hitter, fans! In the all-important second inning, it's a no-
hitter for Tiburcio Delasantos!"
Boley swallowed and stared hard at the scoreboard,
which seemed to show a score of 14-9, their favor. His
teammates were going wild with excitement, and so was
the crowd of players, umpires, cameramen and announcers
watching the game. He tapped the shoulder of the man
next to him.
"Excuse me. What's the score?"
"Dig that Tiburcio!" cried the man. "What a first-string
defensive pitcher against left-handers he is!"
"The score. Could you tell me what it is?"
"Fourteen to nine. Did you see that"
Boley begged, "Please, didn't somebody just say it was
a no-hitter?"
"Why, sure." The man explained: "The inning. It's a
no-hit inning." And he looked queerly at Boley.
It was all like that, except that some of it was worse.
After three innings Boley was staring glassy-eyed into
space. He dimly noticed that both teams were trotting off
the field and what looked like a whole new corps of play-
ers were warming up when Manager MagiU stopped in
' front of him. "You'll be playing in a minute," Magill said
kindly.
"Isn't the game over?" Boley gestured toward the field.
"Over? Of course not. It's the third-inning stretch,"
Magill told him. "Ten minutes for the lawyers to file their
motions and make their appeals. You know." He laughed
condescendingly. "They tried to get an injunction against
the bases-loaded pitchout. Imagine!"
"Hah-hah," Boley echoed. "Mister Magill, can I go
home?"
"Nonsense, boy! Didn't you hear me? You're on as
soon as the lawyers come off the field!"
Well, that began to make sense to Boley and he
actually perked up a little. When the minutes had passed
and Magill took him by the hand he began to feel almost
cheerful again. He picked up the rosin bag and flexed his
fingers and said simply, "Boley's ready."
Because nothing confused Boley when he had a ball or
a bat in his hand. Set him down any time, anywhere, and
he'd hit any pitcher or strike out any batter. He knew
exactly what it was going to be like, once he got on the
playing field.
Only it wasn't like that at all.
Boley's team was at bat, and the first man up got on
with a bunt single. Anywa-y, they said it was a bunt single.
To Boley it had seemed as though the enemy pitcher had
charged beautifully off. the mound, fielded the ball with
machine-like precision and flipped it to the first-base
