心胸要开阔

 　　My best friend Larry is exceptionally small. We're in the fifth grade, but Larry is as short as a first grader. Although his body is small, Larry is big at heart. He has a sharp mind, too. All the kids who know Larry like him a lot.

　　Sometimes he gets his share of teasing, but Larry knows how to handle it. When some smart mouth calls him Dopey, Sleepy or Bashful, Larry just laughs and starts humming, “Hi, Ho!”
　　Larry loves sports, but he can't play some, like football. One tackle and he would be wiped out. But one sport seems to be made for Larry — baseball. He's our star player. The legs that are too short for track and hurdles 1 can pump up and down, carrying him around those bases faster than you can see. He can slide to safety under a baseman before he's noticed. And when he's in the field, he catches and throws that ball like the biggest of us.
　　I remember when he first came to try out for our Little League team. The coach took one look and shook his head.
　　“No, I'm sorry, but we need big, strong players. Tell you what — we could use a batboy!”
　　Larry just grinned and said, “Give me a chance to try out. If you still think I'm a weak player, I'll be the best batboy you ever had!”
　　The coach looked at him with respect, handed him a bat, and said, “Okay, it's a deal.”
　　Well, obviously no pitcher 2 could aim the ball inside Larry's ten-inch strike zone! He would be a sure walk to first base every time, and the coach knew how to take advantage of that. And when he saw how fast Larry's legs could travel and how well he handled the ball, he bent 3 over, patted Larry on the back, and said, “I'm proud to have you on the team.”
　　We had a winning season, and yesterday was our final game. We were tied with the Comets for the championship. Their pitcher Matt Crenshaw was a mean kid who never liked Larry — probably because he could never strike him out.
　　Somehow we held the Comets through the top of the ninth inning, and we were tied when it was our turn at bat. As Matt passed our bench on the way to the pitcher's mound 4, he snarled 5 at Larry, “Why don't you go back to Snow White where you belong?”
　　I heard him and jumped up, ready to give Matt a punch, when Larry stepped between us. “Cut it out!” he yelled, pushing me away from Matt. “I can fight for myself.”
　　Matt looked as if he was going to clobber 6 Larry, but my friend held out his hand and said, “Let's play baseball, okay? I know you want your team to win and it must be tough to pitch to a shrimp 7 like me.”
　　“Chicken, you mean. You won't even swing at the ball!” Then he stamped off to the mound as Larry slowly dropped his outstretched hand.
　　We had two outs when it was Larry's turn at bat. The bases weren't loaded, but the coach told Larry to wait for a walk, as usual. Larry held his ground for three balls. One more and he would walk to first.
　　Then, for some reason — maybe because Matt had called him “chicken” — Larry reached out for the next pitch. It wasn't anywhere near his strike zone, but he swung the bat up and around. He connected. We heard a loud crack and saw the ball sail over the outfields. They had to chase after it, and Larry's legs started churning. Like locomotive wheels, they went faster and faster, rounding second and third and heading for home. The Comets finally retrieved 8 the ball and passed it to the catcher. Larry slid safely under him as he caught it.
　　We had our winning run, the game was over, and we were the champ. After we were presented with our winner's trophy 9, we gave it to Larry and took turns putting him on our shoulders and marching around the field.
　　I was carrying him when we passed Matt. “Put me down for a minute,” Larry said. He walked over to Matt with his hand extended again for the handshake Matt had refused earlier.
　　“It was a good game,” Larry said, “and you came closer to win it…”
　　Matt looked at Larry for what seemed like a long time, but finally Matt took Larry's hand and shook it.
　　“You may be a shrimp, ” he said, “but you're no chicken. You deserved to win.”
　　Then Larry and I ran back to the rest of our team. We were all going to the pizza place for victory celebration. I sure was proud to have Larry as a friend. Like I said, he's really big at heart.
　　我最好的朋友拉里特别矮小。我们上五年级，可拉里矮小得跟一年级生一样。虽然他身材矮小，但他有开阔的心胸。此外，他思想敏锐。所有认识拉里的孩子都很喜欢他。
　　有时拉里遭到别人的取笑，可他知道如何应对。当某个说话放肆的人叫他“笨小子” 、“睏小子”或“害羞虫”时，拉里只是一笑了之，随后哼哼两声：“嗨，嗬!”
　　拉里酷爱运动，可有些运动项目他参加不了，比如橄榄球。对方球员在阻截时，一下子就可以抱住他并把他彻底撂倒。不过有一项运动似乎是为他而设的——棒球。他是我们的明星队员。他的一双腿太短，不适合赛跑和跨栏，但却能像唧筒似地上下运动，带着他飞快地踏垒，快得让你都来不及看。他能在别人还没来得及注意到他之前就在守垒员身下安全滑垒了。在球场上，他的接球和投球就跟我们最高大的队员一样。
　　我记得他第一次来到我们少年棒球联合会球队试打时的情景。教练瞅了他一眼，摇了摇头。
　　“我很抱歉，不行，我们需要身高体壮的球员。听我说，球童我们倒需要!”
　　拉里只是咧嘴一笑，说道：“给我一次机会试试。要是你还认为我球技差的话，那我就给你当个最好的球童!”
　　教练用尊敬的目光看着他，递给他一根球棒，说道：“好吧，一言为定。”
　　显然，没有一个投手能把球瞄准在拉里的10英寸好球部位里面!每次他都会被保送上第一垒，而教练明白如何利用这一优势。当他看到拉里的腿能跑多么快和他处理球有多么好后，他弯身拍了拍拉里的背说道：“队里有你我感到骄傲。”
　　那个赛季我们连胜。昨天是我们最后一场比赛。在争夺冠军上，我们和慧星队积分相同。他们的投手马特·克伦肖是个从没喜欢过拉里的刻薄男孩——可能就是因为他从没能使拉里三击不中而出局。
　　我们设法没让慧星队在第九局的前半局占到优势。轮到我们上场击球时，两队平局。当马特经过我们队的替补队员席走向投球区的时候，他对拉里吼叫道:“你干吗不回去跟你的白雪公主呆在一起?”
　　我听到他说这话，就跳了起来，准备给他一拳。这时，拉里走到我们中间。“别这样!”他嚷嚷说，把我从马特身边推开。“我能为我自己干架。”
　　马特看上去像是要狠揍拉里一顿，可我的朋友伸出一只手说道：“咱们赛棒球，行吗?我知道你想要你们队赢，想必投球给我这样的一只小虾米够难的。”
　　“你的意思是说你是个孬种。你连挥棒击球的机会都没有!”马特说完就大步走向投球区，拉里慢慢放下了伸出的手。
　　轮到拉里上场击球时，我们已经有两人出局。垒上没有人，教练告诉拉里像往常一样等着被保送上垒。拉里坚持等了三个坏球，对方再投出一个坏球他就能走上一垒了。
　　后来，出于某种原因——或许因为马特管他叫“孬种”——拉里举棒准备击打下一个投球。来球根本不在好球部位，可他却举棒击打。他的击球又准又狠。我们听到响亮的“啪”的一声，看见球从外场上方飞过。对方不得不去追球，而拉里的腿开始启动，就好似火车头轮子，越跑越快，踏了二垒和三垒，径直向本垒奔去。慧星队终于捡到球，把它扔给接球手。接球手接到球时，拉里已经在他身下安全滑垒了。
　　这局我们赢了，比赛就此结束，我们是冠军。被授予冠军奖杯后，我们把它给了拉里，并且轮流把他架在肩膀上绕场一周。
　　经过马特时，我正架着他。他说：“把我放下一会儿。”他走向马特，再次伸出早些时候马特曾拒绝去握的手。
　　“比赛很精彩，”拉里说道，“你们几乎胜出了……”
　　马特看着拉里，似乎看了很长一段时间，不过最后他还是握了拉里的手。
　　“你可能是个小虾米，”马特说，“可你决不是孬种。你们该赢。”
　　随后我和拉里跑回到队里。我们全队去了比萨饼店庆祝胜利。我的确为有拉里这样的朋友感到骄傲。正像我说的，他确实心胸开阔。