He was alone. Ervie was somewhere in the house, playing by himself. Jimmie had never been so unhappy in all his life. Just because he wanted to pitch, he thought. What was so wonderful about pitching, anyway? If he had let Paul pitch for the Planets, everything would be all right. They would have a good team, and he and Paul would still be pals. At last he went into the house and brought out a tennis ball. He stood in the driveway, threw the ball against the wall of his house, and caught it on a bounce. He did this for a while, then he yelled for Ervie. “Ervie! Will you come out?” A few minutes later Ervie came out of the house. “Did you want me, Jimmie?” “Yes. Will you get my bat and hit some grounders to me?” “Sure!” Ervie said, and scampered back into the house. He came out with Jimmie’s yellow bat. Jimmie handed him the tennis ball.
