Zero's Slider (4 page)

At the top of the fourth inning, Chess subbed in for Rudy. Zero returned to the dugout and watched the rest of the game. But
his heart wasn’t really in it. Even when the Mudders came out on top in the end, the victory felt hollow to him.

After all, he thought, I didn’t contribute anything to this game. And it could be my fault that we forfeit the next three.

Zero started to head for home when Chess caught up to him. The two walked together in silence. Then Chess turned to him and
asked, “Why didn’t you tell Coach Parker
about your uncle when he asked for suggestions today? You did talk to your uncle about subbing, didn’t you?”

Zero shook his head miserably. “I — I don’t think he’d be interested, Chess,” he blurted. “He didn’t even stay for all of
the game today! And when I take this stupid bandage off, he’ll probably lose interest in me altogether — because I bet I won’t
be able to pitch the slider anymore!”

Chess looked at him, surprised at his outburst.

Then he said simply, “But Zero, you’ll never know unless you ask him. And you’ll never know about the slider until you take
the bandage off.”

There was a note from his mother on the kitchen table, telling him not to eat too much because she was cooking a big celebration
dinner.

Celebration for what? Zero wondered,
mystified. I sure don’t have anything to celebrate.

Uncle Pete was nowhere to be found, so Zero couldn’t ask him about it. He wandered into his bedroom, picked up a book, and
started leafing through the pages.

Suddenly he put the book down and looked at his finger.

The bandage was dirty and a little loose. Zero picked at it and thought about what Chess had said.

He knew Chess was right. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was afraid to ask his Uncle Pete — and afraid to take
off the bandage.

I finally have a pitch that will knock the socks off any batter, but I won’t have a chance to use it in a game because of
this stupid bandage. Or is it because of this stupid bandage that I have the pitch in the first place?

Zero picked at the wrapping a bit more. Then, with one sudden movement, he tore the whole thing off.

His finger was still a little bruised. It hurt a bit when he flexed it. But the more he moved it, the better it felt.

He walked into the hallway and picked up the phone. He dialed Chess’s number.

When Chess got on the line, Zero asked him to come over. Chess sounded surprised, but agreed. “Bring your glove,” said Zero,
just before he hung up.

As good as his word, Chess showed up ten minutes later, mitt in hand. He looked quizzically at Zero.

“What’s up?” he asked. Zero held up his finger.

Chess whistled. “So that’s what this is all about! Okay, let’s see if that bandage really was the reason for your slider.”

Zero nodded. He picked up his glove and
ball, and the two headed out to the backyard. They warmed up for a few minutes. Then Zero took a deep breath.

“I’m ready when you are, Chess,” he said.

Chess got into position. Zero stared at the target Chess held up. He concentrated on making his throw smooth and reminded
himself to snap his wrist at the end. Then he reared back — and threw.

The pitch was good. But it wasn’t a slider.

Zero’s heart sank.

He’d lost it. And he was sure he’d lost his only hope of getting Uncle Pete to coach.

“That was only one pitch, Zero!” Chess called encouragingly. “Try again!”

Zero caught the ball and held it in his right hand for moment. All his fingers were curled around it.

Maybe if I try lifting my forefinger off the ball, the way it was when the bandage was on it, he thought hopefully.

But his next pitch was the same as the first. A good solid throw, but not a slider.

Again and again he tried. He pitched slow, easy ones. He pitched with all his might. He lifted his finger off the ball. He
clamped all five around it.

But the slider wasn’t working.

Finally, he dropped the ball at his side. “I’ve lost it,” he said quietly.

“I don’t know about that,” boomed a voice from behind him. “Looks to me like you’ve
found
something you’d lost.”

Zero whirled around. Uncle Pete was standing at the edge of the driveway, grinning. His mother was right beside him.

“Seems to me you’ve got your pitching arm back, Zero,” Uncle Pete continued. “How many strikes would you say he just threw,
Chess?”

“So many I lost count,” Chess called back. He stood up and jogged to where Zero was standing. “I didn’t have to leap for any
of those, Zero!”

“But I didn’t pitch one slider!” Zero argued.

“I’d take a lot of solid pitches in a row over one fancy pitch that sometimes works, any day!” replied Uncle Pete. Chess and
Mrs. Ford nodded their agreement.

Zero was puzzled. Hadn’t they all been thrilled by his “killer pitch”? Why was it that they looked just as happy now that
he’d lost it?

Uncle Pete threw an arm around Zero’s shoulder. “It’s like this, pal. You’ve got to have both feet on the ground before you
can reach for the stars. Your fastball and slow ball are your ground, and that slider is the stars. Chances are you’ll find
the slider again someday. But until then, you’ve got some good pitches that make you a valuable member of the Mudders.” Uncle
Pete looked over at Mrs. Ford and smiled. “It’s kind of like the job I just got. It’s not for the big radio station I’d been
reaching for. But it’s a good, solid job with dedicated people who will appreciate my skills as an announcer. And who knows?
I could find myself working on one of those big radio shows soon enough!”

A light suddenly clicked on in Zero’s head. “The celebration dinner! It’s for you, right?”

“That’s right. I start work in about two weeks,” Uncle Pete replied.

Zero’s heart started to pound. Two weeks? he thought. I wonder if —

“Hey!” said Mrs. Ford, interrupting Zero’s thoughts. “I’m starving. Let’s get that table set for dinner! Chess, would you
like to stay for dinner? It’s lasagna, and I’ve got a special dessert, too.”

Chess patted his stomach and grinned. “I’m sure I’ll be able to fit that in!”

Later that evening, after the dinner plates had been cleared away, Mrs. Ford brought out dessert. It was a chocolate layer
cake with the words “Congrats on your new job!” written on top. Zero, Chess, and Mrs. Ford clapped as Uncle Pete cut the cake.

When everyone had a piece, Uncle Pete turned to Zero. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay for the rest of your game today, Zero,” he
said. “But I was expecting a call about this job, so
I had to get back home. How’d it turn out against the Bunkers?”

“We won,” said Zero. Zero could feel Chess watching him carefully. He knew it was now or never.

“Uncle Pete, Coach Parker is going on vacation next week, and we don’t have a replacement coach, and we’ll have to forfeit
three games if we don’t find one, and so could you do it, please?” Zero blurted suddenly.

Chess sighed with relief. Uncle Pete and Mrs. Ford looked at Zero in astonishment. Then Uncle Pete started to laugh.

“It sounds like you’ve had that question bottled up inside you for some time now, pal. Must have taken this chocolate cake
to pop out the cork!” he said, chuckling. “Well, it seems you’re in luck. I’ve got a few weeks before this new job starts,
and I can’t think of anything I’d like to do more than spend time on a ball field. Why don’t you give me
Coach Parker’s phone number so I can talk it over with him?”

Zero thought he would burst with happiness.

“You’re the greatest, Uncle Pete!”

Friday afternoon was clear and bright — a perfect day for the game between the Peach Street Mudders and the Joy Street Devils.

Zero and Uncle Pete arrived at the ball field a little bit early so that Uncle Pete could talk to Coach Parker. Zero pointed
him toward the dugout, then looked for Chess. Sure enough, the catcher was there already, going through his equipment. Zero
ran over to him.

“Uncle Pete called Coach Parker last night, but Coach Parker wasn’t home,” Zero informed Chess worriedly. “So he still has
to talk to Coach about taking over. Do you think it will be okay?”

Chess looked over Zero’s shoulder and grinned. “From what I can see, everything looks great!”

Zero turned around in time to see Coach Parker shake Uncle Pete’s hand. Uncle Pete flashed Zero and Chess the “thumbs up”
sign. The boys gave a cry of “Yes!” and slapped palms in the air.

When the rest of the Mudders had gathered at the field, Coach Parker called them into the dugout. He rattled off the lineup,
with Zero as pitcher and Chess in the catcher’s slot. Then he motioned Uncle Pete forward.

“Boys,” he said. “I have some great news. Zero’s Uncle Pete has agreed to step into my cleats, so it’ll be full steam ahead
for the Mudders while I’m on vacation!”

The Mudders gave a loud cheer. Several boys slapped Zero on the back. Coach Parker called for quiet.

“I’ve decided to hand the clipboard over to your new coach for today’s game so you boys can get used him,” he said. “And so
he can see what he’s gotten himself into!” he added with a grin.