Mystery Coach Read Online Free PDF

He landed on his belly, mad at himself for having forgotten to play his position where he should have on
     the right-handed hitter. He had been playing it as if a left-hander were batting.

    Two runs scored.
    The next hit was a soft fly behind second. Chris, still hurt thinking about the previous play, dropped back.
    He reached for the ball—and missed it! The runner on first bolted for second and the hitter was safe.
    “Richards!” bawled Steve Herrick angrily. “What do you need to catch a ball? A basket?”

8
    C HRIS KICKED at the dirt, wishing he could make himself invisible. He was playing the worst he had ever played. Steve was right. He should
     use a basket instead of a glove.
    “Forget it, Chris!” Tex yelled from third. “Get the next one!”
    Oh, sure
, thought Chris.
But the next one won’t cancel out the error I made on that easy, blooping fly
.
    Abe Ryan managed to put two strikes over the plate on the next Scorpion, thenwas hit for a single that brought in another run. A pop-up to Tex and then a slow grounder to short accounted for two quick
     outs. Now the runners were on second and third and the Scorpions’ cleanup hitter was at the plate.
    Abe pitched to him. His first two throws were so wide that Frank had to stretch for them. His next pitch cut the inside corner
     for a strike. Then the Scorpion lambasted a belt-high pitch to left center field for a double, and both runners scored.
    “Time!” yelled Steve Herrick.
    “Time!” echoed the umpire.
    Steve trotted toward the mound, looking at Coach Edson sitting in the dugout. Chris looked too. You’d think that the coach
     had his mind a thousand miles away. But suddenly he turned to Bill Lewis sitting beside him and motioned him to go in.
    Bill dragged himself out of the dugout and to the mound as if he were loaded down with weights.
    What a team
, thought Chris. Bill should have been warming up ever since the Scorpions had started to knock Abe’s pitches all over the
     lot. But it was Coach Edson’s job to have instructed Bill to do so. No one else’s.
    A smattering of applause rose as Abe Ryan walked off the field, his head bowed. He handed the ball to Bill, who stepped to
     the mound and started to do what he should have been doing in the bull pen.
    After seven or eight throws the umpire called time-in and the game resumed.
    Bill hurled his first pitch too far inside. The hitter couldn’t dodge it and was hit.
    “Take your base!” cried the ump.
    This is just great
, fumed Chris.
From the frying pan into the fire
.
    The next Scorpion went the limit, thensmacked the three-two pitch for a high-hopping grounder to second. The ball was to Chris’s right side, but he was playing
     his position as the mystery coach had reminded him to do on a right-handed hitter. He caught the ball, made the play at second
     base unassisted, and the terrible half-inning was over.
    He headed for the drinking fountain behind the dugout.
    “Well, where are you going on your vacation?” asked a voice behind him.
    He turned, spat out part of the water, and frowned at Steve Herrick. “What vacation?”
    “What vacation? The Blazers have fallen apart, man! Didn’t, you see what went on out there? You were a part of it.”
    “I’m no pro,” said Chris. “Neither is anybody else.”
    Mick Antonelli came running forward. “Man, did we blow that lead,” he exclaimed.“And Bill wasn’t even warmed up when he went to the mound!”
    Chris’s temper flared as he looked from Mick to Steve. “What do you mean? That this is it? That we won’t be playing other
     games just because the Scorpions had a hot time at bat?”
    “At the same time you and some other guys played like real beginners,” said Steve, matching Chris’s tone of voice.
    “Besides that, Coach Edson just sits in the dugout like a statue,” added Mark. “I’m with Steve. I think we ought to fold.”
    “You don’t want to give us a chance!” retorted Chris. “This is only our first