Rabbit Hole Rascals: The Big Game

1. The Announcement

Henry was waiting at the entrance to Rabbit Hole Field when Rabbit arrived with his clipboard. A notice on the board announced an exhibition game against the IRONWOOD STEERS, and Henry had already read it three times. “The Ironwood Sluggers!” he declared, practically bouncing out of his boots. “Steers,” Rabbit corrected. “It's printed in letters large enough to be read from the parking lot.” Henry grinned. “Whatever they call themselves, they're coming to play us.”

It had begun at the meeting room the previous afternoon, when Max held up a letter and announced, “We've received a challenge.” Jo looked up from her coffee. “From whom?” When Max said the Ironwood Steers, everyone started talking at once. The Rascals had played baseball together before, but never against a visiting championship team. “Champions of what?” Joe wanted to know. “I hope it's not eating contests,” Jo said, eyeing his plate of cookies.

Then Max opened a cardboard box. Henry lifted out a green Rascals jersey with a bright number 1, and for one extraordinary moment the room went silent. “We have UNIFORMS?” Joe cried. Plate Spinner straightened his red flowered top hat. “I've pitched for this team forever, and no one has offered me a contract.” “We're lucky if we can afford the cookies,” Max replied. “Then cookies are an acceptable salary,” Joe decided. Wolf, Charlene, Richard, and the others held up their shirts while Crow watched from the bookcase. Suddenly they looked like a real team.

Rabbit began dictating to exCel: every pitch, every hit, every run, every error, and every questionable call. “Charts?” exCel asked eagerly. “Naturally.” “Graphs?” “Of course.” “Color-coded performance indicators?” Rabbit considered it. “We'll get along beautifully.” Max looked at Jo. “We've created a monster.” “Two,” Jo corrected. Henry pulled on his jersey, stood a little taller, and promised that the Rascals would be ready when the Steers arrived.

2. Practice Makes... Something

The next practice began with Plate Spinner stepping onto the mound in his rainbow trousers and enormous top hat. “Prepare,” he announced, “to witness the finest pitch in the history of Rabbit Hole Field.” Charlene crouched behind home plate and pulled her catcher's mask into place. “I'd settle for one that crosses the plate,” she said. “You wound me,” Plate Spinner replied, and delivered a ball that sailed so high Crow had time to comment on its flight.

Joe, stationed far out in the field, watched the ball disappear into the grass. “Is retrieving those part of my contract?” he called. “You don't have a contract,” Rabbit shouted. “Then I would like to renegotiate,” Joe said. Richard went to help him search, while Wolf quietly collected the balls that had landed nearer the fence. “He's doing more work than the rest of us,” Charlene observed. “That's because he hasn't stopped to negotiate,” Jo answered.

Henry tried a batting stance, changed it, and tried another. Max reminded him that the bat was not a sword. “I know,” Henry said. “I'm just discovering my style.” When Plate Spinner finally threw a pitch that Charlene caught, the entire team cheered as if they'd won the championship. Plate Spinner bowed. Charlene took off her mask. “Good. Now do it twice.” The next ball bounced behind him.

By the end of practice, the Rascals were tired, dusty, and laughing. They had made some splendid catches, some terrible throws, and one accidental collision with the snack table. Henry looked at his teammates and said, “We're getting better.” Rabbit surveyed the scattered baseballs. “At teamwork, perhaps.” “That's the important part,” Henry replied, and this time nobody argued.

3. The Emergency Meeting

Rabbit called an emergency meeting before anyone could declare practice a triumph. Henry sat beside him, still wearing his number 1 jersey, while exCel spread sheets of numbers across the wooden table. “I've calculated our batting averages, fielding probabilities, and projected outcomes,” exCel said. Joe leaned over a chart. “Does that line mean I get more cookies?” “No,” exCel answered. “It means you have not yet recorded a hit.” “Then the chart is clearly incomplete.”

Rabbit tapped his clipboard. “First, positions. Second, batting order. Third, everyone must know what to do when the ball comes toward them.” Plate Spinner raised a paw. “Would you like me to make the ball's arrival more dramatic?” “Absolutely not,” Charlene said. Wolf pointed to a diagram of the field, and Richard suggested that each player be assigned a task that suited their strengths. Henry was fast, Charlene was quick-thinking, Joe was surprisingly nimble, and Wolf could keep the dugout organized even during a small disaster.

“Can we calculate the chance of winning?” Henry asked. exCel adjusted his glasses. “We can calculate several chances, depending on assumptions.” “I don't like assumptions,” Rabbit replied. “They're how mistakes begin.” Max, passing the doorway, whispered to Jo, “We may need a separate meeting just to discuss the meeting.” Jo smiled. “Don't give them ideas.”

At last Henry put his paws on the table. “The Steers may be bigger and more experienced, but they don't know what it's like to be us. We can watch each other, help each other, and keep trying.” Rabbit made a note. exCel created a new column headed TEAMWORK. “How do we measure that?” he asked. Henry thought for a moment. “You'll know it when you see it.”

4. Packing for the Big Day

On game morning, Wanderlust stood ready while Jo supervised a mountain of supplies. There were gloves, bats, spare baseballs, water bottles, and enough snacks to feed a small league. Henry hurried between the van and the house, checking his backpack and binoculars. Crow settled on the roof and offered occasional comments, none of them particularly useful.

Jo lifted a suspiciously heavy bag. “Joe, what's in this?” “Emergency provisions.” She opened it. Cookies. “What kind of emergency requires this many?” “A loss,” Joe replied. “Or a win. Or a rain delay.” Max arrived carrying the jerseys that had been washed and folded after practice. Henry checked his number 1 again, even though he'd already checked it twice. “Still number one,” Max assured him. “Good,” Henry said. “I'd hate for the numbers to change overnight.”

Rabbit appeared with a checklist long enough to unroll down the van's side. “Equipment, uniforms, scorebook, pencils, water, first-aid supplies, backup pencils.” exCel poked his head around the door. “I've brought an additional score sheet in case we require comparative analysis.” “Bring it,” Rabbit said. Jo looked at Max. “Those two could organize a thunderstorm.” “And complain when it didn't follow the schedule,” Max answered.

At last everyone was aboard or following in the agreed procession. Jo checked the doors, Max counted heads, and Henry stared toward the road with the bright-eyed determination of someone who had been waiting for this day forever. “Ready?” Jo asked. “Ready!” came the chorus. From the roof Crow cawed one last warning. “And nobody forget the cookies!” Joe called. “Nobody could,” Max said. “They weigh more than the bats.”

5. The Dugout

Rabbit Hole Field looked different with spectators filling the bleachers and freshly painted lines marking the grass. The RASCALS sign hung proudly on the dugout wall. Henry stood at the entrance, his green jersey bright against the wood, while Joe sat on the bench examining the contents of his pockets. “You're checking for cookies again,” Henry said. “I'm checking my readiness,” Joe replied. “The cookies are a separate matter.”

Wolf had arranged the gloves, bats, and gear with military precision. Plate Spinner practiced balancing a plate on one finger until Charlene pointed out that it would not help him throw a strike. Richard studied the field and reminded everyone which way to run. Rabbit read the batting order aloud, then read it again when Joe asked whether a trip to the snack stand counted as advancing a base.

Max looked in on them. “How's everybody feeling?” “Ready,” Henry said. “Prepared,” Rabbit said. “Statistically curious,” exCel offered. “Hungry,” Joe admitted. Jo appeared behind Max and looked at the little team in their matching shirts. “Whatever happens out there, remember why we're here.” “To win!” Henry answered. “To play together,” Jo said. Henry considered that. “Can we do both?” “That's the plan,” Max replied.

Then a deep bellow rolled across the field. The dugout went quiet. Another bellow followed, louder than the first. Joe slowly lowered his cookie. “Was that the other team?” Henry stepped toward the entrance. “I think,” he said, “we're about to find out.”

6. Champions Arrive

The Ironwood Steers marched onto the ballfield in red uniforms, their broad shoulders, heavy hooves, and magnificent horns making the Rascals look even smaller than usual. Henry and Joe watched from behind, heads tilted so far back that Joe nearly lost his cap. “Those,” Joe whispered, “are very large baseball players.” “They certainly are,” Henry said. “Maybe it's the uniforms.” “Henry, uniforms do not make horns grow.”

The Steers waved cheerfully to the crowd. Their captain strode at the front with the calm confidence of someone accustomed to winning. A few of the Rascals edged closer together. Richard checked the field map as though it might reveal an emergency exit. Wolf looked the visitors over and nodded respectfully. “Strong team,” he said. “Yes,” Rabbit agreed. “I have observed that.”

Max leaned toward Jo as the Steers passed the concession stand. “Well, I guess we're not ordering hamburgers from the concession stand.” Jo burst out laughing. Joe looked horrified. “They sell HAMBURGERS here?” “Not today, they don't,” Wolf said. A nearby Steer turned his head, and Joe slipped behind Henry. “Do you think he heard?” From above, Crow called, “NO PICKLES, PLEASE!” Even Rabbit lowered his clipboard to laugh.

Henry watched the Steers take their places. They were huge, but they had come to play baseball, just as the Rascals had. He straightened his number 1 jersey. “All right,” he said. “Let's give them a game worth remembering.” Joe emerged from behind him. “Could we make it a game where nobody gets stepped on?” “We'll try,” Henry promised.

7. Green Against Red

The two teams gathered near the infield, green facing red. Henry stood opposite the Steers' captain and looked up, and up a little farther. The captain smiled down at him. “You're the Rascals' number one?” “That's right,” Henry said. “And you're the Steers' number one?” “I am.” “Then we're already evenly matched in one department.” The captain laughed, a deep sound that seemed to rumble through the grass.

Around them, the rest of the teams waited in the distance. Charlene adjusted her cap. Joe whispered that the captain's glove looked large enough to hold the entire snack table. Rabbit told him to stop making measurements without a ruler. “I wasn't measuring,” Joe said. “I was worrying.”

The captain offered Henry a hoof. “We came to play our best.” Henry shook it with both paws. “So did we.” “Good,” the captain replied. “That's the kind of game I like.” Henry felt his nerves settle. The Steers weren't monsters. They were competitors, and they seemed to enjoy the sport every bit as much as the Rascals did.

From the sideline Max called, “Remember your positions!” Rabbit called, “Remember the rules!” Jo called, “Remember to have fun!” Joe leaned toward Richard. “That's a lot to remember.” Richard smiled. “Start with which team you're on.” Joe glanced down at his green shirt. “Excellent. I've got that one.”

8. First Pitch

At home plate the Steers' captain bent to shake Henry's paw once more. Between them, the Mouse Umpire waved both tiny arms to get their attention. “Captains!” he squeaked. “The rules are the same for everyone, regardless of height.” Henry nodded solemnly. The captain nodded too, nearly knocking the umpire's cap loose with the breeze from his movement.

“Sportsmanship first,” the Mouse Umpire continued. “No arguing calls, no crowding the plate, and no distracting the officials.” From somewhere in the dugout Plate Spinner called, “Does artistic presentation count as distraction?” “YES,” the umpire shouted without hesitation. Charlene hid a smile behind her glove.

Rabbit checked the scorebook and instructed exCel to record the starting lineup. “Already entered,” exCel replied. “I've also prepared a chart for pitch velocity.” “How will you measure it?” Rabbit asked. “With considerable enthusiasm.” Jo gave Max a look that said the statistics department was going to be busy.

The teams took the field. Henry heard the crowd, the scrape of cleats, the rustle of uniforms, and the steady beat of his own excitement. The Mouse Umpire raised a paw. The first pitch came in, the game was underway, and for a moment nobody thought about how large the Steers were. There was only baseball.

9. Bleacher Experts

The bleachers were almost as lively as the field. A squirrel guarded a remarkable collection of acorns while insisting that the Rascals should bunt more often. Two badgers argued about whether the last play had been brilliant or foolish, although neither had watched it closely enough to be sure. A porcupine turned around to offer an opinion, sending several mice scooting sideways along the bench.

“Run!” shouted one spectator. “Stay!” shouted another. “Slide!” called a third, although the player was nowhere near a base. A long-eared woodland spectator watched quietly while the others tried to outshout one another. Every so often the squirrel shook an acorn for emphasis, as if it were an official coaching tool.

Jo sat beside Max, enjoying the spectacle. “We could probably field another team with all the experts up here,” she said. “We could,” Max replied, “but they'd spend nine innings arguing about who should be captain.” Crow, perched high above the crowd, offered a loud caw that several spectators mistook for a strategic instruction.

On the field, Henry glanced toward the bleachers and grinned. He couldn't make out most of the words, only the enthusiasm behind them. The Rascals had brought their own little corner of the world to the ballpark, and apparently everyone had an opinion about baseball. Especially the ones who weren't playing.

10. Plate Spinner Takes the Mound

Plate Spinner walked to the mound with the air of a performer stepping into the center ring. His red flowered top hat bobbed above his green jersey, and his rainbow trousers flashed as he tested the dirt with one foot. Charlene crouched behind home plate, watching him closely. The Steers' number 4 batter settled in, and the Mouse Umpire took his place.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Plate Spinner announced, “you are about to witness a masterpiece of controlled motion.” “I'd prefer a strike,” Charlene replied. “So literal,” he sighed. He wound up with a flourish that made the crowd gasp and threw a pitch that snapped into Charlene's glove. The umpire raised a paw. “STRIKE!” Plate Spinner bowed. “Thank you. Thank you all.”

The next pitch was less elegant. The batter swung and sent the ball skittering across the infield, where a Rascal scooped it up and made the play just in time. Rabbit marked the result. exCel whispered, “A fascinating sequence.” “Please record it as an out,” Rabbit said. “Not as a fascinating sequence.”

The scoreboard showed that both teams were scoring, and neither intended to give up easily. The Steers had power; the Rascals had speed, surprises, and a pitcher who treated every inning as an opening night. Charlene tossed the ball back to Plate Spinner. “Again,” she said. “Without the bow this time.” “No promises,” he replied.

11. Wolf Holds the Line

A hard hit came toward the Rascals' side of the field, and for one breath everyone seemed to freeze. Wolf moved first. He planted his feet, reached with his glove, and stopped the ball before it could race into the outfield. The Steers' runner charged down the line, but Wolf made a clean throw and the play was over.

Henry ran over, eyes shining. “Wolf! That was incredible!” Wolf shrugged, though the tip of his tail gave away his pleasure. “I watched the ball.” “And you didn't panic,” Joe added. “I was going to do that part for you.” “We noticed,” Charlene said.

Rabbit marked the out, then looked up to make sure exCel had entered it correctly. “Fielding success,” exCel said, “with an excellent response time.” “Or,” Max suggested from the sideline, “a really good catch.” exCel considered that and added a note.

Wolf returned to his position as the crowd cheered. He had not made a speech or asked for applause. He had simply been where the team needed him. Henry understood something important as he jogged back into place: a big game was made of many small moments, and everyone on the field mattered.

12. Joe's Moment

Joe stepped into a play that suddenly demanded all of his attention. He had spent much of the afternoon making jokes, checking snacks, and offering unsolicited advice. Now the ball was coming his way, and there was no time to negotiate. He sprang into motion, his striped tail streaming behind him, and made a quick, scrappy play that kept the Rascals alive.

“Did you see that?” he shouted, even before the cheering stopped. “We all saw it,” Charlene answered. “Some of us were standing close enough to be nervous.” Joe dusted himself off and looked toward the dugout. “Does that earn a cookie bonus?” “It earns you a place back in position,” Rabbit replied.

exCel recorded the play with a flourish. “Your contribution has improved our outlook.” Joe brightened. “By how much?” “Enough that you should continue paying attention.” “That's an inconvenient statistic.”

When Joe reached his teammates, Henry bumped his shoulder. “Nice work.” Joe's grin softened into something proud. For once he didn't have another joke ready. Then he spotted the snack bag on the bench and recovered his usual voice. “Now, about that bonus.”

13. Charlene's Quick Thinking

The Steers were pressing hard when Charlene spotted a chance that nobody else seemed to notice. The runner hesitated, the ball came in, and she made her decision in an instant. Her throw was quick and true. The Mouse Umpire watched the play, waited until the dust settled, and called the out.

Henry cheered so loudly that Rabbit had to remind him there was still a game underway. Charlene pushed back her cap. “You don't have to be the biggest player,” she said. “You just have to know where the ball needs to go.” Wolf nodded his approval. Joe tried to imitate the throw with an imaginary ball and nearly hit himself in the ear.

“Excellent situational awareness,” exCel announced from his scorebook. “Quick thinking,” Jo translated. “Both descriptions are accurate,” exCel replied, delighted to have found agreement.

Charlene returned to her place with a small smile. The Steers were strong and experienced, but the Rascals were learning to trust one another. Every clean throw, every shouted warning, every teammate covering a base made the team a little steadier. And the scoreboard was getting closer.

14. Seven to Seven

By the late innings, the scoreboard told a story nobody had expected: RASCALS 7, STEERS 7. The crowd had grown louder with every run, and the Rascals' dugout had become unusually quiet. Rabbit checked the score twice. exCel checked it three times. “Seven to seven,” exCel said, as though repeating the numbers might reveal their secret.

“Is that good?” Joe asked. “It's tied,” Rabbit said. “I know what tied means. I'm asking whether we should be pleased.” Max leaned against the dugout rail. “We're playing the champions even. I'd say that's something.” Jo nodded. “And the game's not over.”

Rabbit began listing possible outcomes, each with its own set of conditions. exCel started a fresh chart. Henry listened for a moment, then gently lowered Rabbit's clipboard. “We don't have to predict the ending,” he said. “We have to play it.” Rabbit looked surprised, then thoughtful. “That is annoyingly sensible.”

Outside, the Steers gathered in their own dugout, just as determined as the Rascals. The afternoon light stretched across the field. Somewhere in the bleachers the badgers were still arguing. Crow called from above, and Henry tightened his grip on his bat. Seven to seven. One more chance to make something happen.

15. Bases Loaded

Joe reached third base, Richard stood at second, and Rabbit waited at first. Three green jerseys occupied three bases, and Henry was next to bat. Broom, wearing sunglasses and looking entirely too calm for the occasion, waited near the on-deck area. The Rascals' dugout seemed to hold its breath.

Joe cupped his paws around his mouth. “Henry! Remember, a hit would be useful!” Rabbit turned toward him. “That's not coaching. That's stating the obvious.” “I'm contributing morale,” Joe replied. Richard smiled from second. “Perhaps we could all contribute by staying on our bases until the ball is hit.” Joe nodded gravely. “A complicated plan, but I'll try.”

exCel whispered the possibilities to Rabbit. “A single could score a run. A double could score more. A home run with three runners aboard would be...” “Four runs,” Rabbit said. “I know.” exCel beamed. “I just enjoy saying it.”

Jo leaned forward in the bleachers, and Max stopped pretending to be relaxed. Henry stepped toward the plate. He could hear his teammates, but their words began to blend into the familiar sounds of the ballfield. Three friends were waiting for him. He didn't need to do anything fancy. He needed to see the ball and take his chance.

16. One More Chance

The Steers' number 2 pitcher stood tall on the mound. Their number 3 catcher settled behind the plate, and the Mouse Umpire crouched into position. Henry dug his boots into the dirt. The pitcher looked down at him. “Ready, number one?” “Ready,” Henry said, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt.

The first pitch came fast. Henry watched it pass. “Ball!” called the umpire. From first base Rabbit shouted, “Good eye!” Joe called something about cookies, which nobody understood. The second pitch made Henry swing a fraction too late. “Strike!” The pitcher gave a respectful nod. Henry nodded back. This was exactly the kind of challenge he'd wanted.

For a moment he remembered the meeting room, the box of jerseys, and everyone laughing about being professionals. He remembered Plate Spinner's impossible pitches, Wolf's steady catch, Charlene's quick thinking, and Joe's surprising courage. None of them had come this far alone.

Henry settled his hands on the bat. The pitcher began his windup. Behind the fence, Jo clasped her hands. Max whispered, “Come on, Henry.” The ball left the pitcher's hoof, and Henry knew this was the one.

17. The Big Hit

The crack of the bat rang across Rabbit Hole Field. The ball shot deep into the outfield, past the first Steer who lunged for it, and kept rolling. For half a heartbeat Henry stood watching. Then he ran.

“GO!” the dugout shouted. Joe raced home from third, Richard followed from second, and Rabbit came charging around from first with his glasses somehow still in place. The Steers scrambled to retrieve the ball. Henry rounded first base, his tail flying behind him. “Keep going!” Charlene shouted. “I intend to!” Henry called back.

At second base he could hear the crowd roaring. At third, Max was on his feet and Jo was cheering so hard she could barely speak. exCel had stopped calculating altogether. Rabbit, already safe at home, turned and yelled, “RUN, HENRY!” “That's the plan!” Henry shouted.

The outfielders finally got the ball back toward the infield. Henry saw the throw coming and knew there would be no easy finish. Home plate was ahead, the catcher was ready, and the entire ballpark seemed to lean forward. Henry ran as fast as his boots would carry him.

18. SAFE!

The throw arrived almost with Henry. The Steers' catcher reached for the ball as Henry dropped into a feet-first slide, sending a spray of dust across home plate. For a moment nobody could see whether he had touched it. The Mouse Umpire leaned in, waited for the dust to clear, and threw both arms wide.

“SAFE!”

The sound that followed was less a cheer than an explosion. Henry sat up, blinking through the dust. Joe was the first to reach him, followed by Richard and Rabbit. “You did it!” Joe shouted. “You actually did it!” “We did it,” Henry corrected, pointing at the three teammates who had crossed home ahead of him.

exCel stared at the scorebook as if it had turned into a treasure map. “Four runs,” he whispered. Rabbit looked at the scoreboard. The tie was gone. RASCALS 11, STEERS 7. “Please,” Rabbit said, “tell me you've recorded that correctly.” exCel grinned. “I've recorded it three different ways.”

Henry got to his feet, dusty and breathless, and looked toward the dugout. The team was pouring onto the field. The champions had given them a magnificent game, and the Rascals had answered with one unforgettable play.

19. Champions!

Max lifted Henry onto his shoulders while Jo laughed and cheered beside them. Crow circled overhead, announcing the victory to anyone who might somehow have missed it. Plate Spinner bowed to the bleachers as though the applause were entirely for him. Charlene hugged Richard, Wolf shook hands with a Steer, and Joe looked around for the promised victory cookies.

The Ironwood captain approached through the crowd. “That was some hit, number one.” Henry, still perched on Max's shoulders, grinned. “That was some game.” The captain offered his hoof, and Henry reached down to shake it. Around them the two teams exchanged congratulations, green and red jerseys mingling across the field.

Rabbit tried to deliver a brief statistical summary, but exCel had already begun a longer one. “Eleven runs, seven allowed, four runs on the final play, and a dramatic improvement in team morale.” Max laughed. “Put that last part in bold.” “And include the cookies,” Joe insisted. “They were crucial to our preparation.”

Jo looked around at the happy, exhausted team. “Remember what we said this morning? Play together.” Henry nodded. “And maybe win.” “And maybe win,” Jo agreed. The Rascals had done both.

20. Rematch

As the sun dipped toward the far end of Rabbit Hole Field, the Ironwood captain returned for one last word. Henry was still riding on Max's shoulders, unwilling to come down while there was any cheering left to enjoy. “What do you say, number one?” the captain asked. “Rematch sometime?”

Henry looked at Jo, then Max, then the teammates gathered around them. Rabbit was already reaching for his clipboard. exCel's pencil hovered eagerly over a fresh page. Plate Spinner adjusted his hat. Joe asked whether a rematch came with another concession stand. “Of course,” Henry said at last. “We'd love one.”

“Good,” the captain replied. “We'll bring our best.” Henry smiled. “So will we.” The captain waved to his team, and the Steers headed off together, enormous silhouettes against the evening sky.

Rabbit cleared his throat. “Before anyone schedules another game, we need to review the statistics, inspect the equipment, and establish a training plan.” exCel nodded so vigorously his pencil nearly fell. Joe raised a paw. “Can the training plan include lunch?” “It always includes lunch,” Jo said. “Then,” Joe declared, “I am fully committed.”

Max started toward Wanderlust with Henry still on his shoulders. Crow flew ahead, and the rest of the Rascals followed, talking over one another about the hit, the slide, the cheers, and what they'd do differently next time. Henry looked back once at the field. They had come as a team in green shirts and left with a story they'd tell for years. And somewhere between the first pitch and the final laugh, they'd become something even better than champions: friends who knew how to show up for one another.