Steal That Base! Read Online Free

headed toward the plate.
    â€œStay awake out there,” shouted the manager. “Don’t let them catch you napping.”
    Usually that’s just a saying, but with this guy it could happen! It might be a good day to steal a base—even for Sammy Solaris.
    I ate my lunch while the Porcupines batted. The pasta salad was OK, but it was no corn dog. The baby carrots would have been better with nacho cheese.
    Sammy batted fourth in the inning. Tommy Harris was on third and there were two outs. The pitcher walked Sammy on four pitches. It was baseball strategy. If Sammy got a hit, Tommy would score. But since the bases were not loaded, Tommy couldn’t score on a walk.
    Now would be a good time to steal second. Ifthe catcher’s throw to second base wasn’t perfect, the runner on third could come home. They call that a double steal. I looked over at Grumps standing in the Porcupines’ dugout. Sometimes he’d slap his legs and his shoulders and tug on the brim of his hat. It was a sign to the base runner. It might mean “steal a base” or “run on contact.”
    There was no sign this time. Grumps just stood there and stared at Sammy Solaris. I knew that look from Mom and Dad. It meant: Don’t even think about it.
    Sammy didn’t budge.
    Wayne Zane flied out on the first pitch. Then Mike Stammer struck out, and the inning was over. Sammy Solaris didn’t get one foot closer to stealing a base.
    Victor Snapp’s deep voice bellowed over the speaker system. “Please welcome the Porcupines’ senior and junior mascots . . . Pokey and Spike!”
    The crowd cheered. The two porcupines rolled out in a golf cart and stopped in the infield.
    Spike jumped out of the cart and set down a giant boom box. The little porcupine pushed a button and rap music blared. Spike danced and the crowd clapped.
    Pokey covered his ears and shook his head. He climbed out of the cart and punched a button on the boom box. The music died.
    The crowd played along. They booed Pokey.
    Pokey covered his ears but finally gave in and turned the music back on. Spike started dancing again. Everyone cheered.
    â€œI’m with the big porcupine,” Ernie Hecker shouted. “This song is terrible!”
    Spike looked up to where Ernie was sitting and thumbed his porcupine nose. The crowd loved it.

ustavo Perez, the Finches’ first baseman, poked at the dugout fence. The spider dropped to the turf and scurried away.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” I asked.
    â€œTrying to smoosh that spider,” Gustavo said. “Did you see where it went?”
    â€œNo—don’t!”
    â€œLook, kid, spiders get smooshed sometimes. And I don’t like spiders.”
    â€œI know, but Dylan likes that spider.”
    â€œWho’s Dylan?”
    â€œHe’s the other batboy. He’s the one whowrote that note.” I pointed at the paper taped to the fence.
    â€œâ€˜It is not the kind of spider that bites people,’” Gustavus read aloud. “How does your friend know?”
    â€œBecause he’s really good at science,” I said.
    â€œSpiders eat insects,” the Finches’ pitcher said from the bench. His name was Todd Farnsworth. “I’ll bet this one gobbles up gnats and mites. Would you rather have gnats and mites in your face, Gus?”
    â€œNo,” Gustavo admitted.
    â€œThen leave the kid’s pet spider alone.”
    The Finches’ catcher was sitting next to him. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Maybe that thing can play in the outfield,” he said.
    We all looked at him.
    â€œIt can catch flies. Get it?”
    â€œGo back to sleep, Jonny,” said the pitcher.
    Not much happened for the next two innings. In the bottom of the fourth inning, a couple of the Finches’ bench players asked me to fetch some sunflower seeds.
    â€œThree bags of sunflower seeds,” I told the woman at the food