You're Out!, page 4
The next batter was old for a minor leaguer—not as old as Wayne Zane but older than anyone else on the Cougars.
“Hey, grandpa!” Ernie shouted. “Don’t sprain your hip swinging at these fastballs.”
“This guy just makes it up as he goes,” said Tim, resuming his loud voice.
“Now, Mitch O’Malley—he does his research,” said the catcher. “He comes prepared.”
“Yep, he really knows how to get under your skin.”
The batter beat out an infield hit. He was faster than he looked. The first-base umpire ruled that he was safe. I was surprised Grumps didn’t come out to argue about it, but he didn’t have a bone to pick with the first-base umpire—just with Solomon Johnson.
The next Cougar batter had long hair sticking out from his batting helmet.
“Hey, Rapunzel!” Ernie called out. “Why don’t you let down your hair so the Cougars can climb out of last place?”
“That guy’s working too hard for laughs,” said the Cougars catcher. “Mitch O’Malley—he’s naturally funny. He gets the crowd behind him, and then you’re sunk.”
“Yeah,” another player agreed in a loud voice. “Tim, just wait until you hear Mitch O’Malley. He’s a top-notch comedian.”
“Ah, can it!” Ernie yelled. “They’re ain’t no ‘Marshmallow’ or whatever his name is!”
“Wow,” said the catcher. “That’s something Mitch never would do.”
“Whassat?” asked Tim.
“Let us get to him,” he said loudly. “Kind of a rookie move.”
And for the first time since I’d become a batboy, Ernie couldn’t think of anything to say.
had seen an unassisted triple play and also a perfect game. I had even seen a balloon crash onto the field during a ball game. But the strangest thing I ever saw was what happened in the bottom of the second inning.
Teddy batted first and hit a double. Diego Prado came up next—he was playing left field instead of Danny. Diego got a base hit too, and Teddy came charging home. The Cougar’s left fielder got the ball on a bounce and hurled it to the plate.
It was a really close play. Solomon Johnson checked to make sure the catcher had the ball and then called Teddy out.
Here we go, I thought.
Sure enough, Grumps rushed out to argue. He stormed across the field toward home plate, and I was sure he would throw his hat, kick dirt, and get himself booted out of the game. But halfway there, he stopped. He scratched his head like he was thinking things over.
Teddy passed him on the way to the dugout. Grumps patted him on the back. “Nice try,” he seemed to say. Then he started walking again. He went straight over to Solomon Johnson, so close that he bumped up against Solly’s chest protector. Then Grumps stretched out his arms and hugged the umpire. He said something. The umpire said something back, and they both burst into tears.
“What’s going on?” one of the Cougars asked.
“I don’t know for sure,” I admitted. “But I think they just made up.”
The Porcupines won, 3–0.
I don’t think the Porcupines would have won without Grumps. For example, Grumps saw that the Cougars’ second baseman wasn’t quite in position, so he signaled for Diego to steal second base. It was risky, but it worked. Diego ended up scoring the second run of the game. Grumps made smart decisions later too. He had Ryan Kimball pitch two innings instead of one, like he usually does, and he put Luis Quezada in as a pinch runner.
I really wanted to know what had happened between Grumps and Solly. It sure looked like Grumps was about to blow up again, but he didn’t. Why not? Maybe Dylan could tell me. I couldn’t wait to get back to the Pines’ dugout and ask.
I was halfway across the infield when I heard a blast of music. Or something like music. It was also something unlike music and a lot more like noise!
The Porcupines were marching along, humming “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” They weren’t in sync or in tune. Dylan led the way, on his bike, popping wheelies. In the back were Pokey and Spike on a golf cart, waving at the empty seats.
They stopped.
“Hey, Chad!” said Abby. “That signed photo is the coolest thing ever, and I loved the song. Thanks!”
“You’re welcome,” I told her.
“So, do you want a ride?”
“It’s only like twenty more feet to the locker room.”
“But it’s a ride,” she said. “It’s not a Whipper Whirl, but it’s a ride.”
I laughed. “OK. Thanks.” I climbed aboard, and Pokey took off at high speed. High speed on a golf cart is not fast at all, but it was fun! Pokey did doughnuts and figure eights and zigzags all over the outfield. When he finally pulled up in front of the Porcupines’ dugout, I was dizzy enough to have taken fifteen consecutive rides on the Whipper Whirl.
Before I could even get off the cart, Wally came out, leading Sammy on what looked like a leash. Wayne was behind him, stooped over and holding Sammy’s waist.
What the heck?
“This is Newton II, the second smartest horse in the world,” Wally explained.
I laughed. Sammy and Wayne were a two-man horse act without a costume.
“You laugh now, but wait until you see this horse,” said Wally. “Newton, what’s three plus five?”
The horse tapped out seven.
“What’s two plus two?”
The horse tapped out seven again.
“Well, he’s still smarter than most baseball players,” said Wally.
“What else can he do?” I asked.
“He did my taxes,” said Wally. “Maybe that’s why I got in so much trouble.”
The horse neighed and did a little prance, and only broke in half a couple of times.
“That’s a great horse,” I said. “I think I’ll give him to Dylan.”
“Nah, I don’t think I can teach that horse any tricks,” Dylan replied.
“Well, show’s over,” said Wally. “Thanks to Sammy for playing the front end of the horse, and thanks to Wayne for playing himself.”
The guys all had a big laugh while Wayne tried to think of a comeback.
“We felt bad you had to miss the fair,” Wally told me. “Your friends here came up with all this.” Spike and Dylan each took a little bow. “Besides, your magic kept Grumps in the game.”
“I don’t know about that,” I replied.
Grumps had blown up when he saw the card I gave him, and Solly blew up at the card I gave him. The cards just weren’t working that day.
A moment later, Ryan Kimball ran out of the bull pen, carrying a big bowl.
“Special order from the snack bar!” he announced. “Frozen yogurt sundae with strawberry-rhubarb sauce. And they Frenched up a little toast, just for you.”
There were no marshmallows or chocolate chips, but it looked delicious. It looked amazing. It also looked like way more than I could eat in a million years.
“I’m going to share it,” I said.
“I was hoping you would say that,” said Ryan.
“Me too,” said Wayne. “But there’s probably not enough for everyone, so maybe just you and your favorite horse can split it?”
“Sorry,” I said. “I have another idea.”
wasn’t sure anyone would be in the umpires’ room, but on the third knock a voice shouted to come in.
I opened the door slowly. There was classical music playing in the background.
Solomon Johnson was there, in his street clothes, but his shoes were still off. He was blinking like he’d just woken up.
“Dozed off for a bit,” he said. “Long day. What you got there?”
“Just wanted to bring a snack.” I showed him the sundae.
“You think just because I’m a big guy, all I want is ice cream?”
“It’s kind of healthy,” I told him. “It’s yogurt, not ice cream. And there’s fruit in it.”
“Well, never mind—that looks really good. Let’s dig in.”
We passed it back and forth, taking a few bites each turn.
“Thanks for sharing. This is really delicious.”
“No problem,” I said.
“I’ve been on a diet,” he said. “I’ve been really good too. I had a salad for lunch, and I’ll have another for dinner. I can have a treat once in a while. About once a week.”
I nodded as I took a bite. I would ask Mom for something healthy for dinner too.
“You know that card you gave me?” he said.
“Yeah. Eric Gregg.”
“I shouldn’t have taken it personally. I get a lot of jokes about my weight. I guess Eric got the same grief.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“But Eric Gregg was a great umpire. I really respect him, and I should have taken that card as a compliment.”
“That’s how I meant it,” I told him. “Seriously. I didn’t even know why you got so mad.”
“I made the same mistake everyone else makes. I looked at a heavyset guy, and all I saw was a heavyset guy.”
We ate some more of the sundae, but even the two of us couldn’t finish it.
Most of the players were gone when I got back to the Porcupines’ dugout. Dylan was in his street clothes but was half asleep on the bench by the lockers.
“Whoa,” he murmured. “Good horsey.”
I decided not to interrupt his dreams.
“Just the guy I need to see,” said Grumps.
I felt a bit of dread. Maybe he was going to fire me over that baseball card.
“Wayne and Wally set me straight,” he said. “I know you were just trying to help.”
I felt a huge wave of relief. “Thanks.”
“I get emotional during games,” Grumps admitted. “You know, Billy Martin was a good manager, and he won a lot of games. But what people remember best was that he was a scrapper. They remember the fights, not the wins. I want people to remember me differently.”
“They will,” I said.
“Yeah, right! Did you know the guys call me ‘Grumps’ behind my back?”
“Really?” I pretended I’d never heard it before.
He winked, and I realized he was kidding me. “I thought about that, and I realized that it was time to just tell Solly I was sorry, and move on. Turns out he was just as happy to bury the hatchet. And you know what? I think he umpired fair and square for most of the day.”
“Yeah. I think so too. But … um … sorry about the dunking booth. And your granddaughter’s birthday party.”
“Ah, water dries off, and it’s for a good cause,” said Grumps. “And I got everyone I need for that birthday party.”
“Really? You got a cowboy and a superhero?”
“And a magician and a grade A, top-of-the-line clown,” said Grumps. “I figured Wayne Zane cheated, so I’m holding him to his end of the bet.”
“But who’s playing the other parts?”
“Wayne Zane,” said Grumps. “He’s going to have some uniform changes tomorrow, let me tell you.”
For the first time since I’d known him, Grumps cracked a grin.
About the Author
Kurtis Scaletta’s previous books include Mudville, which Booklist called “a gift from the baseball gods” and named one of their 2009 Top 10 Sports Books for Youth. Kurtis lives in Minneapolis with his wife and son and some cats. He roots for the Minnesota Twins and the Saint Paul Saints. Find out more about him at www.kurtisscaletta.com.
About the Artist
Ethen Beavers has illustrated a bunch of comics and children’s books, including the bestselling NERDS series by Michael Buckley. He lives in California and likes fishing and his wife. He roots for the San Francisco Giants and loves to watch The Natural. You can see more of his drawings online at http://cretineb.deviantart.com.
Kurtis Scaletta, You're Out!
Thank you for reading books on ReadFrom.Net
Share this book with friends
“Hey, grandpa!” Ernie shouted. “Don’t sprain your hip swinging at these fastballs.”
“This guy just makes it up as he goes,” said Tim, resuming his loud voice.
“Now, Mitch O’Malley—he does his research,” said the catcher. “He comes prepared.”
“Yep, he really knows how to get under your skin.”
The batter beat out an infield hit. He was faster than he looked. The first-base umpire ruled that he was safe. I was surprised Grumps didn’t come out to argue about it, but he didn’t have a bone to pick with the first-base umpire—just with Solomon Johnson.
The next Cougar batter had long hair sticking out from his batting helmet.
“Hey, Rapunzel!” Ernie called out. “Why don’t you let down your hair so the Cougars can climb out of last place?”
“That guy’s working too hard for laughs,” said the Cougars catcher. “Mitch O’Malley—he’s naturally funny. He gets the crowd behind him, and then you’re sunk.”
“Yeah,” another player agreed in a loud voice. “Tim, just wait until you hear Mitch O’Malley. He’s a top-notch comedian.”
“Ah, can it!” Ernie yelled. “They’re ain’t no ‘Marshmallow’ or whatever his name is!”
“Wow,” said the catcher. “That’s something Mitch never would do.”
“Whassat?” asked Tim.
“Let us get to him,” he said loudly. “Kind of a rookie move.”
And for the first time since I’d become a batboy, Ernie couldn’t think of anything to say.
had seen an unassisted triple play and also a perfect game. I had even seen a balloon crash onto the field during a ball game. But the strangest thing I ever saw was what happened in the bottom of the second inning.
Teddy batted first and hit a double. Diego Prado came up next—he was playing left field instead of Danny. Diego got a base hit too, and Teddy came charging home. The Cougar’s left fielder got the ball on a bounce and hurled it to the plate.
It was a really close play. Solomon Johnson checked to make sure the catcher had the ball and then called Teddy out.
Here we go, I thought.
Sure enough, Grumps rushed out to argue. He stormed across the field toward home plate, and I was sure he would throw his hat, kick dirt, and get himself booted out of the game. But halfway there, he stopped. He scratched his head like he was thinking things over.
Teddy passed him on the way to the dugout. Grumps patted him on the back. “Nice try,” he seemed to say. Then he started walking again. He went straight over to Solomon Johnson, so close that he bumped up against Solly’s chest protector. Then Grumps stretched out his arms and hugged the umpire. He said something. The umpire said something back, and they both burst into tears.
“What’s going on?” one of the Cougars asked.
“I don’t know for sure,” I admitted. “But I think they just made up.”
The Porcupines won, 3–0.
I don’t think the Porcupines would have won without Grumps. For example, Grumps saw that the Cougars’ second baseman wasn’t quite in position, so he signaled for Diego to steal second base. It was risky, but it worked. Diego ended up scoring the second run of the game. Grumps made smart decisions later too. He had Ryan Kimball pitch two innings instead of one, like he usually does, and he put Luis Quezada in as a pinch runner.
I really wanted to know what had happened between Grumps and Solly. It sure looked like Grumps was about to blow up again, but he didn’t. Why not? Maybe Dylan could tell me. I couldn’t wait to get back to the Pines’ dugout and ask.
I was halfway across the infield when I heard a blast of music. Or something like music. It was also something unlike music and a lot more like noise!
The Porcupines were marching along, humming “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” They weren’t in sync or in tune. Dylan led the way, on his bike, popping wheelies. In the back were Pokey and Spike on a golf cart, waving at the empty seats.
They stopped.
“Hey, Chad!” said Abby. “That signed photo is the coolest thing ever, and I loved the song. Thanks!”
“You’re welcome,” I told her.
“So, do you want a ride?”
“It’s only like twenty more feet to the locker room.”
“But it’s a ride,” she said. “It’s not a Whipper Whirl, but it’s a ride.”
I laughed. “OK. Thanks.” I climbed aboard, and Pokey took off at high speed. High speed on a golf cart is not fast at all, but it was fun! Pokey did doughnuts and figure eights and zigzags all over the outfield. When he finally pulled up in front of the Porcupines’ dugout, I was dizzy enough to have taken fifteen consecutive rides on the Whipper Whirl.
Before I could even get off the cart, Wally came out, leading Sammy on what looked like a leash. Wayne was behind him, stooped over and holding Sammy’s waist.
What the heck?
“This is Newton II, the second smartest horse in the world,” Wally explained.
I laughed. Sammy and Wayne were a two-man horse act without a costume.
“You laugh now, but wait until you see this horse,” said Wally. “Newton, what’s three plus five?”
The horse tapped out seven.
“What’s two plus two?”
The horse tapped out seven again.
“Well, he’s still smarter than most baseball players,” said Wally.
“What else can he do?” I asked.
“He did my taxes,” said Wally. “Maybe that’s why I got in so much trouble.”
The horse neighed and did a little prance, and only broke in half a couple of times.
“That’s a great horse,” I said. “I think I’ll give him to Dylan.”
“Nah, I don’t think I can teach that horse any tricks,” Dylan replied.
“Well, show’s over,” said Wally. “Thanks to Sammy for playing the front end of the horse, and thanks to Wayne for playing himself.”
The guys all had a big laugh while Wayne tried to think of a comeback.
“We felt bad you had to miss the fair,” Wally told me. “Your friends here came up with all this.” Spike and Dylan each took a little bow. “Besides, your magic kept Grumps in the game.”
“I don’t know about that,” I replied.
Grumps had blown up when he saw the card I gave him, and Solly blew up at the card I gave him. The cards just weren’t working that day.
A moment later, Ryan Kimball ran out of the bull pen, carrying a big bowl.
“Special order from the snack bar!” he announced. “Frozen yogurt sundae with strawberry-rhubarb sauce. And they Frenched up a little toast, just for you.”
There were no marshmallows or chocolate chips, but it looked delicious. It looked amazing. It also looked like way more than I could eat in a million years.
“I’m going to share it,” I said.
“I was hoping you would say that,” said Ryan.
“Me too,” said Wayne. “But there’s probably not enough for everyone, so maybe just you and your favorite horse can split it?”
“Sorry,” I said. “I have another idea.”
wasn’t sure anyone would be in the umpires’ room, but on the third knock a voice shouted to come in.
I opened the door slowly. There was classical music playing in the background.
Solomon Johnson was there, in his street clothes, but his shoes were still off. He was blinking like he’d just woken up.
“Dozed off for a bit,” he said. “Long day. What you got there?”
“Just wanted to bring a snack.” I showed him the sundae.
“You think just because I’m a big guy, all I want is ice cream?”
“It’s kind of healthy,” I told him. “It’s yogurt, not ice cream. And there’s fruit in it.”
“Well, never mind—that looks really good. Let’s dig in.”
We passed it back and forth, taking a few bites each turn.
“Thanks for sharing. This is really delicious.”
“No problem,” I said.
“I’ve been on a diet,” he said. “I’ve been really good too. I had a salad for lunch, and I’ll have another for dinner. I can have a treat once in a while. About once a week.”
I nodded as I took a bite. I would ask Mom for something healthy for dinner too.
“You know that card you gave me?” he said.
“Yeah. Eric Gregg.”
“I shouldn’t have taken it personally. I get a lot of jokes about my weight. I guess Eric got the same grief.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“But Eric Gregg was a great umpire. I really respect him, and I should have taken that card as a compliment.”
“That’s how I meant it,” I told him. “Seriously. I didn’t even know why you got so mad.”
“I made the same mistake everyone else makes. I looked at a heavyset guy, and all I saw was a heavyset guy.”
We ate some more of the sundae, but even the two of us couldn’t finish it.
Most of the players were gone when I got back to the Porcupines’ dugout. Dylan was in his street clothes but was half asleep on the bench by the lockers.
“Whoa,” he murmured. “Good horsey.”
I decided not to interrupt his dreams.
“Just the guy I need to see,” said Grumps.
I felt a bit of dread. Maybe he was going to fire me over that baseball card.
“Wayne and Wally set me straight,” he said. “I know you were just trying to help.”
I felt a huge wave of relief. “Thanks.”
“I get emotional during games,” Grumps admitted. “You know, Billy Martin was a good manager, and he won a lot of games. But what people remember best was that he was a scrapper. They remember the fights, not the wins. I want people to remember me differently.”
“They will,” I said.
“Yeah, right! Did you know the guys call me ‘Grumps’ behind my back?”
“Really?” I pretended I’d never heard it before.
He winked, and I realized he was kidding me. “I thought about that, and I realized that it was time to just tell Solly I was sorry, and move on. Turns out he was just as happy to bury the hatchet. And you know what? I think he umpired fair and square for most of the day.”
“Yeah. I think so too. But … um … sorry about the dunking booth. And your granddaughter’s birthday party.”
“Ah, water dries off, and it’s for a good cause,” said Grumps. “And I got everyone I need for that birthday party.”
“Really? You got a cowboy and a superhero?”
“And a magician and a grade A, top-of-the-line clown,” said Grumps. “I figured Wayne Zane cheated, so I’m holding him to his end of the bet.”
“But who’s playing the other parts?”
“Wayne Zane,” said Grumps. “He’s going to have some uniform changes tomorrow, let me tell you.”
For the first time since I’d known him, Grumps cracked a grin.
About the Author
Kurtis Scaletta’s previous books include Mudville, which Booklist called “a gift from the baseball gods” and named one of their 2009 Top 10 Sports Books for Youth. Kurtis lives in Minneapolis with his wife and son and some cats. He roots for the Minnesota Twins and the Saint Paul Saints. Find out more about him at www.kurtisscaletta.com.
About the Artist
Ethen Beavers has illustrated a bunch of comics and children’s books, including the bestselling NERDS series by Michael Buckley. He lives in California and likes fishing and his wife. He roots for the San Francisco Giants and loves to watch The Natural. You can see more of his drawings online at http://cretineb.deviantart.com.
Kurtis Scaletta, You're Out!
