Read Online Roberto & Me by Dan Gutman - Free Book Online

had to run on a ground ball.
    â€œWhat if he doesn’t want to run?” she asked.
    â€œHe has to,” I told her.
    â€œWell, that doesn’t seem very nice,” she said.
    â€œNow batting for Pittsburgh…” said the public address announcer, “…the left fielder…Willie Stargell!”
    I had heard of Stargell. He was a great left-handed power hitter. They called him Pops. He’s in the Baseball Hall of Fame.
    As Stargell stepped up to the plate, I noticed number 21 step out of the Pirate dugout.
    â€œLook! That’s him,” I said, pointing toward the on-deck circle.
    â€œWho?” Sunrise asked.
    â€œRoberto Clemente.”
    We were pretty far away. I squinted to see Clemente.
    â€œWhy does he have to kneel in that circle?” Sunrise asked. “Is he being punished?”
    â€œIt’s called the on-deck circle,” I told her. “He’s on deck.”
    â€œLike, on a boat?” she asked.
    Willie Stargell took ball one and ball two, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Clemente. He was kneeling, with three bats leaning against his thigh. One by one, he carefully picked them up as if they were fine china and wiped them off with a rag. Then he hefted each bat before deciding which one he felt like using.
    I barely noticed when Willie Stargell sliced a wicked line drive in the gap between left and centerfield. Jose Pagan, the runner on first base, got a good jump. The ball took a tricky hop off the wall; and by the time the Reds got it in, Pagan was digging for the plate. The Cincinnati shortstop took the relay and rifled a throw home. It was close, but the catcherslapped the tag on Pagan just before his foot touched the plate. The fans roared their approval. Stargell pulled into second with a double. Sunrise probably had no idea what was happening, but she got into the spirit and clapped her hands excitedly.
    â€œNow batting for Pittsburgh…” the public address announcer said, “…the rightfielder…Roberto Clemente!”

11
The Wild Colt
    CLEMENTE WAS LIKE A DOT TO MY EYES AS I STRAINED TO see him from the upper deck. I wanted to get a better look at him.
    â€œHey,” I said to Sunrise, “let’s sneak down to the box seats!”
    â€œIs that legal?” she asked.
    â€œIt’s like jaywalking,” I told her.
    I grabbed her hand and hustled her down the steps until we reached the lower boxes. There were a few security guards posted in the middle; but they were old guys and it didn’t look like they were paying much attention. I scanned the crowd, looking for empty seats close to the field.
    â€œI’m afraid we’re going to get caught,” Sunrise said as I pulled her along.
    â€œJust act casual,” I whispered. “Pretend you belong here.”
    Crosley Field was about half full—or half empty, depending on how you look at it. There were plenty of open seats, but most of them were in the upper deck. Finally, I spotted a few seats in the third row, near first base. We rushed over there.
    â€œWhat if the people who have these seats show up?” Sunrise asked.
    â€œThey won’t,” I said, pulling her down into the seat next to mine. “It’s the third inning. If they’re not here by now, they’re not coming.”
    Fortunately, Clemente was not one of those guys who rushed up to home plate. So we didn’t miss a thing. When Sunrise and I sat down, he was still on his way to home plate, walking slowly, deliberately, like an old man. If I was the pitcher, I would be impatient. I glanced at Willie Stargell, the runner on second.
    Once he was in the batter’s box, Clemente wasn’t anywhere near being ready to hit. First he rotated his head and neck from side to side and then twisted it back like he was doing exercises. He didn’t look like he was very comfortable.
    Clemente held one arm up to let the umpire know he still wasn’t ready.