The Little League Team from the Black Lagoon (Black Lagoon Adventures) Read online

  CHAPTER 7

  Going Batty

  Everyone’s pretty quiet on the

  bus home. Penny’s not talking

  to Eric since he struck her out

  five times. Derek isn’t talking to

  Penny because she took up

  all of recess at bat. Randy has

  started figuring out our stats,

  and I’m dreaming about when I’ll

  be at bat. . . .

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  The pitcher looks to the right,

  he looks to the left, he lifts his

  leg, he raises his arms, and he

  hurls the ball right over the plate.

  Strike one.

  I shake the bat on my shoulder.

  I stare straight at him. He looks

  to the right . . . he looks to the left.

  He raises his leg, lifts his arms,

  and hurls the ball right at me.

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  I close my eyes and swing with

  all my might. Strike two.

  Hey! Whose daydream is

  this anyway? It’s not strike

  two —it’s a hit!

  I feel the bat connect, there’s a

  loud crack, and the ball is sailing

  up into the air. It’s going, it’s

  going, it’s gone. The fans go wild

  as I circle the bases.

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  “You’re home,” says Freddy,

  nudging me.

  “I know,” I answer, keeping my

  eyes closed.

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  CHAPTER 8

  Hits, Runs, and

  Terrors

  That evening, Grabber and I

  watch a baseball video together

  just to get in the mood. It’s the life

  of Babe Ruth. He was the greatest

  hitter ever. He was so famous.

  They even named a candy bar

  after him. Maybe they’ll name

  gumdrops after me—“Hubie

  Beans.”

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  That night I have another

  dream. It’s the final game of the

  World Series. It’s the bottom of

  the 9

  th

  inning and the game is

  tied. There are two outs and I

  step into the batter’s box.

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  But it’s a real box. A big box

  and someone closes the lid. It’s

  dark.

  Outside, I hear “Strike one,

  strike two, strike three . . . you’re

  out!” I hear all the fans booing. I

  never even saw the ball!

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  I wake up and my head’s under

  my pillow.

  It’s Saturday. Time for tryouts!

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  CHAPTER 9

  Diamonds Are a

  Boy’s Best Friend

  I get to the ballpark early. No

  one’s there. I stand at home

  plate and look out over the

  field. Soon this diamond will

  sparkle with the brilliance of my

  skills: batting, catching, running,

  jumping, skipping, hopping, and

  throwing. I’m going to be the

  most valuable player on the

  team. I’m going to be a star.

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  Eric and his dad arrive. Mr.

  Porter has a bag full of bats and

  balls. “Go out in the field, boys,

  and I’ll hit you a few.” Eric and I

  head out. Boy, it’s a long walk.

  “Here it comes!” shouts Mr.

  Porter. He hits a high fly ball.

  “It’s mine!” shouts Eric and he

  catches it.

  “Good, son,” says Mr. Porter.

  “Here comes another one ...”

  Crack!

  It’s another high fly. “It’s mine,”

  shouts Eric, and he runs over and

  catches it.

  “Good catch,” shouts Mr.

  Porter and he hits another one.

  This is the highest one yet. It

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  looks like its dropping out of a

  cloud.

  “It’s yours,” I shout to Eric. He

  runs over, leaps up, and catches

  it. He winks at me and throws the

  ball back to his dad.

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  “This one’s for you, Hubie,”

  says Mr. Porter.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I don’t mind

  sharing.”

  “Here it comes, Hubie,” says

  Mr. Porter, taking a tremendous

  swing that lifts the ball high into

  the sky.

  I don’t even see it for a while.

  Then I do. It’s a tiny missile

  and it’s heading straight for me.

  If I miss this one I’ll never get

  another chance. I won’t make the

  team. I may not even make the

  bench.

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  It’s dropping fast. I won’t get

  a cap or a team T-shirt. I’ll be the

  batboy or the water boy.

  Should I run in? Should I run

  back? Should I run away?

  It’s headed straight for me and

  it’s bringing the whole weight of

  the sky with it. I hold up Grabber

  and close my eyes . . . Whomp!

  It lands right in my pocket. I open

  my eyes, and there’s a white ball

  resting in my glove like an egg in

  a nest. I take a deep breath, wink

  at Eric, and throw the ball back

  to his dad.

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  CHAPTER 10

  A Rose by Any

  Other Name

  “Well, what will we call our

  team this year?” asks Eric’s dad.

  “The Red Sox!” declares

  Randy.

  “The White Sox!” insists

  Doris.

  “The Smelly Sox!” laughs Eric.

  “The Pantyhose,” says Penny.

  “The Firehose,” jokes Eric.

  “Hose on first?” asks Freddy.

  “I don’t know,” says Penny.

  “No, he’s on third,” laughs

  Derek.

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  Anyway . . . an hour later

  we have our name. We’re The

  Bobcats, since the coach’s name

  is Bob, and we’re his cool cats.

  I’m glad his name isn’t Jim,

  or our team name might be The

  Jim Socks.

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  CHAPTER 11

  The Rest Is History

  Well, I make the team. I get the

  cap and the T-shirt. Since I’m not

  so tall, Mr. Porter tells me to play

  shortstop. You get to stand in

  the infield and it’s not so lonely.

  Eric plays second base and

  Derek plays third. We can

  talk and tell jokes throughout

  the whole game.

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  The ball doesn’t come high

  in the air. It’s usually rolling on

  the ground. That’s a lot easier.

  There’s always someone behind

  you if you miss it. I just have to

  scoop it up and throw it to first

  base.

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  Mr. Porter says I have a good

  arm. I even made a double play

  during the last game. I flipped

  the ball to Eric and he threw it

  to first. He has a good arm, too.

  I’m proud of all of our arms. I’m

  proud of our whole team.

  We’re doing bette
r this year.

  Our record is 3-and-3 so far.

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  I even got a hit and made it to

  first base. Mom told me never to

  be dishonest, but I stole second

  anyway. Then Derek hit a double,

  and I ran home and scored.

  Everyone cheered. Mom

  clapped. And Tailspin wagged

  his tail.

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  What a wonderful feeling it

  was crossing home plate, and

  seeing the numbers change on

  the scoreboard.

  I felt important, like I really

  added something to my team.

  Like I’m real.

  Like I count.

  Like I’m a baseball player.

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