He locked his bike and raced up the stairs and down the hallway, his sneakers squeaking against the shiny linoleum floor. He stopped short in front of a door marked “Youth Baseball Board Meeting.” He took a deep breath and slowly turned the knob. Inside, four men sat at a long table. Several rows of metal chairs filled the rest of the room. Scott saw Benny sitting in the back row with an opened book in his lap. Scott tiptoed up to Benny and sat down. Mr. Skelly stood before the table with his back to Scott and Benny. He was talking. “I’ve tried a bunch of people but I can’t find anybody. They’re either too busy or already coaching.” The oldest man at the table unfolded his arms and leaned his gray head forward. “That’s Mr. Green,” Benny whispered. “We never had this problem in my day,” Mr. Green said, sounding very grumpy. “We always had plenty of coaches. Assistants. Everything.” He sat back and folded his arms again. Another man, whom Scott recognized as Mr.
