Phillip looked down at Henry and his other Pizza House Brave teammates sitting on the dugout bench. "I don't just happen to have a saw with me, stupid. I told you that I figured out what they were doing. In the second half of the season, the Pharmacy Phillies have hit twice as many home runs per player as they did in the first half. Statistically, that shouldn't happen. So I figured that they must be using bats with cork in them,"

"Why would anyone put a cork in their bat?" Jamien asked Phillip.

"It's not a cork like on a bottle of wine. They drill a long hole into the tube of the fat end of the bat and slide in a piece of cork that looks like a pole. It makes the bat lighter and gives the bat more bounce. Greg Nettles did it in the major leagues. He hit a broken bat single and got caught. He was out and they fined him a lot of money."

"Really?" Harry asked. "But would a fifth grade kid think of doing something like that?"

"I heard about that stuff in the pros," Jay Rogers pitched in. "But maybe they're hitting more home runs because the pitching is getting lousier."

"I thought about that, but I don't think so. Every other team in the league has fewer home runs per game in the second half of the season. I got suspicious when the Pharmacy's hitters stopped using the aluminum bats and began using wood. There had to be a reason."

"Hey!" Coach Higgins's voice boomed as he stood in front of his team. "Pay attention to what's going on! That's three outs. Get out in the field!"

The Braves all picked up their gloves and began to walk out to their positions. Phillip, wondering what to do, stood and looked up at Coach Higgins.

"Not this inning, Phillip. I'll try to get you in next inning."

Big deal, thought Phillip. The coach had to put him in the next inning. The next inning was the fifth and the league rules say that every player must play at least two innings. By making it the last two, Phillip would not even play the field in the bottom of the sixth if his team was behind and didn't come back to at least tie it. Coach Higgins wasn't doing him any favor.

While the Braves were throwing the practice ball around and getting ready to play, Phillip gazed enviously at the four signed Mo Vaughn balls placed carefully on an empty bat bag at the far end of the dugout bench. Cards and Comics Superstore had just had a sale, and four guys on his team had picked up those balls at a great price just before the game. Phillip looked up as the inning started.

Phillip's Pizza House Braves were down by two in the bottom of the fourth. Jack Crawford was pitching for the Braves and doing a pretty good job. The Pharmacy only had one home run so far. Jack was behind 2-and-1 on the count when Stuart Cable of the Pharmacy smashed a grounder to Art Norton at third. Art made a great back-handed stab and threw a strike to Maggie Dwyer at first. Maggie was the only girl on Phillip's team, but she was the tallest player and could catch well, even when the balls were thrown hard. Maggie caught Art's perfect throw, and tossed the ball back to Jack. One out.

In any close game, when the Braves were home, Coach Higgins always waited until the fifth inning to put Phillip in. It wasn't fair. Even though he was probably the worst guy on the team, he wasn't that bad, and he did always show up. Phillip loved baseball, and wished he could play more. Phillip watched the Pharmacy's slugger Tao Ng (pronounced 'No') pick up one of the new wooden bats and swing it as he stepped up to the plate. Tao hadn't hit any homers in the first half of the season, but since using the wooden bats, he had put three over the fences. Phillip knew what lots of the players did this season, even in games that he wasn't playing in. Phillip lived right next to Andrews Field, and three months ago, his mom had had a baby. Since his new baby sister had come home, Phillip's mother was always either too busy or tired to do things, and so Phillip had watched a lot of baseball. He studied his team's pitcher Jack Crawford as Jack looked for the signal from Lars Crump. On the mound, Jack was tall and muscular with a graceful pitching motion. Behind the plate, Lars was pudgy and short but incredibly strong. Jack shook off the first sign from Lars like he usually did. From behind the plate, Lars flashed a different sign, and Jack nodded. Jack wound up and fired. Outside, ball one. The same thing happened the next two pitches. Three balls and no strikes. Phillip wondered whether Mr. Green, the Pharmacy coach, would give Tao the green light. If he did, Phillip hoped that Jack wouldn't give him anything too good. A 3-and-0 meatball to big Tao Ng with a cork-filled bat, well, that meant nothing but trouble.

Phillip wondered how he could test the Pharmacy bats. He had a saber saw in his baseball bag under the dugout bench. Phillip thought that a coach was supposed to file an official complaint to the umpire. No way would Coach Higgins believe Phillip and do that. Coach Higgins didn't have too much respect for Phillip. In an earlier game, against the Firefighters, Phillip had figured out the Firefighters' signals. Phillip had told Coach Higgins that when their coach rubbed his chest and then tipped his cap, the Firefighter hitter would always bunt. The tying run had been on third at the time, and Coach Higgins didn't pull the infield in. Sure enough, the Firefighter did lay down a suicide squeeze bunt and the runner scored when Art Norton couldn't get to the ball soon enough. Even though Art was the best player on the team, he never had a chance on the play. Coach Higgins had never admitted he was wrong in keeping the infield back. In fact, he had seemed mad at Phillip about the whole thing. No way would he now believe Phillip about the corked bat.

Tao stepped out of the batters box and looked towards his coach. The Pharmacy's Mr. Green removed his cap, slowly pushed his hair up off his forehead, and put his cap back on. He rubbed his right shoulder and touched the tip of his cap. Tao nodded and returned to the batters box. Jack looked nervous. He did his full windup and pitched the ball. Tao took a massive cut. Crack! It was such a beautiful swing and such an impressive sound that Phillip forgot for a second that Tao was on the other team. So few kids used wooden bats, and a wooden bat 'cracks' instead of 'pings.' The ball shot off Tao's bat, and everyone in the park instantly knew that it would be a home run. It sailed over the center field fence. Phillip watched in awe as the ball bounced a few times and rolled all the way to the fence of the Babe Ruth diamond on the other side of the park. No one had ever hit a ball that far! The whole Pharmacy team screamed and crowded around home plate to greet Tao with high fives as he completed his home run jog.

It was now or never, Phillip thought. He grabbed the saw out of his bag, and while everyone was focusing on Tao at home plate, Phillip ran out and grabbed Tao's bat and began to saw. Back and forth, back and forth. After about ten strokes, Phillip's arm felt so tired it could hardly move. He looked at the bat. He had barely made a dent in it! He never knew that a wooden bat could be so hard.

"What's going on?" the umpire shouted.

"I challenge the Pharmacy with using cork in their bats," Phillip said with as much authority as he could muster as he wiped sawdust and sweat from the lenses of his black rimmed glasses.

"What?" the umpire asked.

"Huh?" Mr. Green of the Pharmacy uttered.

"What the...," Phillip's coach howled.

"Coach, what's your player doing?" the umpire asked Coach Higgins.

"Believe me, I have no idea, Bill," Phillip's coach said to the umpire.

Phillip continued to try to saw, but he couldn't put any muscle behind it. He was getting nowhere.

"Kid, explain yourself," the umpire said to Phillip.

"I think that they're filling their bats with cork to get more power. If you give me a chance to saw this bat in half, I can prove it to you."

"By the time you saw that bat in half, son, it'll be dark," the umpire responded.

"Please, you have to let me show you," Phillip begged.

The umpire looked towards the Pharmacy's coach. Mr. Green was a nice man and didn't know what to say.

"What do we do, coaches?" the umpire asked them both.

"I had nothing to do with this," Coach Higgins said.

"If one of my players put cork in those bats, it's news to me," Mr. Green said. "We just bought them two weeks ago. Someone stole our old bat bag, and the Pharmacy couldn't afford new aluminum bats, so we bought these wooden ones on sale. That bat is ruined now, so why don't we just finish sawing the darn thing and see for ourselves what's in it."

"Let me see those, son," the umpire said to Phillip as he reached for the bat and saw. The umpire was a very large man with huge muscles. He dwarfed the beanlike Phillip. Both teams were gathered around as the umpire sawed back and forth until the bat was in two pieces.

"Looks like wood to me," the umpire said, handing the sawed off head of the bat to Phillip.

Phillip looked at the bat end.

"Well?" the umpire asked.

"Wood," Phillip whispered.

"What do we do now?" Mr. Green asked the umpire.

"There's nothing in my book governing this situation," the umpire said, taking a small rule book out of his back pocket. "I guess, first, I will fine the Pizza House Braves the cost of the bat. Better yet, I'll make them replace it with an aluminum bat."

"Phillip, you're paying for it," Coach Higgins said. The umpire nodded in agreement.

"Secondly, I am ejecting Phillip from the game for unsportsmanlike conduct," the umpire stated.

"That's not fair," Juan Carlos said. Juan was the Pharmacy's pitcher and team captain. "Phillip Crafts is their worst player. He hasn't played his two innings yet, and it would help their team if he doesn't play. We want him to stay in the game!"

The big, burly umpire looked confused. The kid did have a point, his face seemed to say.

"Just a minute," the umpire said, walking away from the crowd of players and coaches. "Let me look in this book and see if I can find something." The umpire walked to first base and stood there alone flipping through the pages of his palm-sized green book. He stopped, read a little, and flipped some more pages. Once again, he stopped at a page, read carefully, and then returned the rule book to his rear pocket. He walked back to the cluster of people gathered around the plate.

"The rule book says that in cases of serious misconduct, I have the option of either ejecting the player, or forfeiting the whole game. Because I do believe that ejecting the player would actually benefit the team which committed the infraction, then I rule the game to be forfeited. Pharmacy wins."

"What!" Coach Higgins bellowed. "That's not fair! Phillip is barely on this team. He hasn't even played yet! He's more like a spectator than a player!"

Phillip hung his head in shame.

"I've made my ruling, Coach. That's the game."

The Pharmacy players all cheered, and patted Tao on the back.

Phillip was so embarrassed and unhappy that he didn't even look up at his own team. He just grabbed his glove from the bench and ran home.

"Mom, it was terrible," Phillip whimpered.

Phillip's mother, Dara, was frantically pacing back and forth across the living room holding her wailing infant close to her chest.

"You lost, huh?" Dara asked without looking up or missing a stride.

"Worse than that, Mom. Much worse. Boy, I sure did something stupid! They lost the whole game because of me! The team must hate me and think I'm an idiot." Phillip hid his face inside his glove, trying to hold back the tears.

"You'll get better, Phillip. It just takes practice," Dara said to her son over the continued crying of the baby in her arms.

"I didn't make an error or strike out, Mom. It was worse than that. We had to forfeit the game just because of me!"

Dara noticed that Phillip had stopped talking and said, "Mike wants to help you with your game. You should give him a chance. He's quite an athlete."

Mike was Phillip's stepfather. And Mike was very serious about his sports.

"Mom, that won't help. Are you even listening to me? It wasn't my playing. I wish I had just blown a play to lose the game. This was much worse."

"Ooooh, that's all right," Dara almost sang to little Emily. "It's okay. It's just a little pain in your tummy. It'll get better."

"Mom, don't you even want to hear about it?" Phillip asked with pleading eyes.

Little Emily cried even louder.

"Phillip, I'm sorry. This is not a good time. We can talk later. Better yet, ask Mike to work on your game with you so this doesn't happen again. I do hate to see you upset like this." Dara continued pacing with Emily.

"Yeah, later, right," Phillip said under his breath as he got up off the couch and left the room.

Phillip stomped upstairs, stormed into his room, closed the door and lay on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, looking right into the eyes of Tony LaRussa. LaRussa was one of the great baseball managers of the modern era. He was the first to rely on statistical analysis instead of just his gut hunches. Most kids Phillip's age had posters of the great players like Pedro Martinez, Ken Griffey Jr., or Babe Ruth, but Phillip knew that he could never play like those guys. Heck, Phillip would be thrilled just to not be the worst player on his Little League team! But Tony LaRussa was a great baseball mind, and Phillip studied baseball more than anyone he knew. Phillip believed that he could be a great manager someday. When he grew up, he wanted to be the manager of the Boston Red Sox and bring them their first World Series Championship in a very long time. But if that didn't happen, he would be a great detective. When he wasn't playing, watching or reading about baseball, Phillip was reading mysteries. And these past couple months, since Emily had been born, he had done more reading than ever.

Phillip swore that Tony LaRussa was looking right at him. He must be thinking what a dork I am, Phillip thought.

"You're right. I am an idiot," Phillip said to the poster on his ceiling.

LaRussa said nothing. He just continued to stare at Phillip.

"I bet you've never seen anything so stupid. You never would have done anything so dumb, would you?"

LaRussa just looked down at Phillip.

"I didn't think so. You always get all the facts and think before you act. Why didn't I do the same? Of course, there are plenty of reasons why the Pharmacy Phillies would use wooden bats. Why didn't I just ask one of their players? Half the kids on the team go to my school, and three are even in my class! Of course, a stolen bat bag does make sense. But no, I don't think of that. And all those extra home runs. There are a million reasons for that. Maybe they have a good coach who has helped them a lot. When Walt Hriniak became a big league coach, his team's hitting improved overnight. You, of all people, can appreciate the value of a good coach."

Phillip blinked and looked again at the poster. Did Tony LaRussa just smile at him? Impossible. LaRussa was no longer smiling. It was the same stare that he always gave Phillip.

Phillip finally picked up a mystery he had almost finished. It was called The Secret of Tanager Ranch. Phillip read two more chapters before he realized that nothing was sinking in. He was reading the words but not thinking at all about what they meant. All he could think about was a saw and a bat. And the faces of his teammates. He saw their angry faces and heard their laughter. Phillip wished that he had stayed around and faced the guys after the game and gotten it over with. He'd have to do it sometime and he dreaded it. He wanted it over and done with.

Phillip heard the front door open downstairs. It must be Mike coming home from work. He didn't want to face his stepfather. He reached over on his bed, picked up the letter he had gotten from his real father the day before, and began to reread it. After a few minutes, footsteps came up the stairs followed by a knock on the door. Phillip didn't answer.

"Phillip, are you in there?" Mike asked. "Can I come in?"

No answer.

The door opened slowly. Mike peeked in and spotted Phillip still lying on his bed.

"Can I come in, buddy?"

"Why ask? You're already in, Mike," Phillip answered angrily. "I guess there's no such thing as privacy in this house anymore." Phillip looked away from his stepfather.

"Phillip, I'm sorry about barging in, but when you didn't answer, I needed to see if you were okay. Your mother said that you made a big error or something in the game."

"It wasn't an error, Mike. Mom never listens anymore, not since that stupid baby was born. All Emily does is cry."

Mike ignored the remarks about Emily. "Tell me about the game, son."

"I'm not your son, Mike. You're my mother's husband. That's it. You don't know me or care about me at all. And if you heard what I did at the game, you'd care about me even less. I'm never going to be the baseball player you want me to be. When are you going to learn that?"

Mike's body stiffened with anger, but he took a deep breath, and remained calm. Mike sat down on the bed next to Phillip.

"Phillip, are you going to tell me about the game? I really do care."

"If you really cared, then why weren't you at the game? My real father would have been there if he didn't live in California."

Mike slammed his fist onto the bed.

"You're wrong," he exploded. "Your real father doesn't know a baseball from a golf ball. Yeah, I work hard, and I can't see all of your games. You know an electrician's hours are not regular. But I do see a lot, and I do feel bad when I miss one. Your real father could live next to Andrews Field and he'd still miss every game. Between his teaching, his research and his writing, he never saw your mother, let alone you. Why do you think your mother left him?"

"Get out of here!" Phillip screamed.

"I'm sorry, Phillip," Mike said, looking down. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Please get out, Mike. Leave me alone. I need to be alone," Phillip cried. Tears streaked down the pale skin of his face.

"I am sorry, Phillip. I lost my head. Even adults get mad and say things they shouldn't. I had no right to say those things," Mike said as he was leaving the room.

"You're right, you didn't," Phillip shot back. But everything you said is true, he thought, and he began to cry harder.