Catcher with a Glass Arm Read Online Free Page A

How about it?”
    Jody smiled. “Okay.”
    The man walked away.
    “Who is that?” Jody asked Roddie, who had stopped to wait for him. “He comes to most of our games.”
    “Jim somebody,” said Roddie. “He’s afriend of Coach Fisher’s. What was he saying to you?”
    Jody told him as they went on their way home.
    As days went by so did ball games. Jody showed improvement in his ball throwing, but not in his hitting. In two games he had
     poked out only one hit, and that was a blooper over second. Coach Fisher moved him from seventh to last place in the batting
     order. In the last two games the coach took him out in the fourth inning and had Rabbit Foote catch.
    One day during practice Jim drove up alongside the ballpark and came onto the field. He sat in the stands and watched the
     Dolphins practice.
    Jody caught his eye and smiled. Jim smiled back and waved.
    At bat, Jody remembered what Jim had advised him about not being afraid of a pitched ball, because the helmet would protect
     him; that’s why he wore it.
    He recalled the bang on the head from a pitched ball. He forgot if it had hurt or not. Guess it wasn’t the pain he was afraid
     of, anyway. He was just afraid of being hit, that’s all. He
tried
not to be. But when he stood at the plate he just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help it now. He stepped “into the bucket”
     each time the ball came in instead of stepping straight forward. He was hitting the ball, but not at all as he used to before
     he had been hit on the head.
    “Hey, Jack!” Jim yelled suddenly from the stands. “How about letting me throw in a few?”
    “Sure, Jim,” said the coach. “Come on.”
    “Stay there, Jody!” cried Jim. “Let me throw to you.”
    Jim came in and put on the glove Coach Fisher handed him. He warmed up first, then began throwing to Jody.
    With each pitch Jody’s right foot moved back. He was pulling himself back, too.
    “Stay in there, Jody,” said Jim. “I won’t hit you.”
    Almost all the pitches were over the plate. Jim certainly had marvelous control. Jody tried hard to step straight ahead when
     he swung. Each time he felt a strong urge inside him to pull away from the pitch. It was as if something were
making
him do that.
    He hit a couple of grounders, missed a few pitches, and lined one over first. Then he bunted one down the third-base line.
    Jim grinned at him. “You’re coming around fine, Jody!” he said.
    After practice was over, Jim talked to Coach Fisher a few moments. Jody saw the coach nod.
    “Jody, Frank, Duane, and Birdie”—Coach Fisher snapped off the names—“stick around! Jim wants to work with you awhile!”
    The other boys left—all except Johnny Bartho and Moonie Myers, who sat on the bench to watch.
    Jody wondered what Jim intended to do. In a moment he found out. Jim ordered each player to his regular position, then had
     them throw the ball to each other. That was all they did. They just threw. He had Jody do the most throwing, making him throw
     hard to first, second, and third.
    Jody’s first throws were weak. Gradually he improved. Sometimes his throws were over the baseman’s head. But he wasdoing much better than he had done in any game.
    “This gets me,” Jody heard Moonie grumble from the bench. “What’s he spending all his time on Sinclair for? He’s just wasting
     his time for nothing!”
    “That’s just what I was thinking,” said Johnny. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

8
    E arly Friday morning Jody and Midnight left the house and walked down the street. They were going to the lake about two miles
     away, to sit on Flatiron Rock and watch the ducks for a while, and then come back.
    Suddenly a voice yelled out: “Jody! Wait a minute!”
    Jody turned. Coming around the corner of the street he had just passed was Johnny Bartho. Johnny had started toward him at
     a run.
    Jody waited, a little bit puzzled. Johnny was seldom without Moonie.
    Johnny pulled up alongside him, scuffing his