Part 11 (1/2)
”Oh, that wouldn't be any fun,” Flip said.
Satch was throwing all fastb.a.l.l.s, so he didn't even bother looking for a sign. He got two quick strikes on the batter, who called time and stepped out of the batter's box for a moment.
”Whatsa matter?” Satch asked. ”You nervous? Hey, I'm the one that ain't got no defense!”
The crowd laughter turned to cheers when Satch hummed in another fast one and the guy waved at it.
”Steeeeerike three!” yelled the ump. ”Two outs!”
The next Clown up must have been reading my mind, because as soon as Satch wound up, the batter squared around to bunt. Satch threw the ball way inside, and the Clown dove backward like a train was coming at him.
”Don't be buntin' on me!” Satch yelled as the batter got up off the dirt. ”Take your three swings like a man!”
That's exactly what the guy did.
Strike one.
Strike two.
Strike three.
And that was it. Satch had struck out the side with the bases loaded and the only fielder in fair territory was himself. The crowd just about exploded as Satch walked off the mound. I thought the wooden stands were going to collapse. Flip was going crazy. Laverne stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out an ear-splitting whistle.
After that second inning, the Stars replaced Satch with another pitcher. He wasn't nearly as much fun to watch, but we stuck around anyway. We really didn't have a choice, because Satch was our ride. I figured he'd come get us when he was ready to go.
I kept looking over at Flip and Laverne to see how they were getting along. They were talking to each other, but it didn't look like any romantic sparks were flying. I kept whispering in Flip's ear that he should put his arm around her, but he wouldn't do it.
The score was 2-2 in the eighth inning when the manager of the Clowns came out on the field carrying a bullhorn.
”Attention, ladies and gentlemen,” he called. ”Due to illness, our pitching staff is deeply depleted. We got n.o.body left.”
”Booooooooo!” the crowd replied.
”But I have good news!” the manager hollered. ”I'm lookin' for a fresh arm. Anybody out there know how to pitch?”
A buzz went through the crowd, but n.o.body came out of the stands.
”Stosh told me you're a ballplayer, Flip,” Laverne said. ”Why don't you go out there and pitch?”
”I'm really not that good,” Flip mumbled.
”Go on, Flip!” I said. ”What've you got to lose?”
”Nah, it's been years since I threw a ball.”
Flip was hopeless. I couldn't take it anymore. I got up out of my seat.
”Hey,” I shouted, ”my friend here can pitch!”
”Stos.h.!.+” Flip whispered. ”I'm not goin' out there!”
”What's your friend's name, son?” the manager asked.
”His name is Flip,” I said, even as Flip was trying to put his hand over my mouth. ”Flip Valentini. He's a great pitcher.”
”We got a white boy here who's a great pitcher!” the manager hollered. ”Come on down, Flip!”
”Go ahead, Flip,” urged Laverne. ”Show 'em what you can do.”
The fans started stamping their feet on the bleachers and chanting, ”Flip! Flip! Flip!”
I don't think I ever saw anyone look so embarra.s.sed in my life. Reluctantly, Flip stood up, and everyone cheered. People clapped him on the back as he made his way down to the front row. He climbed over the low fence next to the dugout.
Somebody gave Flip a glove, a hat, and a pair of cleats to put on. The manager gave him a little shove and Flip walked out to the pitcher's mound.
”Now pitching for the Indianapolis Clowns,” said the announcer, ”FLIP VALENTINI!”
The catcher tossed him a ball, and Flip promptly threw his first warm-up pitch over the catcher's head and against the backstop. A few hecklers shouted out good-natured insults. Flip looked nervous, but settled down and found the plate with his next pitch.
You could tell Flip was a natural pitcher. He had a nice, easy motion. The ball popped into the catcher's mitt like it had some velocity. It was obvious that he knew what he was doing out there.
”I'm so excited!” Laverne squealed, crossing her fingers.
”Batter up!” called the ump.
Laverne and I leaned forward in our seats. This is perfect, I thought. Even if Flip didn't know how to get to first base with Laverne, she'd be so impressed by his pitching that she'd fall even more crazy in love with him. Girls dig jocks.
”Flip! Flip! Flip!” chanted the crowd.
On the mound, Flip got set and the Star first baseman stepped up to the plate. He was a big, mean-looking guy. Flip went into his windup. He threw. The guy swung.
Bam!
I don't think I ever saw a ball go so far. It was still rising when it cleared the left field fence. It probably landed somewhere near Pittsburgh.
”Oooooooooh!” groaned the crowd.
”Nice changeup, whitey!” somebody yelled. ”Now let's see your fastball!”
”That was a lucky hit, Flip!” I hollered as the batter trotted around the bases.
”You can do it, Flip!” Laverne shouted.
The ump tossed Flip another ball. The next batter came up to the plate. Flip took a deep breath, kicked up his leg, and tried again.
Bam!