The pitcher looked nervous, though. After all, the game was tied, and the Bashers had never been beaten by the Krushers.

Still, this was the walking disaster at bat. "Come on, come on," I muttered, and gave Jackie the thumbs-up sign.

The pitcher threw the ball, Jackie swung his bat, and — he hit a home run! Four more runs.

"We won! We won!" the Krushers screamed.

I screamed right along with them, even though I knew the Bashers had been playing under handicaps. Their best hitter had the chicken pox, their usual pitcher was out of town for the weekend, and two good players had been benched for fighting (with each other).

Still, the Krushers were victorious, and our cheerleaders went wild. "We won! We won! We won!" they couldn't stop yelling. Then they remembered their softball manners and shouted, "Two, four, six, eight! Who do we appreciate? The Bashers! The Bashers! Yea!"

I had a feeling this was the first time our cheerleaders actually meant what they were saying.

Our cheerleaders, by the way, are Vanessa Pike and Haley Braddock, who are nine, and Charlotte Johanssen, who's eight. Haley's

brother, Matt, is a Krusher. He's profoundly deaf, but he's one of our best players. We communicate with him using sign language. Several of Vanessa's brothers and sisters (she has seven) are on the team, including her littlest sister, Claire, who's five and sometimes throws tantrums, shouting, "Nofe-air! Nofe-air! Nofe-air!" when she thinks she's been wronged.

Anyway, I waited until all of my Krushers had been picked up by moms or dads or sitters or older brothers and sisters, and were heading home joyously, amid surprised and excited cries of "We beat the Bashers! Honest." And, "We finally won a game!"

Then I looked across the schoolyard to where my big brother Charlie was waiting to drive me and my little brothers and sister home. (Charlie is seventeen, can drive, and has this awful old secondhand car. At least it runs.)