Eight-grader Roy Morelli can’t wait for baseball season to start so he can take his rightful place as shortstop for the Pilchuk All-Star team. Being on the All-Stars is just the warm-up for the big leagues: the varsity baseball team at the high school Roy will go to next year. But when Roy’s divorced parents find out he’s failing history, they make him quit the All-Stars. It’s not his fault the only thing interesting about history class is Valerie Hopkins, and she won’t even give Roy the time of day.
Now Roy is stuck on a losing team in the wimpy rec league, and instead of playing ball every spare minute, he’s spending his afternoons with a tutor—who just happens to be his dad’s brainiac girlfriend. If Roy’s going to impress the varsity baseball coach, he’s sure he should be looking out for number one, not wasting his time studying. After all, baseball is what Roy does best. But when his grades continue to slide and his teammates get tired of his know-it-all attitude, Roy Morelli will need to step up to the plate. . . .
From the Hardcover edition.
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|Title of eBook: Roy Morelli Steps Up to the Plate|
|Release Date: 03-09-2010|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Delacorte Books for Young Readers|
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|Parent title||Roy Morelli Steps...|
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Roy Morelli Steps Up to the Plate
Three more," Dad said, stepping off the mound.
"Make 'em count," I told him, wiggling the bat.
We were on one of the eight ball fields that surrounded the grandstand, the small, half-covered stadium that sat in the middle of Boardman Park. Baseball season started next week, and I needed to shake off the winter rust.
"What do you want?" Dad called. He was tall, like me, but heavy. He was wearing jeans and a faded green Pilchuck High School T-shirt. His hair hung over the top of his ears, like it had for as long as I could remember.
"Whatever you got, old-timer," I said, twisting my toe into the dirt, imagining this was the last inning of the biggest game of my life.
"Old-timer?" Dad asked, like he hadn't heard me right.
"That's what I said." I tugged on my ear and pointed to Dad. "Maybe you should adjust that hearing aid."
Dad gripped all three baseballs in his right hand and held them out for me to see. "You know what these are?" he asked.
"Strike one, strike two, and strike three."
I shook my head and smiled. "No way, old man."
He stepped back onto the mound. "First pitch," he said, bending forward to start his windup.
"Just make sure it comes with mustard."
Dad smiled. "Order up." He leaned back, then stepped into a breaking ball that curved to the outside corner as it crossed the plate.
I saw the movement on the ball, but swung too late to catch up.
I slid my hands back down the barrel and pointed at Dad. "Another one," I said.
Same pitch. This time, I swung earlier but got underneath it, fouling it behind me.
"Time," I sa...