Ann Martin - Kristy And The Walking Disaster

I told Jackie about my softball team. Jackie's face lit up like candles on a birthday cake. I kind of wished Watson could have seen that smile.

That night I got some interesting phone calls.

The first was from Jessi Ramsey. "Guess what," she said. "Matt Braddock wants to be on your team."

"Great!" I exclaimed. Matt's a terrific kid and a terrific ball player - but he was born deaf. He can't hear or speak. You have to communicate with him using sign language. Luckily, a lot of the kids in Stoneybrook learned some sign language after they met Matt, so this isn't much of a problem.

Then Mallory called. "I talked to my brothers and sisters. Nicky, Claire, and Margo want to be on your team," she said. "I tried to talk Vanessa into it, but she's not interested. And the triplets are in Little League."

Next to call was Dawn, saying that two of the three Barrett kids she often sits for were interested, plus three friends of theirs (whom I didn't know).

The last call was from Claudia. "I haven't found a single kid for your team," she wailed.

"Don't worry about it," I told her. "I've got twenty already."

"Wow!"

"Yeah."

It was time for a planning session with Watson.

Chapter 6.

Boy. I did not have any idea what I was getting myself into when I decided to coach a softball team, even after I talked to Watson. It seemed like such a nice thing to do - organize a team for kids who were too embarrassed or too young to be in Little League or to play T-ball. Well, it was a nice thing. I knew that. And Watson knew that, which was why he was so encouraging. But it was also . . . Well, you'll see what happened.

Anyway, as soon as I found out that twenty kids wanted to be on my team, I got to work. First, I made a few lists. The Baby-sitters Club is always doing this, and it's very helpful. One list, the most important, was of the names and ages of the kids on the team, and their special problems. It looked like this:

I looked at my list. I did a little math. The average age of my team was 5.8 years - just under six. These were young kids. Of course, if they were older, they'd have joined Little League. Well, some of them would have.

Then I made a list of questions to answer:

A zillion phone calls later, Watson and I had found answers to all but the last question. Thanks to Watson, we got permission to meet at the playground of Stoneybrook Elementary School. This was convenient since a lot of the kids lived nearby. We would meet on Tuesdays after school, and on Saturday afternoons.

Some of the club members volunteered to help me. Some of them also sounded pretty uncertain. For instance, Jessi said, "I'm a dancer, not an athlete. I barely know the difference between a football and a baseball." And Claudia said flat out, "I hate sports . . . but I'll help you." Mary Anne and Dawn were more helpful, and said, "We don't know much about sports, but we love the idea of your team. Just tell us how to help." Mallory was pure help: "I've lived with Little League for two seasons now. I know all there is to know about kids and ball games. I'll do anything - except watch Claire have a tantrum."

Tantrum? Uh-oh.

The purpose of the team? Watson and I talked about that for a long time, and Watson

did not say one jerky thing. We agreed that the purpose of the team was the reason I'd started it - to coach kids who wanted to improve their playing skills, but more importantly, just to have fun. I figured I could put the twenty kids on two sides each time we met, and we could have a game - after coaching. Coaching first, 1 decided, then a game. Maybe just a seven-inning game, or an even shorter one. Coaching (and I promised myself I would never lose my temper with any kid, no matter what) followed by a game should be a lot of fun.

Does Bart think I'm cute? Well, how would I know? Maybe the better question was, Had Bart thought I was cute? I hadn't seen him since I'd walked Shannon over to his house. And I'd probably never see him again, considering we went to different schools and had different friends. I tried to put Bart and my Gigantic Crush out of my mind.

That was not too difficult. On Saturday afternoon, we held our first team meeting. Every single kid showed up! So did Dawn and Mallory.

"Where'd you get all that equipment?" Dawn asked me in awe, as she looked at the things surrounding me - four bats, five mitts, a

catcher's mask, a softball, and a wiffle ball (for Gabble).

"Oh, it's all ours. With six kids in your family," (1 count Andrew and Karen as part of my family, of course), "two of whom are guys in high school, you'd be surprised at what accumulates. Some of it's mine. The only thing we're low on is balls. All Sam and Charlie have are hardballs, and I couldn't find any tennis balls."

The twenty kids gathered around me eagerly. We were standing at the edge of the blacktopped part of the playground, near a four-square court. I saw that a few parents had come along, and I began to feel nervous. I felt like a teacher on her first day at school when some parents have stuck around to see how good she is. One of the mothers was Mrs. Braddock, and I knew she was just there to translate everything I said into sign language for Matt, but still. . . .

The kids were looking at me expectantly. I edged away from the blacktop and said, "Let's sit down. I want to talk to you for a few minutes."

The kids plopped down in the grass. Dawn and Mallory sat on either side of me. The parents hovered in the background (except for Mrs. Braddock).

"First," I said, "I just want to introduce myself to the three kids I don't know, the Barretts' friends." It was easy to spot them in the crowd. They were the only faces I didn't recognize.

I pointed to the oldest-looking one. "You must be Buddy's friend," I said. "I'm Kristy Thomas."

The boy nodded. "I'm Jacob Kuhn, but call me Jake. I'm eight," he added.

The other Kuhns turned out to be Laurel, who was six and so shy that Jake had to say her name and age for her, and Patsy, who was five, Suzi Barrett's friend.

"Well," I said, "I want you guys to know that we're here to play softball, but mostly we're here to have fun. I'm going to coach you and teach you skills during the first part of each afternoon, and then we'll divide into two teams and play a game. If you think you're not a good player, don't worry about it. There's no pressure here. This is just fun. Got it?"

I saw a few eyes light up, Jackie's among them.

David Michael raised his hand, just as if he were in school. "I'm a klutz," he said.

"I don't care," I replied. "Everybody here is good at some things and not so good at others."

Jamie Newton raised his hand. "I'm afraid of the ball," he admitted.

"I can never hit it," Claire Pike announced.

"Then those are the things we'll work on," I said, smiling. "Now. How many of you are friends with Matt Braddock?"

A few hands went up, including the Barretts' and the Pikes'.

"Matt is deaf," I explained to the others. "He can't hear and he doesn't talk. But I'll tell you something. He is one super ball player." (Matt beamed when his mother signed that to him.)

My stepsister Karen raised her hand. "We can talk to him, though," she informed everyone. "We can talk to him in his secret sign language, just like his mother is doing now."

"That's right," I agreed. "I'll show you the signs you need to know to play ball with Matt."

"I already know them!" said Nicky Pike proudly.

"Me too," said Buddy Barrett.

"Great. Now today, instead of having a practice first, I think we should just hold a game. I haven't seen many of you play, and - "

"Wait!" cried Jackie. "Don't we need a team

name? If we're going to be a ball team, we need a name like the Mets or the Dodgers or the Red Sox."

"Yeah!" cried all the kids.