ball in left field, letting in a run. It drew a disappointed
moan from the crowd, but a sadder one from Gale. Nick could hear him from short. The Stars scored twice more to advance into
the lead 8 to 5.

“Hey, you Thunderballs!” cried a voice from the stands. “Why don’t you throw in your gloves and quit now before you get slaughtered?”

Nick and several other guys looked up.
Sure enough, it was Bugs Wheeler and five or six other players from the Tornadoes. Not far from them sat Coach Burt Stevens,
grinning triumphantly. They clearly had come with hopes of seeing the Stars whip the Thunderballs. Then the Tornadoes and
Thunderballs would be tied for the pennant.

It looked as if their hopes were going to come true. Stinky held the Thunderballs to a double in the bottom of the fifth,
and no runs.

The Stars started off well again as they came up for the sixth and final inning. Cyclone let a grounder zip through his legs.
That was it, though. The Stars couldn’t score.

“One, two, three, Stinky!” yelled Bugs Wheeler.

“Dog!” snorted Nick.

Pat, leading off, flied out. Johnny walked.
Cyclone flied out. One more out and the ball game would be over.

Then Jerry singled. They were still alive! “Keep it going, Nick!” Mom shouted.

“Save me a rap, Nick!” Gale Matson pleaded.

Nick looked nervously at Stinky. For some unknown reason he was never able to hit Stinky’s pitches. He was sure that if he
swung away he’d strike out, just as he had done the last time. And that would be it. The ball game would be over, and Bugs
Wheeler, Coach Stevens, and the rest of the Tornadoes would never let him live it down. They’d be gloating at the playoff
game.

Suddenly he remembered what Mom had said in another game:
Do we have to do the expected all the time?
He looked toward first and then third. The Stars were playing deep. He could try a bunt. It just might work. What could he
lose?

The pitch came in. He shifted his feet and bunted the ball down the third-base line, catching the Stars completely off their
guard! The bunt was perfect!

“Nice going, Nick!” shouted Mom.

Three on and Gale came up. The fans yelled. Gale’s parents sat still, waiting patiently.

“There you are, Gale!” yelled Nick. “I saved you a rap! Now, clonk it!”

Stinky stretched and pitched. Gale swung.
Crack!
A solid smash! A high long ball to deep left! It kept going. . . going . . . Gone over the fence! A home run!

It was over. The Thunderballs — and Mom — had won the pennant.

Gale beamed proudly as he gripped Nick’s hand. “Thanks for saving me that rap!”

The Snows came forward and shook hands
with Mom. “Wayne thinks an awful lot of you, Mrs. Vassey,” said Mrs. Snow. “He’s always talking about you and your family.
I wonder if you all would come over some day soon. My husband and I would love to have you. Will you?”

Mom’s face shone radiantly. “We’ll be glad to, Mrs. Snow.”

Another figure joined the small group. Burt Stevens. A smile was on his face, but it wasn’t as broad as it had been. He stretched
out his hand to shake Mom’s.

“Congratulations, Coach,” he said. “You won it fair and square.”

Mom’s eyes sparkled. “Thank you, Mr. Stevens,” she said, and then added mischievously, “Sorry you don’t get a chance for a
playoff.”

“And I won the bet,” Dad said. “The Stevenses are taking the Vasseys out for a
Chinese dinner. That’s the bet we had agreed on in Mr. Wong’s restaurant. Tomorrow okay, Coach Stevens?”

“Tomorrow’s fine,” said Mr. Stevens, smiling.

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