Return of the Home Run Kid by Matt Christopher

Author:Matt Christopher [CHRISTOPHER, MATT]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV039140
ISBN: 9780316048163
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2008-11-16T05:00:00+00:00

When they returned home, Sylvester picked up his glove and cleaned off little bits of dirt and grass that had sneaked into the crevices. He then got out the special oil he used to keep the leather soft and supple in the right places. As he worked on it, his mind wandered to his two lucky breaks. Last year there was Mr. Baruth and this year Cheeko. Mr. Baruth was gone and he’d never gotten around to asking him a lot of questions. He wasn’t going to let that happen with Cheeko. He was as curious as his parents to know more about him.

The phone interrupted his thoughts. “I’ll get it,” he shouted.

It was Duane Francis.

“Syl, you had some day!” Duane exclaimed. “Keep it up and you’ll end up on a baseball card.”

“Got a little way to go.” Sylvester laughed. “So, are you coming over? I want to see what you got last Sunday.”

“I’ll be there in a jif,” said Duane and hung up.

True to his word, Duane arrived at the Coddmyer house in less than ten minutes. In his hands he held a bulging shoebox, tied with an extralong shoelace.

“Come on in here,” said Sylvester. He led Duane into the dining room with its big polished mahogany table. “We can spread them out on top. Just don’t put anything wet or scratchy down. Mom will have a fit.”

Mrs. Coddmyer called from the next room where she was curled up with a magazine on the couch, “I heard that. And you’re absolutely right!”

Mr. Coddmyer put on a CD and tuned out in his favorite chair, only half aware of the chatter in the adjacent room.

Duane opened the box, removed a stack of cards that were held together by a rubber band, and picked up the top card.

“These are the Detroit Tigers,” he explained, “and this one is Ty Cobb, one of the greatest. Look at his average.”

“Wow! Three sixty-seven,” Sylvester read aloud. “I didn’t know he played with the Philadelphia A’s, too.”

“That’s ’cause you’re not really into the old-timers, like I am,” said Duane seriously. “That’s where the really interesting stuff is.”

“Maybe you’re right,” said Sylvester. “Let’s take a look at some more.”

Duane put Ty Cobb to one side and picked up another and read off the statistics. This was Rudy York, who hit eighteen home runs in the month of August 1937.

“Eighteen in one month!” Sylvester echoed. “Amazing!”

Duane grinned at him. “You almost did that last year, yourself. Remember? Probably would have if we played more than once a week.”

Sylvester grinned broadly. How could he ever forget that season?

They went through the stack of Tigers cards and went on to the Red Sox and then the New York Yankees, one of Duane’s biggest piles.

“Roger Maris!” Sylvester half-shouted as they came across that familiar face. “I know all about him. He busted Babe Ruth’s home run record by one run!”

“Not officially.”

“Well … right. He did play in more games in one season than the Babe.”

“Hey, who said you don’t know anything about old-timers!” Duane picked up another card.

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