Dugout Hero Read online

  Rhino thought that over. “You were like an assistant coach,” he said. “I guess I could do that, too. It’s not as good as playing, though.”

  “I think you’ll be surprised what you notice when you watch the game and aren’t caught up with playing. There’s a lot more going on than you probably ever realized.” Grandpa said as he sat back down in his chair.

  Just be patient, Rhino’s thinker said. Let my ankle heal.

  “You’ll learn some things that will make you a better player, too,” Grandpa said. “Use your thinker to size up what you see. Let it really sink in.”

  “Your brain is an important piece of sports equipment,” C.J. said. “I’m always thinking.”

  Grandpa cleared his throat. “Except when your thinker turns off.”

  C.J. laughed. “Sorry about the chair,” he said. “I was tired, Grandpa! Hungry, too.”

  “No harm this time,” Grandpa said. “You tracked in a lot of dirt, though. You can sweep that up after dinner.”

  Rhino fought back a smile. C.J. noticed. “I suppose your injury gets you out of your chores,” C.J. said.

  Rhino looked hopefully at Grandpa.

  “You can do the dishes,” Grandpa said. “You don’t need your ankle for that.”

  Rhino grinned. He took another scoop of rice. “I’d better empty these dishes then,” he said. “My appetite isn’t injured, that’s for sure.”

  Cooper greeted Rhino with a high five as he entered the classroom. Rhino had only missed one day of school, but he was glad to be back.

  “Let me show you something,” Cooper said. He opened his desk and took out a pair of black-and-silver gloves. “My cousin gave them to me,” Cooper said. “Batting gloves! I can’t wait to use them at practice today.”

  The gloves had leather palms and stretchy fingers. They helped a player grip the bat tighter and absorbed some of the impact from hitting the ball.

  “Very cool,” Rhino said. “Like the pros wear.”

  “You can try them, too,” Cooper said. “When you’re ready to play, I mean.”

  Rhino frowned. He felt ready to play right now, but it would be at least a week until he could. Grandpa was going to drive him to practice after school so he could be with his team, but he couldn’t help feeling left out.

  He did his best to pay attention during math. Sometimes his mind drifted. He saw himself swinging the bat and smacking the ball deep into the outfield. It flew higher and higher. Over the fence for a home run!

  Get back to Earth, his thinker told him. Pay attention to the teacher.

  During reading class, Rhino felt his mind wandering again. This time he was planning out what he would say during the lunchtime conversation later in the day. Rhino was excited to tell his friends about the types of minerals that had been discovered on Mars. He glanced at the clock. Lunch was a long way off, and he was really looking forward to that astronomy talk. He’d be missing recess so he could ice his ankle.

  I need to be responsible and take care of my foot, Rhino thought to himself. I’ll ice it at recess and meet my friends at lunch and it’ll all be fine. Rhino tried to pay attention to the rest of the lesson.

  When recess time came, Rhino’s classmates hurried out to the playground to play games. Rhino heard them chattering happily as he walked to the nurse’s office. His ankle was a bit sore, but he didn’t limp at all.

  “Hello, Ryan,” said the nurse, Mrs. Campbell. “I heard you had a little accident.”

  “It’s not too bad,” Rhino said. “The ice helps.”

  Mrs. Campbell put some ice cubes in a plastic bag. She placed a towel over Rhino’s ankle and put the ice pack on it. Rhino had his reading book with him. He could get his homework assignment for tomorrow done now.

  But he couldn’t concentrate on the book. He saw himself racing around the bases after hitting the ball into the outfield. Then he made a great, diving catch on a line drive. Rhino played out every inning of an imaginary game in his mind. Of course, since it was his imagination, the Mustangs won easily. And Rhino hit a couple of very deep home runs.

  The time passed quickly. When he heard the bell ring for the end of recess, Rhino hadn’t read a single page even though he was holding the book open. He wanted to get back into that imaginary baseball game.

  “I’ll see you again at noon,” Mrs. Campbell said.

  “You will?”

  “Yes,” she said. “You’re scheduled to ice the ankle again at lunchtime.”

  That was news to Rhino. He’d miss the astronomy discussion at the lunch table!

  “I think my ankle is better,” he said. “Maybe I can skip the icing.”

  “Oh, no,” the nurse said. “The doctor said this is the last day for the ice, but you need to complete the process.”

  Rhino nodded. He knew that was the right thing to do.

  But I’m being left out of everything! This stinks!

  Rhino’s classmates were coming in from recess. They didn’t see him as he walked a few feet behind in the hallway.

  “Wow, that was fun,” said a girl.

  “I’m sweating!” said Cooper. “That was a great game of tag.”

  Rhino’s ankle felt numb from the ice. He loved tag. He loved every game on the playground.

  An hour later, he was back in the nurse’s office. He chewed his peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich as he iced the ankle again. Even his favorite sandwich didn’t taste so good today. His friends were having fun without him.

  This is for the best—

  Shut up, thinker!

  Rhino let out a sigh. He sipped from his milk carton and stared at the ceiling. No baseball. No planet discussion. And he forgot to bring a bag of BBQ chips!

  At least tomorrow things would start getting back to normal.

  Okay, thinker. Let me have it.

  This is for the best. Be patient. Be proud.

  Be quiet!

  Rhino began to smile. He liked arguing with his thinker sometimes, and he was proud. He was handling this setback like a grown-up. Being patient was hard, but he knew his ankle was getting better. He’d be ready next week.

  Rhino passed Bella in the hallway. She raised her shoulders in a big shrug and asked, “Where were you?”

  “Last session with the ice,” Rhino said. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “You better be.”

  “What did you talk about?” Rhino asked. “The dust storms on Mars? Venus’s volcanos?”

  Bella laughed. “We talked about you!”

  “Me?”

  “Everyone felt bad that you were missing out,” Bella said. “So we decided not to discuss the planets until you are back.”

  “Wow. That was nice of you.”

  “Everybody likes you, Rhino,” Bella said. “When you and Cooper joined the group, it got more interesting. You always have something new to tell us.”

  Rhino felt his face grow warm. He looked down at his feet. “Thanks,” he said.

  “See you at practice?”

  “I’ll be there,” Rhino replied. “I’ll be stuck in the dugout, but I’ll be there.”

  “Great,” Bella said. “The Mustangs wouldn’t be complete without you.”

  Bella hurried away to her classroom. Rhino lifted his right foot and gently flexed the ankle. No pain. Very little stiffness. It would be all better soon.

  The hallway was empty. Rhino made two fists, as if he was gripping a baseball bat. He looked up the hall, imagining a pitcher forty-six feet away. He waited for the fastball. In his mind, he brought back the bat and swung.

  Good-bye, Mr. Baseball, he thought. He could see the ball soaring over the center-field fence. He just had to wait a little longer.

  Rhino touched the big white M on his baseball cap. Then he smelled the inside of the brim. The dried sweat reminded him how much he loved the game.

  As Grandpa James drove into the parking lot, Rhino could see his teammates gathering on the field. It made him happy to see baseballs flying through the air.
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  “This is where I belong,” Rhino said. “Thanks for bringing me.”

  “You’re welcome,” Grandpa said. “It’s important to support your teammates, even if you can’t play.”

  Rhino had to remind himself not to run from the car to the dugout. He would have to resist swinging a bat or throwing a ball to Cooper. It was all part of being patient.

  Dylan stepped into the dugout and gave Rhino his wise-guy smile. “I’ve played with much worse injuries than that,” he said, pointing to Rhino’s foot. “You’re being a wimp.”

  Dylan always managed to say something to annoy Rhino. They’d had plenty of arguments early in the season, but lately they’d been getting along. Dylan tried to pick on everyone.

  “I’m just kidding,” Dylan said. He ran his hand through his short blond hair. “I’m sure you’ll play as soon as the boo-boo heals.”

  “I’m doing what the doctor told me to do,” Rhino said. “And it’s working! Can’t you ever mind your own business?” Rhino was trying to be responsible by following the doctor’s orders. The last thing he wanted to do was reinjure his ankle.

  Dylan smacked his hand into his glove. “My business is pitching,” he said. He left the dugout and walked toward the mound.

  What a pest, Rhino thought. Dylan was a very good player but not always a good teammate. Rhino had gotten into it with Dylan when he thought Dylan had stolen his bat. But it turned out Dylan was innocent and Ryan felt bad for accusing him with no evidence. Ever since then, Rhino tried to be more patient with Dylan, even though he still said the wrong thing sometimes.

  Coach Ray had the Mustangs working on fielding today. He stood by home plate and hit ground balls to the infielders. After catching the ball, they threw it to first base.

  Dylan stopped a sharp grounder and made the easy throw to Paul at first. Carlos did the same at second base. But when Cooper stabbed a hot grounder deep at shortstop, his long throw bounced in the dirt before reaching Paul.

  Paul had his glove extended and his foot on the base. When the ball bounced, he leaned back, and the ball rose up and hit him in the arm. The same thing happened a few minutes later on a long throw from third. Both times, the ball rolled all the way to the fence.

  “Don’t be afraid of the ball!” Dylan yelled.

  “I’m not afraid,” Paul mumbled.

  “Then catch it,” Dylan said. He shook his head and frowned.

  “Don’t be such a poor sport,” Rhino whispered, but nobody else heard it.

  “Dylan,” Coach Ray said sternly. “We’re all learning here. It doesn’t help to cut down your teammates.”

  “It’s simple, Coach,” Dylan said. “We field it. We throw it. He’s supposed to catch it.”

  Make Dylan try playing first base, Rhino thought. He’ll see that it isn’t as easy as he thinks. But he didn’t say anything. Coach Ray would make those decisions.

  Rhino could see that backing away from a bouncing ball made it harder to catch. But he understood why Paul was doing it. When the ball was thrown in the air, it was easy to see where it was going. But a bounce in the dirt made its path harder to judge. Rhino had been hit with the ball a few times when it bounced in an unexpected direction.

  “Hang in there, Paul!” Rhino called. “You’re doing great and working hard.”

  Dylan rolled his eyes at Rhino.

  Rhino held his tongue. Don’t stir up trouble on the team, his thinker told him. Grandpa James always said to use your thinker before saying something out loud. But Rhino thought of himself as a leader of his teammates. He’d speak to Dylan when they were alone.

  Coach continued the drill for about twenty more minutes. Paul caught nearly all of the accurate throws. He made a few good catches on wide throws or high ones. But he still had trouble when the ball bounced before it reached him. He bobbled a couple of easy ones and looked frustrated.

  “Batting practice!” Coach called. “Dylan, Cooper, Carlos, come in to bat. I’ll pitch today.”

  Dylan jogged to the dugout and put on a batting helmet.

  “Make good contact,” Rhino said. “Send one over the fence.”

  “Thanks. I plan to.” Dylan picked up a bat and grinned.

  “Wait a minute,” Rhino said. “See what happened? I said something supportive. Felt good, huh?”

  Dylan smirked. “I just want us to win,” he said. “I’m not trying to be mean to Paul.”

  “Then say something helpful,” Rhino replied. “Or nothing at all.”

  But Rhino wondered if he was being helpful. Could he help Paul play better? He’d have to think about that. He could tell Paul that he was doing great, but what good was that if Paul really wasn’t?

  Dylan was right about one thing. Paul would help the team if he managed to catch more of those throws.

  Dylan’s style was too harsh to be helpful. But maybe my words were too soft, Rhino thought. He needed something more useful to say to Paul. Something that would actually make him better at catching.

  Rhino left the bench and leaned against the dugout fence. He watched what the infielders did with every hit ball. He focused on what Paul did when he tried to catch their throws. He studied Paul’s footwork and noticed how often he backed away from the ball. Paul seemed more interested in protecting himself from getting hit than actually making the play.

  I never would have noticed those things if I was out on the field, Rhino thought. Maybe a few days away from the action is a good thing after all.

  Rhino was starting to get some ideas. He’d made many of those same mistakes himself. Grandpa and C.J. had helped him learn the right way to make the play. Maybe they could help him help Paul.

  It was pizza night! Grandpa and Rhino drove to the middle school to pick up C.J., and they headed to Roman’s.

  “We’ll eat at home,” Grandpa said. “I phoned in the order earlier. And I made a big salad.”

  The café was very busy, but their pizza was ready. Rhino waved to a girl from his class who was seated at a booth with her parents. An old rock ’n’ roll song was playing, and red candles flickered on the tabletops.

  Rhino’s mouth watered all the way home. The smell of pizza crust and cheese and tomato sauce filled the car. He lifted the lid just a little and inhaled. “Awesome,” he said.

  “Don’t touch!” Grandpa said with a laugh. “No picking at the crust.”

  Rhino grabbed two slices as soon as he sat down at the dining room table. “I didn’t think I’d build such an appetite sitting in the dugout,” he joked.

  “You boys are always ready to eat,” Grandpa said. “But have some salad before you take any more pizza. And I have a special surprise for dessert.”

  Rhino scooped the mix of lettuce and tomatoes onto his plate. Grandpa had added some olives and green peas.

  “Uh-oh,” said C.J from across the table. “Those aren’t the peas Rhino had on his foot all weekend are they?”

  “Ha!” Grandpa said. “What’s a little foot odor?”

  C.J. raised his eyebrows.

  “Rest easy,” Grandpa said. “I threw the ankle peas away. We froze and re-froze those twenty times. They turned into jelly by the time Little Rhino was finished with them.” Grandpa smiled. “You boys stay here while I go take care of something in the kitchen.”

  When Grandpa was gone, Rhino told C.J. about Paul’s troubles at first base. “He seems afraid of the ball when it bounces in the dirt.”

  “Ah, the short hop,” C.J. said. “Throws in the dirt are tough to judge. The trick is to watch the ball closely so you can read the bounce. Get as close to it as you can. That way, you catch it on the way up, but before it gets too high. You keep your glove open and move it toward the ball.”

  Rhino nodded. He’d figured some of that out by watching.

  “Look,” C.J. said. “I’ll demonstrate.” He bounced a pea off the wooden table and it hit Rhino in the chest. “You weren’t ready for that. Bounce one at me.”

  Rhino looked toward the kitchen. Grandpa was
still in there. Rhino threw a pea hard, bouncing it in the middle of the table. C.J. jutted his hand forward and stopped it with his palm. “See, I met the ball while it was rising. I controlled it. Try another.”

  Rhino’s second pea splatted on the table. It left a smudge of green.

  “You need a firmer one,” C.J. said. “Try again.”

  Rhino picked through his salad bowl. He held a pea between two fingers and decided that it was rubbery enough.

  This pea bounced. C.J. caught it and closed his fist around it.

  “You have quick reflexes,” Rhino said. “But a baseball is a lot harder. When you get hit with one, it stings.”

  “That’s true,” C.J. said. “So you have to get your glove on it. You have to catch that ball before it catches you.”

  “Right.” Rhino eyed the pizza box. There were three slices left, but Grandpa had eaten only one. He’d probably want two more. Maybe Rhino could split the last piece with C.J.

  C.J. howled as a pea hit Rhino’s cheek. “Where are your reflexes?” he asked.

  “No fair,” Rhino said. He wiped the pea away with his thumb and winced. “I was looking at the pizza.”

  “Expect the unexpected,” C.J. said. He fired another pea toward Rhino. And at that second, Grandpa came back into the room.

  “Nice aim,” Grandpa said. “Is that what we do with our food?”

  “I … I was showing Rhino something,” C.J. said. “For baseball.”

  “I see,” Grandpa said. “Throwing a curveball with a pea?”

  “It was about fielding,” C.J. replied.

  “It’s true,” Rhino said. “He was teaching me how to field a short hop.”

  Grandpa stared at the smashed pea on the table. He shook his head and laughed. “You boys sure are amusing. From now on, do your baseball playing out in the yard. With a baseball. Got it?”

  “Got it,” both boys replied.

  Grandpa sat down with a bag.

  “C.J., you can vacuum the dining room tonight,” Grandpa said. “And don’t grind any loose peas into the carpet.”

  C.J. nodded.

  Rhino cut a pizza slice in half and peeled it out of the box. “Thanks for the tip,” he said to C.J.