Catcher with a Glass Arm by Matt Christopher Page A

behind Jody. He was so happy he couldn’t say a word.
     Jody was the first to shake his hand and congratulate him.
    “Nice socko, Roddie!”
    There were no more hits that inning. Now the score was 6-5 in the Dolphins’ favor.
    Moonie worked hard on the first batter and struck him out. Then a single through shortchanged things quickly. The runner was the Tigers’ lead-off man, a speedster on the base paths.
    He took a small lead as Moonie climbed upon the mound.
    “Steal, Peter!” a Tigers player yelled from the bench. “That catcher can’t throw! He’s got a glass arm!”
    Jody winced.
A glass arm.
Nobody had ever said that about him before.

2
    M oonie stretched, looked at the man on first. Quickly he turned and snapped the ball to first baseman Birdie Davis. The runner
     scooted back safely.
    Birdie returned the ball to Moonie. Once again Moonie went through his stretch. Again came the cry from the Tigers’ bench:
    “Steal, Peter!”
    The pitch came in, slightly high and outside. Jody caught it. He saw the runner racing for second, head lowered and arms pumping
     hard. Jody heaved the ball, makingsure he didn’t throw too hard for fear the ball might sail over Rabbit Foote’s head.
    Instead—the ball fell short! Rabbit missed the hop and the ball bounced out to the outfield. The runner raced on, to third.
     He stayed there as center fielder Arnie Smith made a perfect peg in to Moonie.
    “I told you he had a glass arm, Peter!” yelled that same voice from the Tigers’ bench.
    Jody tried to ignore the cry. But he couldn’t. The words
glass arm
stormed through his mind like an echo.
    Moonie toed the rubber and threw in a low inside pitch that was probably harder than any he had thrown. Jody never thought
     that the batter would bite at it. But the batter did. He hit a dribbler toward the mound. Moonie picked it up and tossed it
     to first for the put-out.
    Two outs. The runner was still on third.
    One more out, thought Jody… just one more, and this rough inning will be over.
    Crack!
A line drive over Moonie’s head! The runner scored, and the hitter held up at first.
    The game was tied up now, 6-6. Jody pressed his lips firmly together, yanked on his chest protector, and returned to his spot
     behind the plate.
    The pitch … a hit to short! Rabbit picked it up, threw to second… .
Out!
    Jody whipped off his mask and walked to the bench. He didn’t look at anyone, but he heard someone from behind the backstop
     screen say, “Don’t let it bother you, Jody. You’ll get that ball up there.”
    On the bench Coach Jack Fisher patted Jody on the knee. “You seem to be afraid to throw that ball, pal. Heave it hard. Let
     it fly.”
    Jody shook his head. There was nothing he could say.
    Now Mike Brink, pinch-hitting for Arnie Smith, started the ball rolling. He singled through second, and scored on a double
     by Johnny Bartho. That was all the Dolphins put across that half-inning, but it was enough. The Tigers couldn’t do a thing
     at their turn at bat, and the game went to the Dolphins, 7-6.
    Jody removed his catching gear and put it into the canvas bag. He had started walking toward the gate when a tall, thin man
     with a crew cut and dark-rimmed glasses approached him.
    “Good game, Jody. You did a great job behind that plate.”
    “Thank you,” said Jody, trying to smile. “Guess I can’t throw worth beans, though.”
    “Don’t worry. You have a strong arm. I can tell. You’re just afraid to use all that power.” He smiled and Jody smiled with
     him.
    “Want to come home with us?” the man invited.
    Jody didn’t know whom he meant by “us.” He had never seen the man before. “No, thanks,” he said. “I don’t live very far from
     here. I can walk home.”
    “Okay. See you at the next game.”
    “Good-bye,” said Jody.
    The man walked toward Coach Fisher and a group of boys who were helping him load up the canvas bag. Jody turned and stepped
     through the