Neil Armstrong Is My Uncle by Nan Marino

Author:Nan Marino
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Roaring Brook Press
Published: 2009-09-04T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

New Rules

JOHN TAKES HIS position behind home plate. I turn around to make sure the team is on their marks. I nod to second base, and Big Danny shoves the rest of a candy bar into his mouth. Billy Rattle is at first. And somehow Greg McGinty has pushed his way into playing third base. Benny Schuster, who’s normally at third, is playing the outfield.

“Ready when you are, Tammy.” Muscle Man is so cheerful that I want to smack him.

Instead, I do what John Marcos said. I pitch a long slow pitch, the kind that I do for the under-seven crowd.

Talk about a gift. This pitch barely crawls over home plate. Even a runt like Muscle Man could send it flying.

Good thing he’s stiff, because if he was as relaxed as Billy Rattle or John Marcos, it would have gone clear across the railroad tracks and onto Sunrise Highway. Bad enough that it sails past Big Danny and into the outfield.

“Come on! Move it!” I shout to Matthew Donovan, who’s closest to the ball. Or was that Michael?

The Donovan boys reach the ball at the same time and collide into each other.

Muscle Man touches first base and keeps running.

“Throw it here,” Big Danny yells, but the twins are too busy slamming into each other to pay attention to the second baseman.

Michael kicks Matthew in the shins. Matthew hurls a few choice curse words back at him. Benny Schuster scoots between them but gets pushed out of the way by both of them before he gets his hands on the ball.

Muscle Man rounds second, and Big Danny’s hands are still empty.

A few of the other boys scramble toward left field and end up getting pulled into the fight by Benny and the twins.

“Let’s rumble!” shouts Tony Mogavero, as he dives on top of the heap. All I can see is a mound of arms and legs. It’s hard to tell who’s who.

Left field is turning into a free-for-all.

The ball pops up from the middle of the crowd, landing splat onto a place where no one’s standing.

Conchetta Marchetta runs from right field, steps over a pile of boys, picks up the ball and throws it to third, where Muscle Man is heading.

It’s gonna be close.

Greg McGinty reaches for the ball. Muscle Man reaches for the base.

“Safe,” shouts John Marcos.

The only chance we have of tagging him out is if he tries for the home run. “Come on, stupid. Run for home.” I wish it so hard that I must have said the words out loud, because Billy Rattle gives me an odd look. Muscle Man stays on third.

Greg throws the ball to me, and it lands, rock solid, at my stomach.

Billy Rattle scratches the top of his head. “What do we do now?” He waves John Marcos over. Greg McGinty, without being invited, joins the group.

“He’s on third. How’s he going to kick?” asks Billy Rattle.

“He should have thought of that before he challenged everyone. I think he should forfeit his man on third.

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