Congratulations !
You have been awarded points.
Thank you for !
- Story Listed as: Fiction For Kids
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Childhood / Youth
- Published: 11/20/2016
The hometown crowd roared and chanted, “Charlie . . . Charlie . . . Charlie . . .”
An announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker, “It’s the bottom of the ninth, and the score is tied. Number twelve, McFarley is up to bat. If he brings in this run, The Cannonball’s will win the Minor League Baseball Championship for the first time in the history of the town of Carney.”
Charlie McFarley stepped up to the plate. With sweaty palms, he raised the bat. He was scared. His teammates said that Charlie was the worst player on the team. This was his chance to show them what a great baseball player he really was.
Silence filled the stadium as the pitcher from the Hopewell Honeybees, wound up and threw the ball.
Charlie swung and missed.
The ump called, “Strike one!”
The Hopewell crowd cheered and hollered, “Strike him out, pitcher. Strike him out!”
The folks from the town of Carney, chanted, “Let’s go Charlie, let’s go . . .”
Charlie pulled his blue and white cap lower, against the glare of the hot summer sun, and raised his bat high. The pitcher threw a knuckle ball, and Charlie swung as the ball rushed by him and into the catcher’s mitt..
“Strike two!”
The Hopewell crowd cheered. “Way to go pitcher!”
“It was a ball, not a strike,” the Carney folks yelled. “That ump needs glasses!”
The loudspeaker thundered, “McFarley has one more chance to bring in the winning run. Can he do it?”
Charlie could feel the eyes of the crowd on his back. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, and adjusted the bat over his left shoulder, just the way Coach had taught him. He waited for the pitch, and . . .
Bethany shook Charlie’s bed. “Get up little brother. Mom says if you’re not downstairs in five minutes you’ll miss breakfast and be late for school, too.”
Charlie opened one eye. “Go away,” he said, pulling the covers up over his head.
He didn’t want to wake up. The smell of sweat and hotdogs, still hung in the air. Charlie could still feel the eyes of the crowd on his back as he raised the bat to bring in the final home run.
“Charlie,” Bethany said again, pulling the covers off of his face, “get up.”
With a groan, Charlie opened his eyes. “I was just about to hit the winning run, in my dream,” he told Bethany, “Now I’ll never know if I did or not. Rats!”
Charlie Up To Bat(Bea Good)
The hometown crowd roared and chanted, “Charlie . . . Charlie . . . Charlie . . .”
An announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker, “It’s the bottom of the ninth, and the score is tied. Number twelve, McFarley is up to bat. If he brings in this run, The Cannonball’s will win the Minor League Baseball Championship for the first time in the history of the town of Carney.”
Charlie McFarley stepped up to the plate. With sweaty palms, he raised the bat. He was scared. His teammates said that Charlie was the worst player on the team. This was his chance to show them what a great baseball player he really was.
Silence filled the stadium as the pitcher from the Hopewell Honeybees, wound up and threw the ball.
Charlie swung and missed.
The ump called, “Strike one!”
The Hopewell crowd cheered and hollered, “Strike him out, pitcher. Strike him out!”
The folks from the town of Carney, chanted, “Let’s go Charlie, let’s go . . .”
Charlie pulled his blue and white cap lower, against the glare of the hot summer sun, and raised his bat high. The pitcher threw a knuckle ball, and Charlie swung as the ball rushed by him and into the catcher’s mitt..
“Strike two!”
The Hopewell crowd cheered. “Way to go pitcher!”
“It was a ball, not a strike,” the Carney folks yelled. “That ump needs glasses!”
The loudspeaker thundered, “McFarley has one more chance to bring in the winning run. Can he do it?”
Charlie could feel the eyes of the crowd on his back. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, and adjusted the bat over his left shoulder, just the way Coach had taught him. He waited for the pitch, and . . .
Bethany shook Charlie’s bed. “Get up little brother. Mom says if you’re not downstairs in five minutes you’ll miss breakfast and be late for school, too.”
Charlie opened one eye. “Go away,” he said, pulling the covers up over his head.
He didn’t want to wake up. The smell of sweat and hotdogs, still hung in the air. Charlie could still feel the eyes of the crowd on his back as he raised the bat to bring in the final home run.
“Charlie,” Bethany said again, pulling the covers off of his face, “get up.”
With a groan, Charlie opened his eyes. “I was just about to hit the winning run, in my dream,” he told Bethany, “Now I’ll never know if I did or not. Rats!”
- Share this story on
- 4
COMMENTS (5)