Return of the Home Run Kid by Matt Christopher

downward arc, Bobby tripped as though he’d stumbled into something.
    It seemed miles away, but Sylvester had to try for it. From out of nowhere, he felt a rush of energy as he made his move. With lightning speed, he crossed into the center field zone, put out his glove, and grabbed the ball just inches from the turf.
    There was a thunderous ovation as the Redbirds came off the field. Sylvester could hear his name being called in the midst of all the shouting.
    Flopping down onto the bench, Bobby shook his head as he tried to explain what happened.
    “Like, it was weird,” he said. “It felt like somone pulled the ground out from under my foot.”
    “Maybe it was a ghost.” Ted Sobel offered this with a laugh.
    Sylvester felt a little lump in his throat.
    The Hooper team went down in three as they came to bat in the top of the fourth inning. In the bottom, Robbie Axelrod led off for the Falcons and made the game interesting by blasting a home run over the left field fence.
    Tom Stringer kept things rolling by smashing a hard grounder down toward the shortstop position. It looked as if Trent had it, but it went through his legs for an error.
    Get your tailgate down, Big Shot, Sylvester felt like yelling at him — but knew enough not to.
    Ed Norman flied out to center field, but Greg Jackson smacked a triple along the third base line. That scored Tom and brought up the smartmouth pitcher, Duke Farrell.
    Two runs, one out, and a man was on third.
    Sylvester joined in with his teammates, shouting toward the mound, “Hold ’em, Terry! You can do it!”
    But Duke slashed a single by the pitcher to score Greg and put the Falcons ahead by one run.
    Coach Corbin ran out of the dugout as the umpire raised his hands for a time out.
    The coach talked with Terr)’ for a moment, then took the ball from the downcast pitcher. He waved in Rick Wilson, who had been warming up in front of the first base seats.
    After a few warm-up throws, the game resumed. Rick managed to hold Ray Bottoms to a groundout to second, and Kirk Anderson to a pop fly to first base. Three out. Redbirds 4, Falcons 5.
    Ted led off in the top of the fifth with a single through the gap between first and second bases. Trent, up next, lined one over short, advancing Ted to second.
    Sylvester stepped into the batters box. A big cheer rose up from the Redbirds’ fans as he thumped the fat end of his bat against the plate and waited for the pitch.
    As he stared down the pitcher, he tried to forget the sensation of being hit by the ball last time. Instead, he checked out his stance, his grip, and each pitch as it came toward him.
    “Strike!”
    It was inside, just grazing the plate.
    “Strike two!” The second pitch was almost in the veiy same spot.
    Then, “Ball!” Yes, but it just missed the plate by an inch. Duke was in his absolute best form.
    Then, crack! Sylvester swung, connected, and drove the ball toward deep center field. It cleared the fence by five feet and cleaned the bases for three runs.
    The ovation was deafening as Sylvester dropped his bat and circled the bases.
    His teammates greeted him with high fives as he crossed the plate — again, all but Trent, who hung back. And, as he headed for the dugout, there was Snooky Malone jumping up and down.
    “I can’t help it, Sylvester,” said Snooky, his voice hoarse from cheering. “You came through, just as I knew you could — and would.”
    Sylvester barely slapped Snooky’s extended hand before he turned away. But I have to admit that the little guy sure had guts to come over and congratulate me, after the way I’ve been treating him. Maybe I ought to take it easy on him, he considered.
    But Snooky had vanished. Sylvester removed his batting gloves, pushed them into his pocket, and settled down in the dugout.
    This game is going so great, he thought. I hope my folks are out there somewhere. Mom said she was going to try to get someone to cover for her at work. Maybe she got here in time for