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Authors: David A. Kelly
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POWDER
Rocketing to the Top
Before Big D could respond, Sparky grabbed the bottle from Mike’s hand.
“Itching powder!” Sparky read the words aloud. He flipped the bottle open and tipped it upside down. “Empty. Well, I’ll be …”
Sparky squinted down at Mike. Wisps of white wiry hair poked out from under the edge of his baseball cap. “Where’d you get this, son?”
“I found it in the trash can in the lockerroom,” Mike said. “Right next to the door.”
“Hmph,” Sparky snorted. He snapped around and stamped to the edge of the dugout where Josh stood. Sparky fixed his eyes on Josh. He held up the empty bottle.
“Robinson, I was warned about your practical jokes,” Sparky said. “Don’t pull any more. Have all the fun you want with your regular team. I’m here to win the all-star game for the American League, and I’m going to do it with you or without you.”
Josh took a step back. “Whoa! Coach, I—I didn’t have anything to do with that!” he sputtered. “Everyone knows that I like practical jokes. But I don’t know anything about that itching powder.”
Sparky scowled and pointed a finger at Josh. “I won’t tolerate any jokes on my team,” he said. He slipped the bottle into his pocketand tramped down the stairs into the clubhouse. Still scratching his hip, Big D headed for the showers to wash off the itching powder.
Andy pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand. “That’s not fair,” he said to Mike and Kate. “My dad didn’t do it!”
“Nice job getting on the good side of our manager, Josh,” said one of the other players.
“That’s Robert ‘Rocket’ Richards, from the Toronto Blue Jays,” Andy whispered to Kate and Mike. “He and my dad are the two catchers for the American League team. But the Rocket
is
a better hitter.”
“Hey, Josh. Since you’re such an expert on itching powder, what do sheep use to scratch an itch?” the Rocket taunted Andy’s dad.
Josh grimaced and shook his head. “I don’t know, Rocket. What?”
The Rocket smiled. “A
lamb
post!” he said. “Get it? Instead of a lamppost. A lamb post!”
Josh rolled his eyes. “Oh brother! I don’t need this,” he said. “I’m going to check my equipment.” He headed down the stairs to the clubhouse.
“Aww, you’re just sore because you onlyhit three home runs in round one, and I hit eleven!” the Rocket gloated. “Looks like I’ll be moving on to the finals and you won’t!”
Just then, a man with a jutting chin, slicked-back black hair, and a fancy white suit brushed by Mike. He strode up to the Rocket and whispered something in his ear.
Kate tugged Mike’s sleeve. She headed down the baseline. “Hey, guys, they’re starting the final round,” Kate said. “It’s the Rocket versus Troy Young from the Colorado Rockies.” She plopped down on the grass near third base. Andy and Mike sat down, too, stretching out their legs and resting back on their hands.
Troy Young went first. Mike, Kate, and Andy watched as he hit five more home runs. Young’s total for the three rounds was twenty-six. That meant the Rocket needed six home runs to win.
As he walked back to the dugout, Young took off his hat and waved to the cheering fans. At the same time, the Rocket approached the plate. He stared out at the fountains in left field. He took a few practice swings and waited for the pitcher. The Rocket was all business.
Kate plucked a short piece of grass and stuck it in her mouth. “I don’t know,” she said. “There’s something about him that I don’t like.”
The Rocket’s first four hits were pop-ups. Then pitch after pitch, he waited patiently. Finally, he unloaded and hit four home runs in a row! The crowd went wild! He let two more pitches fly by and homered the next two.
The Rocket had won the home run derby! And he still had six more outs to go! A chant of “Rock-et, Rock-et, Rock-et” started. He smiled for a moment, waved his right handfor quiet,
Rocketing to the Top
Before Big D could respond, Sparky grabbed the bottle from Mike’s hand.
“Itching powder!” Sparky read the words aloud. He flipped the bottle open and tipped it upside down. “Empty. Well, I’ll be …”
Sparky squinted down at Mike. Wisps of white wiry hair poked out from under the edge of his baseball cap. “Where’d you get this, son?”
“I found it in the trash can in the lockerroom,” Mike said. “Right next to the door.”
“Hmph,” Sparky snorted. He snapped around and stamped to the edge of the dugout where Josh stood. Sparky fixed his eyes on Josh. He held up the empty bottle.
“Robinson, I was warned about your practical jokes,” Sparky said. “Don’t pull any more. Have all the fun you want with your regular team. I’m here to win the all-star game for the American League, and I’m going to do it with you or without you.”
Josh took a step back. “Whoa! Coach, I—I didn’t have anything to do with that!” he sputtered. “Everyone knows that I like practical jokes. But I don’t know anything about that itching powder.”
Sparky scowled and pointed a finger at Josh. “I won’t tolerate any jokes on my team,” he said. He slipped the bottle into his pocketand tramped down the stairs into the clubhouse. Still scratching his hip, Big D headed for the showers to wash off the itching powder.
Andy pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand. “That’s not fair,” he said to Mike and Kate. “My dad didn’t do it!”
“Nice job getting on the good side of our manager, Josh,” said one of the other players.
“That’s Robert ‘Rocket’ Richards, from the Toronto Blue Jays,” Andy whispered to Kate and Mike. “He and my dad are the two catchers for the American League team. But the Rocket
is
a better hitter.”
“Hey, Josh. Since you’re such an expert on itching powder, what do sheep use to scratch an itch?” the Rocket taunted Andy’s dad.
Josh grimaced and shook his head. “I don’t know, Rocket. What?”
The Rocket smiled. “A
lamb
post!” he said. “Get it? Instead of a lamppost. A lamb post!”
Josh rolled his eyes. “Oh brother! I don’t need this,” he said. “I’m going to check my equipment.” He headed down the stairs to the clubhouse.
“Aww, you’re just sore because you onlyhit three home runs in round one, and I hit eleven!” the Rocket gloated. “Looks like I’ll be moving on to the finals and you won’t!”
Just then, a man with a jutting chin, slicked-back black hair, and a fancy white suit brushed by Mike. He strode up to the Rocket and whispered something in his ear.
Kate tugged Mike’s sleeve. She headed down the baseline. “Hey, guys, they’re starting the final round,” Kate said. “It’s the Rocket versus Troy Young from the Colorado Rockies.” She plopped down on the grass near third base. Andy and Mike sat down, too, stretching out their legs and resting back on their hands.
Troy Young went first. Mike, Kate, and Andy watched as he hit five more home runs. Young’s total for the three rounds was twenty-six. That meant the Rocket needed six home runs to win.
As he walked back to the dugout, Young took off his hat and waved to the cheering fans. At the same time, the Rocket approached the plate. He stared out at the fountains in left field. He took a few practice swings and waited for the pitcher. The Rocket was all business.
Kate plucked a short piece of grass and stuck it in her mouth. “I don’t know,” she said. “There’s something about him that I don’t like.”
The Rocket’s first four hits were pop-ups. Then pitch after pitch, he waited patiently. Finally, he unloaded and hit four home runs in a row! The crowd went wild! He let two more pitches fly by and homered the next two.
The Rocket had won the home run derby! And he still had six more outs to go! A chant of “Rock-et, Rock-et, Rock-et” started. He smiled for a moment, waved his right handfor quiet,
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