The Diamond Champs by Matt Christopher Page B

left-handed throw to first pulled A. J. Campbell off the base. But A. J., who seemed capable of handling his position, caught
     the ball easily, winged it hack to Kim, and Kim threw it to Nick Forson, the Steelheads' catcher.
    “That's crazy,” said Larry Wells, sitting in the stands with Kim.
    “What is?” Kim asked.
    “A left-hander playing third base,” replied Larry. “He should change positions with A. J. A right-hander can catch a ball
     and get the throw off quicker at third than a left-hander can. I don't get it.”
    Kim shook his head. “Neither do I. Man, Coach Stag sure has some weird ideas about organizing and coaching a team.”
    “Telling me?” said Larry. “I've never seen anything like it.”
    Kim smiled as a thought crossed hismind. “Know what? It sure would be something if we won the championship!”
    Larry laughed. “Win the championship? You're far out, man!”
    Kim shrugged. Maybe he was, but the way Coach Stag was making the team practice could make winning the championship possible.
     Coach Stag was no ordinary coach. As a matter of fact, there was something very
extra-ordinary
about him. He was putting so much effort into training his players that you'd think he was getting paid for it.
    Yet the method he was using to make a good, solid team was odd. He seemed to know and understand the game well, yet he had
     a few peculiar ideas. Whoever did hear of a left-hander playing third base? Could he possibly be seeing a potential in Eric's
     playing that position that other fans or players could not?
    But what about me
? Kim thought.
What potential could he see in me? I'm just abeginner. There must be other guys around he could have selected instead of me
.
    But the team's roster had been formed, and the coach apparently wasn't going to change it.
    There was a short, redheaded kid standing in front of the backstop wearing a glove, backing up the catcher on wild throws.
     Until now Kim hadn't paid any attention to him.
    “What's Don Morgan doing here?” he asked finally, recognizing the boy, with whom he played football.
    “I don't know.” Larry cupped his hands and shouted. “Hey, Don! What are you doing? Chasing balls?”
    Don turned, smiled, and shrugged. “I'm manager. When the league starts I'll be scorekeeper, too.” Cupping his hands, he added
     in a lower voice, “It's for the birds!”
    Kim laughed. “Good luck!” he said.
    “What are you guys doing here?” Don inquired.
    “We're outfielders,” explained Kim. “We practiced yesterday, and we're practicing again tomorrow.”
    Don's eyes narrowed as they settled on Kim. “I thought you didn't play baseball.”
    “I'm playing now,” replied Kim.
    Don shook his head perplexedly as he turned away to chase after a ball that had bounced past the coach to the backstop.
    It seemed, thought Kim, that he was learning something new about the Steelheads every time he saw another face. He was sure
     that Don had played on a team in the Bantam League that had finished in second or third place last year. Why would be want
     to play with the Steelheads this year, a brand new team that included at least one very inexperienced ballplayer?
    “I can't believe that Don would take that job,” he said. “He likes action, competition. You don't get any of that handling
     equipment or keeping score.”
    “It's Coach Stag,” said Larry. “There's something about him and his strong will to have a winning team that really got to
     us.”
    “That must be it,” agreed Kim. “He's got everybody really believing that.”
    “Right,” said Larry.
    After batting practice, Kim was amused to see Don picking up the bats and balls, and dumping them into a green canvas bag,
     while the infielders followed Coach Stag to the blue car behind the third-base bleachers to get their uniforms.
    “Hurry up, Don!” Larry called to the manager. “Or you won't be getting a uniform!”
    “That's what you think!” Don answered.
    Kim and Larry left the