Two Strikes on Johnny by Matt Christopher Page B

on the Cardinals' bench groaned.
    The next pitch was high again. Peter walked.
    Stevie Little hit a pop fly to second, then Buddy Greenfield pounded a line drive to left field. The fielder caught the ball
     on the first hop, threw it to third. Peter dashed to second.
    Marty French took off his equipment and picked up a bat. His pumpkin-round face and his clothes were covered with sweat and
     dirt. He was grinning.
    “Watch me,” he said. “I'll murder that ball. I'll plunk it out into that next cow pasture.”
    He took the first pitch for a calledstrike. Then he swung at a pitch and hit it Solid. The ball climbed high into the air, sailed over the center fielder's head.
     The Cardinals jumped off the bench and yelled as Marty rounded first, then second, then third.
    “Run! Run!” shouted the coach at third.
    “Faster, Marty! Faster!”
    Marty puffed like a tired engine going uphill as he raced for home.
    “Where's my bicycle?” he shouted.
    Everybody laughed. The Mudhens' third baseman caught the throw-in, turned, and whipped the ball to the catcher.
    “Slide, Marty! Slide!” somebody yelled.
    Marty slid. The catcher tagged him, but not in time.
    “Safe!” shouted the umpire.
    Marty climbed to his feet, walked outof the cloud of dust, and shook his head.
    “That was lucky,” he said. “I told you I should have had my bicycle!”
    Johnny Doane smiled. Marty made everybody feel like smiling. He was always cracking jokes. He couldn't run fast, because he
     had a lot of weight to carry. But he could hit. Johnny wished he could hit like Marty. Then he would not have to tell those
     little white lies to Michael.
    Oh, he didn't
want
to tell Michael those white lies. Not really. But Michael was sure that Johnny was a good hitter. After each game Johnny
     kept telling him how well he had hit the ball, and Michael believed him. Now Michael thought that Johnny was the best hitter
     on the team.
    How far from the truth that was!
    Marty's home run had scored Peter and Buddy, which made the score 4–3 in favorof the Cardinals. There were two outs and nobody on base.
    Pitcher Davie Randall came to bat and hit a line drive to short. The shortstop caught it, ending the inning.
    The Mudhens knocked in two runs in their top of the fourth inning.
    First baseman Freddie Turner led off for the Cardinals at their turn at bat and singled with a grounder between first and
     second. Butchie Long made first on an error by the Mudhens' shortstop. Freddie stopped on second.
    With men on first and second and none out, Johnny Doane came to bat. His teammates started to cheer for him again and he could
     hear Mr. Greenfield telling him just to meet the ball, not kill it. Mr. Green field, of course, meant for him not to swing
     too hard.
    But how could a guy hit a ball way out into the field if he didn't swing hard?
    Johnny let the first pitch go by.
    “Ball one!” said the ump.
    The next pitch was going to cut the heart of the plate. Johnny swung hard. Swish!
    “Strike!” said the ump.
    Johnny wished that there weren't men on bases. Maybe he could hit if the bases were empty.
    Johnny swung again. Tick! A foul tip to the catcher. Strike two.
    The next pitch was wild. The ball sailed over the catcher's head, hit the backstop screen. Both runners advanced one base
     each.
    The count now was two and two. Johnny waited. Maybe he would walk. The bases would then be loaded. ButMickey Bonzell was up next. And Mickey was a poor hitter, too.
    The pitch came in. Johnny stepped into it, took his bat off his shoulder. The ball was high. He didn't swing.
    “Ball three!” yelled the ump.
    Three and two. Johnny was nervous. The next pitch was the one that counted. He hoped it would be a ball.
    The ball zipped in. Johnny saw it coming nicely toward the plate. He gripped his bat hard, stepped into the pitch, and swung.
    Crack! The ball bounded to the pitcher, struck the tip of his glove, and rolled toward first! The pitcher scampered after
     it.
    Johnny