Kristy at Bat Read online

  “Um, Watson?” I asked. “Are you changing or not?”

  “I may never change,” said Watson. “Can’t you just see me showing up at a meeting in this uniform?” He gazed down proudly at the grass stains on his belly. “This uniform tells a story,” he said, pointing to the stain. “Remember when I dove for that grounder to start off the double play?”

  “I sure do,” I said. It was great to see Watson so happy. And it was nice to know we’d have new memories to share. I realized then that I didn’t have to worry about being disloyal to Watson when I thought about my dad. Sure, baseball makes me remember my dad — but now it will make me think of Watson too. I relived that double play in my mind, enjoying the image.

  “Kristy?” asked Watson. “Come in, Kristy!” He was waving a hand in front of my face.

  “What?” I asked. “Are you ready to head over to the dining room?” I’d given up trying to convince him to change out of his uniform.

  “You bet,” he said. He stood up, walked to the dresser, and scooped up all his Bill Bain memorabilia. “And look what I’m bringing with me.”

  “Excellent,” I said. Bill Bain had mentioned at the end of the game that he and the other coaches would have tables set up to sell and sign memorabilia that night. After the signing session, we’d have dinner, and after that awards would be given out.

  When we arrived at the dining room, I had to smile. Watson wasn’t the only camper still wearing his uniform. A lot of the dads were, and even a few of the daughters. Bill Bain was still wearing his coach’s uniform too.

  He sat at a long table that held all sorts of merchandise with the camp logo on it, as well as balls and bats and framed pictures of himself back in his glory days. Gloria was sitting at the next table, and Matt had a spot too.

  Watson made a beeline for Bill Bain’s table, pulling me along with him. When the old ballplayer saw him coming, he grinned and waved. “There’s the man that slammed that triple into right field,” he called out. Then he realized that Watson and I were together. “Oh-oh!” he said jovially. “So the home-run hitter is with you. Well, congratulations. Nobody’s told me off like that since my aunt Gladys died.” He chuckled.

  Watson was beaming. “Kristy’s a great kid,” he said. “I’m proud of her.”

  I blushed.

  “That was a heck of a homer today,” said Bill Bain.

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  “Listen,” said Bill Bain. “I’d like to give you folks something to remember me by.” He stood up and rummaged through the stuff on his table. “Let’s see,” he said. “Ah, here we go. A picture of me with Joe DiMaggio. How about that?”

  Watson looked as if he were about to pass out.

  “I think he signed it for me,” said Bill Bain, looking over the picture. “Yup, right there. I’ll sign it too.” He sat down and picked up a pen.

  Watson finally recovered enough to squawk out a “thank you.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s really nice of you. We’ll treasure it.”

  He shrugged. “It’s the least I could do,” he said. He looked up at Watson. “How about keeping me company for a while?” he asked, patting the empty seat next to him.

  Watson opened his mouth, closed it again, and nodded. He was speechless with happiness. He walked around the table and sat down next to Bill Bain. Another camper asked for an autograph then, and I leaned over to whisper to Watson. “Don’t forget to have your things signed,” I said, gesturing at the bag he was carrying. “And can you make sure to have a card signed for David Michael?”

  Watson nodded. “I will. And I won’t. Forget, I mean.” He grinned at me. Then he sighed with contentment and turned back to his hero.

  I decided to chat with Gloria for a while. Vicki was already sitting with her, and I joined them. “Hey, you did great today,” I told Vicki. “Maybe you have a future in baseball after all.”

  “Maybe,” she said doubtfully.

  “Or maybe you’ll find something else you really love to do,” put in Gloria. “That’s all that matters. Whether you’re a star or just a beginner, the main thing is that you love what you do.”

  She was right. “Thanks for reminding me of that,” I said. “I’ve been kind of bummed out because I was put on the second-string team for softball this season.” It felt good to confess that. I’d been keeping it inside all week. “But I’ve realized that it doesn’t really matter. I’ll be playing ball every day, and that makes me happy.”

  “Good for you, honey,” said Gloria, patting me on the arm. “I know how much it can hurt when someone tells you you’re not the best. It happened to me plenty over the course of my career. But I just hung in there and kept playing. And I had a blast!”

  We talked for a while longer, and I asked Gloria and Matt to sign cards for David Michael. He was going to be the hit of the collector’s club. Then it was time to eat. We sat at our regular table and pigged out on steak and baked potatoes and Caesar salads. Dessert that night was a gigantic cake in the shape of a baseball diamond. Two waiters carried it out of the kitchen and marched it around the dining room before they cut it up and served it.

  When the dinner things were cleared away, Bill Bain stepped up to the podium. “I just want to say that you are the best group of campers ever!” he said. We burst into applause and whistles. Watson, next to me, was stomping his feet. Bill Bain held up his hands. “We have certificates for each of you along with some other things. Come on up when we call your name, and we’ll hand them out.”

  One by one, each of us was called to the front to receive our certificate, as well as an autographed baseball, a Dream Camp travel mug, a set of photos from our session, and a copy of the video of that day’s game. The tape also included highlights from the week, according to Bill Bain.

  “Too bad it probably doesn’t show you telling him off,” Vicki whispered to me as we waited to hear our names called. “That was definitely a highlight!”

  I laughed. I, for one, couldn’t wait to watch my video back in Stoneybrook and see the home run I’d hit.

  After everyone had received their certificates (I WAS A STAR AT DREAM CAMP, they read), Bill Bain turned over the microphone to Gloria for the awards ceremony.

  “We had so many great campers here this week,” she began. “Each of you deserves an award. You all worked hard and played hard, and I know you’re going to take home some fabulous memories.” She paused. “But we do like to recognize a few campers for their special contributions, or for improvements they’ve made over the week.” She smiled at Matt and gestured for him to bring the box of trophies to the front. “Matt’s going to help me hand these out,” she said.

  She pulled an envelope out of her purse. “The envelope, please,” she said, as if she were at the Oscars. Everybody laughed. She opened the envelope and began to read. “We’ll start with Most Improved Camper,” she said. “That goes to one of my favorite players, Vicki Sahadevan.”

  We all applauded as Vicki, blushing, went to the podium. Gloria hugged her, and Matt handed her a trophy. “You worked hard, honey,” said Gloria. “Congratulations.”

  Vicki came back to the table, grinning. Her dad jumped up to give her a huge hug. But I noticed he didn’t say anything about how this meant she was destined to play baseball.

  Gloria and Matt, along with the coaches from the Red Team, handed out other awards, some of them funny ones such as “Most Memorable Fumble,” and “Cleanest Uniform.” Then it was time for the last award, Camper of the Week. I knew I didn’t have a chance at winning it, even with my last-minute homer. Still, it would have been nice to win something.

  Sure enough, the award went to a girl on the Red Devils. Oh, well. Watson hadn’t won anything either, and he didn’t seem to mind at all. He was still in seventh heaven about the time he’d spent with his hero.

  Speaking of whom … Bill Bain was approaching the podium again. “We do have one last award,” he said, bending down to speak into the microphone. “A special one th
at we’ve never given out before. But the staff came to me with a request. We’d like to announce a new award, for Best Coach.”

  I expected him to turn to Matt or Gloria and surprise them with a trophy. Instead, Gloria leaned into the mike and called out my name. “Kristy Thomas, come on up here.”

  I was shocked. And thrilled. As I approached the podium, Matt and Gloria took turns at the mike, talking about how much I’d helped them at practices each day, how I’d taken time to show other players how to do the drills, how I’d been a whiz at organizing my teammates. “Kristy showed a real team spirit this week,” said Gloria. “We felt very lucky to have her here.”

  She hugged me and handed me the trophy. Suddenly, I realized that being the best ball-player in the world was not that important to me. Maybe I’d never be in the major leagues, or even anything better than second string at SMS. But I knew I’d be able to pass on my love of the game. As a coach, I could help produce players who would make it to first string — and even the majors.

  The applause that filled the room made it seem as if all my fellow campers agreed with me. As I stood there drinking it in, clutching my trophy, I knew I would never forget Dream Camp.

  * * *

  Dear Reader,

  In Kristy at Bat, Kristy feels insecure about sports for the first time in her life. She’s used to being the best on any team, and now she finds that she has to work harder to excel.

  I’m afraid I can’t sympathize with Kristy at all. I’ve never been interested in sports, and I don’t enjoy playing any sport. Like Mallory, gym class was the bane of my existence. I dreaded each new unit we began. I was happy when I woke up on the days when I didn’t have gym class, and heaved a great sigh of relief each time another class ended. Needless to say, I never went out for after-school sports, although I did enjoy going to an occasional high school football game.

  This doesn’t mean that exercise isn’t important to me. It’s actually one of the more important parts of my life, and I find that if I don’t exercise every day, I don’t feel very healthy. My favorite way to exercise is to take a two-mile walk with my dog, Sadie. While we walk, I listen to books on tape, and Sadie chases squirrels.

  However, even though I don’t enjoy playing sports, I think they’re a great way to get involved, to exercise, to spend time with friends, and to challenge yourself. The most important thing to keep in mind about sports is that they should be fun, which is what Kristy realizes by the end of Kristy at Bat. So whether you enjoy softball, soccer, football, or just taking a walk, take the time to get out there, exercise, and have fun!

  Happy reading,

  * * *

  The author gratefully acknowledges

  Ellen Miles

  for her help in

  preparing this manuscript.

  About the Author

  ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.

  There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.) In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.

  Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.

  Copyright © 1999 by Ann M. Martin

  Cover art by Hodges Soileau

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First edition, April 1999

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-87480-9