I Know Who Likes You

Newly appointed Little League team manager Ernie fears it's the end of the Central Comets when Swimming Pool's mom gives her an ultimatum: go to charm school, or no more Little League. Swimming Pool, the tomboy -- in charm school? That's a stretch. And

Doug Cooney is an accomplished playwright and screenwriter who has written numerous works for youth theater. His work has been honored by the National Endowment for the Arts, the MacArthur Foundation, the Kennedy Center, the Alabama Shakespeare Festival, and the state of Florida. Doug Cooney lives in Los Angeles, California

The Old Ball Game	p. 1
Something of a Star	p. 7
One Beautiful Shiner	p. 16
Some Big Weird Thing	p. 26
Another Ding-Dang Dress	p. 40
Tuna Surprise	p. 46
Life of the Party	p. 57
Excuse Me	p. 66
Last One Left	p. 74
The Moose Lodge	p. 81
Five O'Clock Shadow	p. 90
The Wrong Gloves	p. 100
My Favorite Book	p. 109
Good Morning	p. 120
Meow	p. 131
Victory Lap	p. 142
Like, But Not Like	p. 160
The Rules of Fred	p. 169
Ten Easy Lessons	p. 180
The Brainiac Ball	p. 191
Home and Away	p. 202
Rules of Fred	p. 215
Peanut Butter Cookie Recipe	p. 216
Table of Contents provided by Ingram. All Rights Reserved.

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CHAPTER ONE: The Old Ball Game Ernie had been totally bamboozled.In his wildest dreams, Ernie never saw himself standing under the sweltering sun in the far right outfield of the old ballpark during the bottom of the eighth inning in a standoff between the Central Comets and the Bayside Bulldogs. Ernie was absolutely miserable."I don't even like baseball!" Ernie hollered to no one in particular. "I got no business in baseball!" Normally kids in the outfield are happy to make the most of their isolated post by peppering the air with lame jokes like "Betty Crocker makes a better batter!" Some kids bleat "Naaaaah!" like sheep in a pasture. Other kids wag their hips to a chant of "hey-batter, batter-batter-batter, swwiiiing!" Ernie didn't do any of that. Ernie just yelled whatever was on his mind and stomped in the grass to the beat of his own sulk. "Baseball is boring," he wailed. "Boring, boring -- OW!" A salty drop of sweat caught Ernie in the eye and he winced in pain. "Great!" Ernie bellowed, sending a growl across the outfield. "Now I'm sweating! And I now got an itch!" He used his glove to scratch his rump.It is hard to believe but Ernie had recently become the new and self-appointed team manager for the Central Comets. His father, Red, came up with the idea while they were hogging a booth in a pizza joint on the way home from a movie."Come on, Ernie, admit it," Red said. "It's the perfect position to take advantage of your natural-born tendency to want to run the whole show!" "Team manager?" asked Ernie, somewhat skeptical. "Gotta a nice ring, don't it?" Red urged, reaching for another slice of pizza."Yeah, but," Ernie hedged, "I don't exactly like baseball very much. And I'm not very good at it either.""Who cares!" said Red. He jabbed his pizza slice at Ernie to deliver the payoff punch. "You won't get near the baseball! You'll be team manager!""Team manager," Ernie repeated once more, imitating his father's enthusiasm. Ernie had to agree. It had a nice ring.Not everyone was so enthusiastic about the idea. Kip, team captain for the Comets, wasn't exactly thrilled when Ernie suddenly showed up at practice to announce, "I'm team manager because my father says I get to be team manager and if I can't be team manager, I'm going home.""Team manager?" Kip groused at the time. "Never had a 'team manager.'" He glanced at the other Comets on the field and scratched his head. "What's a team manager anyway?" he asked. No one seemed to know the answer to that question. Nothing in the league rulebook addressed the subject of team managers. In fact, none of the grown-ups that comprised the Comets' rotating roster of coaches, chauffeurs, chaperones, and umpires had any experience with team managers at all. "Now wait a minute," said Mrs. Morgenstern, who happened to be team coach that week, "I do seem to recall something about team managers but I remember it said team managers also have to play on the field." She placed a hand on Ernie's back and pushed him onto the baseball diamond."Whoa, whoa, whoa," Ernie protested but Mrs. Morgenstern had already chucked him a glove from the equipment duffel. "Do you want to be team manager or not?" she queried, with a look that expected to be obeyed. Ernie was backed into a corner. Just like that, Ernie's baseball career had begun.As Ernie walked onto the field, all the Comets groaned. "Hey," Mrs. Morgenstern barked, "don't give me that! Are we going to play ball or not?" The Comets deferred to Kip, the team captain, for an answer to that question. Kip kicked at the dirt. "Let's play ball!" he yelled, but it wasn't a happy moment. For quite some time, Kip and several other Comets had suspected that Mrs. Morgenstern made up the rules as she went along but so far no one had mustered the nerve to confront her or complain.Later that afternoon, when Kip and several key Comets reconvened in the dugout to rehash the