Zero's Slider (3 page)

“Hey, man! Did you see that?” Chess cried.

Uncle Pete ran out to Zero’s side. Zero looked from one to the other, confused.

“See what?” he asked.

“That pitch!” Uncle Pete said in amazement. “You just threw a slider, Zero! I’ve never seen a kid throw one of those before!
If you can do that again, you’ll be unstoppable on the mound!”

Zero couldn’t believe his ears. A slider? He knew what one was — a fast ball that curved sharply and suddenly in front of
the batter — and he knew that it was almost impossible to hit. But had he really thrown one?

And could he throw one again? If he could, this could be his big break!

Uncle Pete and Chess wanted him to try again right away.

“Before you forget how you did it!” Chess joked.

Zero looked at the ball in his hand. His bandaged finger stuck straight out.

Maybe I threw that slider because of this bandage, Zero thought. I’ll bet that’s it! I’ve
never had to hold the ball this way before.

Zero tried to forget that Uncle Pete and Chess were watching him. But when he threw the ball, he knew it wasn’t going right.

Chess had to scramble to make the catch. Zero flushed a deep red.

Then Uncle Pete called out, “Shake it off, Zero. Not all your pitches can be winners. Just relax and aim for Chess’s glove.”

Zero took a big breath. He concentrated on the target Chess held up. He threw.

Chess and Uncle Pete both whooped.

“That’s it! You did it again!” Chess yelled.

“Did what again?” a voice called from the driveway. The three ball players had been so intent on Zero’s throw that they hadn’t
heard Mrs. Ford drive up.

“My nephew just happens to have a killer pitch,” Uncle Pete said proudly. He made a sliding gesture with his hand and grinned.

“Uncle Pete’s been helping me a lot, Mom,” Zero piped in.

Mrs. Ford grinned. “It sounds like we have cause for a celebration. Not only did I get off work early, but my son has a ‘killer
pitch’!”

Fifteen minutes later, the four of them were sitting around the kitchen table slurping down ice-cold lemonade. They talked
excitedly about Zero’s new pitch.

Uncle Pete really seems interested in helping me pitch better, Zero thought happily. I wonder —

Uncle Pete slammed his lemonade glass on the table and looked at the clock.

“Yikes!” he said, leaping to his feet. “I’m going to be late for a job interview if I don’t hurry up. I’ve got to stop spending
so much time out on the field with you guys!” He put his glass in the sink and ran upstairs.

Zero watched him go with a heavy heart.

Just when I thought he was getting interested in me and the Mudders, he said to himself.

Chess interrupted his thoughts. “Your
uncle’s great, Zero. What did he say when you asked him to sub in for Coach Parker?”

Zero looked quickly at his mother, wondering if she’d heard Chess’s question. But she was busy tidying up the kitchen.

“I — I haven’t had a chance to ask him yet,” Zero mumbled in reply.

“Well, he’d be great at it. Your pitching really improved while he was helping you out there. And I’ll bet he’d coach just
to see you use that pitch!” Chess said.

Zero looked up. Chess was right! Uncle Pete was interested in the slider. Maybe that was the ticket to get him to take over
for Coach Parker.

Then Chess added, “But how come you’ve never thrown that slider during a game? We sure could have used it against the Bearcats.”

“I’ve never been able to throw it before,” Zero admitted. He held up his bandaged finger. “I think I can now because of this.”

Chess blew out his cheeks. “But if you can
only throw a slider with that on your finger, I guess you can’t use it during the game. You know how Coach Parker doesn’t
like to put players with injuries in. Remember when Turtleneck was knocked out that time? Coach wouldn’t let him play until
he was one hundred percent better. One look at that big bandage and he’s sure to bench you.”

Zero stared at Chess. He knew Chess was right. He’d have to prove to Coach that he was fine — but in order to do that, he’d
have to take the bandage off his finger.

And he’d never been able to throw a slider without the bandage before. What if he couldn’t do it without it?

Without the slider, his chances of getting Uncle Pete to coach were almost nothing.

And the team was running out of time.

Wednesday afternoon shone bright and sunny. Zero arrived at the baseball field a little early for the Mudders’ game against
the High Street Bunkers. But even so, someone was there before him. Chess was in the dugout organizing his catcher’s gear.

“Hey, Zero!” he called. Zero waved and jogged over to join him.

“Still got that bandage on, I see,” said Chess. “Are you going to tell the coach about the slider?”

That was the question Zero’d thought about all last night. He still didn’t know the answer. Luckily, more of the team showed
up
just then, so he didn’t have to answer Chess.

The stands started to fill with fans for both teams. Coach Parker called the Mudders together.

“Before I give the lineup, I should tell you I still haven’t found a substitute coach. If anyone has any ideas of someone
to ask, I’d sure like to hear them.” Zero avoided the coach’s eyes. Coach sighed, then said, “Okay, we’ve still got a few
days left. For now, here’s the lineup: First base, Turtleneck. Second base, Nicky. Bus, you take shortstop. Third base, T.V.
Outfielders from left to right: Barry, José, and Alphie. Catcher, Rudy Calhoun. Sparrow, you’ll be on the mound. Chess, you
be ready to sub in for Rudy in the fourth inning. And Zero — ” Coach stopped short. He was looking at Zero’s right hand. He
frowned.

“What’s that, Zero?” he asked.

“I banged my finger up yesterday, Coach.
I — I was going to tell you about it, but — ”

“No buts, Zero. You know the rule. But remember, just because you’ll be sitting on the bench doesn’t mean you can’t help your
team out. I expect to hear you cheering for everyone loud and clear!”

“Yes, sir!” said Zero, nodding vigorously. He’d figured that he wasn’t going to start in today’s game, but he was disappointed
he wasn’t going to be playing at all.

But it’s just as well, he thought. This way I can get the slider perfect before I use it in Friday’s game!

Just then he saw a familiar figure in the stands. Uncle Pete gave him a “thumbs up” sign, then made the sliding gesture with
his arm.

Zero was surprised to see him there. He waved back weakly. Uncle Pete had made the time to come to the game. He was expecting
to see Zero pitch the slider!

Zero felt about two feet tall when the Mudders took to the field. Then a voice called his name.

“Hey, Zero!” Zero looked up to see Chess standing in front of him. “Coach told me you could warm me up later on if you want.
As long as you take it easy on that finger of yours.”

Zero nodded. Suddenly a thought struck him. If I can get the slider going while I’m warming Chess up, Uncle Pete is sure to
notice! I bet he’ll come over to give me a few pointers, too. That’d be the perfect time to ask him about coaching next week!

With that happy thought in mind, Zero settled back to watch the game.

The Peach Street Mudders had first bats, and the fans greeted Barry McGee with a loud cheer as he stepped to the plate.

“Knock the cover off of it, Barry!” Zero yelled.

Barry didn’t, but he lambasted one out to center field. The Bunkers’ center fielder took two steps back and caught it for
the first out.

Alec Frost, the Bunkers’ right-handed pitcher, had trouble getting one over to Turtleneck and walked him. Then José sent a
streaker down to second that resulted in a double play, and the top half of the inning was over.

Sparrow pitched a few warm-ups to Rudy. Zero sneaked a quick look at Uncle Pete. Uncle Pete was watching Sparrow and clapping
with the rest of the fans.

Zero felt a stab of jealousy. Then he shook it off, disgusted with himself.

I should be encouraging Sparrow as much as the fans are — more, since he’s my teammate! he thought. And besides, a good substitute
coach would have to be interested in all the players, not just his nephew.

He took a deep breath and yelled, “C’mon, Sparrow! Strike ’em out!”

The Bunkers’ leadoff batter, Fuzzy McCormick, blasted Sparrow’s first pitch over short. He made it safely to first.

Sparrow struck out the next Bunker, but then the third batter made it to first on an error by T.V. Fuzzy McCormick advanced
to second. Two men on, one out.

A pop-up that Nicky Chong caught was followed by a sizzling grounder that Sparrow fielded. The inning ended with the game
still scoreless.

The next inning was as uneventful. Three Mudders took their turns in the batting box — only to turn around without having
made it on base.

The first three Bunkers batters went down just as easily.

As the Bunkers took to the field at the beginning of the third inning, Chess tapped Zero on the shoulder.

“Want to go throw some to me?” he asked.

Zero nodded, grabbed his glove and a ball,
and followed Chess out to the warm-up pen. Zero looked for Uncle Pete, but a big tree was blocking his view.

He and Chess tossed the ball back and forth for a while, warming up. Then Chess got into position.

“Let’s see that ‘killer pitch’!” Chess called.

Zero hesitated. He wanted to try the slider, but suddenly he wasn’t sure if he could remember how. What if Uncle Pete was
watching — and the slider wasn’t working?

Then again, if it was working …

That decided it. Zero reared back and threw.

It worked! Chess thumped his glove in applause, then threw the ball back to Zero. But his throw was wild, and the ball rolled
under the stands behind Zero.

Zero ran over to retrieve it. He picked up the ball and headed back toward Chess. As he did, he glanced over his shoulder
to look for Uncle Pete.

The place where Uncle Pete had been sitting earlier was empty. Uncle Pete was nowhere to be seen.

Zero’s heart fell. His worst fears had just come true.

Uncle Pete doesn’t have time for our little baseball games, he thought. And he must think I can’t pitch the slider anymore.
And maybe I won’t be able to once the bandage comes off.

Then what?