The 823rd Hit Read Online Free

ask.”
    â€œI didn’t know you were his great-uncle. Promise,” I said. “I don’t want your baseball, either.”
    â€œHmm … All right, then.” The old man sat down. “It was just a surprise, seeing you barge into the kitchen like that.”
    â€œI can see why you want to keep the ball,” Itold him. “Sixty years is a long time. How many games have you seen?”
    â€œToo many to count,” he said. “I’ve been to at least fifty ballparks, major and minor. If they have seats in home run territory, that’s where I sit. I’ve always wanted to catch a home run ball. Ever since I was a kid in Chicago. Me and Carl—that’s my brother, Casey’s grandfather—me and Carl would stand out on Waveland Avenue trying to catch balls hit out of Wrigley Field. I never got one. But Carl did.” He had a faraway look in his eyes. “I wonder if he still has that ball.”
    â€œHe sure does,” said Casey. “Granddad shows it to me every single time we see him, and he tells me the story every time. It was hit by—”
    â€œAndy Pafko, I know,” said Uncle Marvin. “I remember. Carl wanted him to sign that ballmore than anything, but about a week later Pafko was traded to Brooklyn. Broke Carl’s heart. Pafko was his favorite player.” The old man sighed loudly.
    â€œAre you OK?” Casey asked him.
    â€œJust a lot of memories,” said Uncle Marvin.
    We went upstairs to see Casey’s cards. He had just about everything I had, but a lot more of the older ones. It was incredible.
    â€œName a team, a year, and a position,” he told me.
    â€œCardinals, 1982, second base.”
    He went to a box and came up with a card for a player named Tom Herr.
    We played that game about fifty more times before it started to get old.
    Casey did have more cards than me, but I’ll bet he didn’t have any
magic
cards. I kept my favorite cards in a red binder. Some of the Pinesthought the cards in there helped them work miracles on the field. I gave Mike Stammer my Rafael Furcal card and he turned a triple play all by himself. Lance Pantaño finished a perfect game with a little help from my Jim Bunning card. Sammy Solaris even stole a base after I gave him my Bengie Molina card. That might not seem like a big deal unless you’ve seen Sammy run. The pine trees outside Pine City Park could beat him in a footrace. I didn’t think the cards were really magic, but they reminded players what was possible. Too bad there wasn’t a card that would help Teddy Larrabee get his lucky baseball back.
    â€œDo you think your uncle would trade that baseball for anything?” I asked Casey.
    â€œNo way,” he replied. “Not even for Granddad’s ball from Waveland Avenue.”
    â€œHey, how come your uncle Marvin didn’tknow he still had that ball?” I asked him. “If your granddad talks about it all the time, wouldn’t your uncle Marvin know?”
    â€œThey don’t talk much,” he said. “Dad says they had a falling-out years ago.”
    â€œOver what?”
    â€œI don’t know. Before we moved to Pine City, we barely knew Uncle Marvin.”
    â€œThat’s too bad.” I had always wanted a brother. I figured we’d be best friends.
    Casey put his cards away. “I’m missing a few cards,” he admitted. “For example, that guy who hit Granddad’s home run ball? Andy Pafko? I don’t have any cards for him. I sure wish I did. They’re hard to find and worth a lot.”
    â€œThat was a long time ago.”
    â€œA really long time ago,” he agreed.
    â€¢ • •
    I checked my own cards when I got home. I didn’t think I had Andy Pafko. I did have some cards from the 1950s that Grandpa had collected as a kid, but not every player for every team, every year, the way Casey did.
    I had my grandpa’s cards in a