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the strangest stolen base I’ve ever seen,” said Victor Snapp. “So we go to the top of the ninth!”
    I went to the dugout door and searched the ground. I didn’t see Sparky. I didn’t see a dead spider, either, so that was good news.

ylan and I searched the field for an hour after the game. We found plenty of bugs but no spiders.
    â€œYou know,” I said, “a spider is pretty small, and a ballpark is really big.”
    â€œI know,” Dylan replied. “What’s one little spider, anyway? There are billions of spiders in the world.”
    But he kept searching the grass.
    â€œI’m going home,” I said. “I have to get back in time for supper.” I stood up and jogged toward the locker room. Just in the nick oftime, I spotted a tiny black splotch against the white line around the on-deck circle. I almost smooshed it but stopped short. I hopped a couple of times before I got my balance. I knelt and took a closer look. Something wiggled. It could have been Dylan’s spider, but it was hard to be sure.
    â€œ
Psst
. Dylan.” I waved him over and pointed.
    â€œIs that Sparky?”
    â€œI think so.” He put his hand out and let the spider crawl into his palm.
    â€œAnd you’re sure it’s not the biting kind?”

    â€œYep. Unless you’re an insect,” said Dylan. “I’m going to move himoutside the ballpark. Too many people stamping around in here.”
    â€œThat’s all baseball is to you?” I asked. “People stamping around?”
    â€œI guess it is fun sometimes,” Dylan admitted. The spider tried to crawl out of his hand. He swapped it into his other hand. “When the two guys were chasing Sammy back and forth. And when the mascot tore across the field. That was awesome.”
    â€œYeah. Those sure were highlights. And you know, when Sparky makes a web. That’s pretty awesome, too.”
    â€œWell, it’s not exactly a high-speed chase,” he said.
    â€œNeither was that rundown!”
    He laughed. “Thanks for helping me find Sparky,” he said. “I just like animals. No matter how small. Some people don’t get it.”
    â€œIt’s not much different being a big fan of Single-A baseball,” I told him.
    â€¢ • •
    There was a green car parked in our driveway. I saw it from the corner and took off running. I would know that car anywhere, even before I saw the ballpark bumper stickers plastered all over it.
    â€œUncle Rick!” I shouted, banging through the front door.
    â€œHey, it’s the all-star batboy!” Uncle Rick jumped up to give me a hug. He looks like Dad, but with more hair and less stomach. It turned out he’d just arrived, and Mom and Dad hadn’t even known he was coming. Uncle Rick lives in the city. He explained that he’d been driving back from a trade show and took a detour to surprise us.
    Uncle Rick is the biggest baseball fan Iknow. He’s the one who explained the rules of the game to me when I was little, and taught me all the ballpark slang, and showed me how to keep score. He even gave me all his baseball cards. That was huge. I knew Uncle Rick loved those cards. “They just sit around at my place,” he’d said. “I don’t have much time to enjoy them, but you do.”
    When Uncle Rick goes on vacation, he figures out a route where he can see as many baseball games in as many different ballparks as he can. Some years he goes to spring training in Florida or Arizona. I hope one day he’ll take me with him. Uncle Rick has a great life for a grown-up, even if he spends most of his days selling dental supplies.
    Over dinner I told Uncle Rick all about being a batboy. I told him about Grumps’s nickname and Wally’s mustache and WayneZane’s bad jokes. I told him about Mike Stammer’s unassisted triple play and Sammy Solaris’s stolen base.
    â€œYou never know