Girls like Lucy did not understand baseball, in Charlie Brown's opinion.

That was not to say that all girls could not; Peppermint Patty more than proved that girls could be star players. Even less sporty ladies like Violet, Patty Swanson and Freida, who would rather make daisy chains in the outfield than run after fly balls, could show a little respect for the game once they found their groove.

Lucy, however, barely seemed to realize that baseball had a certain dignity to it that had to be honored, even revered.

Players took off their hats during the national anthem; players did not try to throw bean balls at their opponents; players did not try to order Chinese food while they were in right field, players did not throw insults at their pitchers, and players certainly did not try to flirt with the boys on the opposing team.

Twice, Schroeder had to drag her away from some freckled guy who smiled a lot at her since the moment his team had showed up, and after she started calling encouraging words to her new crush when he went up to bat, Charlie Brown finally called her over to the pitcher's mound to try to explain things in simple terms that even she could understand.

"He's not actually interested in you, Lucy," he said as patiently as he could, albeit through a clenched jaw. "He's trying to psych you out."

Lucy furrowed her brow. "How so?"

"So that you won't try to get him out when you have the chance," Schroeder answered, frowning through the wires of his catcher's mask.

"Or maybe he just thinks I'm cute?" she retorted, giving him a testy look. "Some guys go for athletic girls with sparkling personalities, you know."

"Sure, when one's actually around," he clipped.

Lucy folded her arms, still wearing her leather glove. "I happen to appeal to an esoteric sense of taste, Schroeder, one which only the most mature sort of boy can cultivate."

She gave him a significant look.

"Oh, sure, crabby fussbudgets are like fine wine," he replied, his voice dripping sarcasm like a faucet. "Maybe we should roll out some cheese and crackers next."

"Not a bad idea. I'm getting a little hungry—"

"The point is," Charlie Brown cut her off — although he was usually pretty yielding when it came to Lucy's shenanigans, baseball was one of the few things that could make him more assertive — "the point, Lucy, is that your new boyfriend is only thinking about baseball, not you. Opponents aren't supposed to get all chummy during a game. If he really liked you, he would wait until the game was over, not try to sweeten you up. It's a mockery of baseball to be trying to get a date right now."

"So, why did he give me his number, huh?" Lucy demanded, pulling a scrap of lined paper from her pocket. "Nobody could be that big of a jerk and then give me his number, right?"

"How do you know it's real?" Schroeder challenged.

"Because—" Lucy faltered, glancing hurriedly at the writing. Then she frowned. "It'd better be real, or he's going to regret picking this fussbudget to psych out."

"I'm regretting that this fussbudget decided to show up for the game," Schroeder muttered.

Lucy clenched the paper in her fist and punched the palm of her mitt, glaring now.

"Then if that guy is only faking that he likes me, then you better strike him out, Charlie Brown — unless he's sincere," she faltered, "in which case it would be a low move to get revenge. This could be my one chance to find true love. Oh! Schroeder" — turning and grabbing the startled blond catcher by his collar — "maybe you could just ask him if he really likes me! Then once we know, Charlie Brown can—"

"GET BACK TO RIGHT FIELD!" Charlie Brown exploded, his round face turning red.

Lucy jolted, momentarily shocked at his outburst. Those few times that Charlie Brown lost his temper were enough to get her to comply, and so she spun and marched back toward her position, muttering to herself.

Schroeder adjusted his chest guard, watching Lucy with a frown. "One of these days you really need to refuse to let her on the team, Charlie Brown."

"We could start now," Charlie Brown cracked. "If that guy's actually sincere, we could get two birds with one stone."

Schroeder turned. "What do you mean?"

Charlie Brown motioned sarcastically to the still waiting batter, who was leaning against the backstop and knocking the dust off his shoes with his bat.

"If Lucy started dating him, she would join his team just to spend more time with him, right? Then we would lose our worst player, and they would have to deal with Lucy from now. Maybe we could win a few games against them for a change."

Schroeder looked appalled. "There's such a thing as good sportsmanship, Charlie Brown."

"All's fair in love and baseball," Charlie Brown declared. "Besides, it's not like it's any of our business if Lucy happens to like some guy and wants to join his team. If they hit it off, I will happily support them, both as a friend and as a relieved baseball manager."

Schroeder regarded him with a squint. "You know, sometimes I have trouble telling when you're joking."

"Right now, it's about sixty-forty," he admitted. "Being behind thirty-nine runs to zero makes me a little testy, I guess."

"Hang in there, Charlie Brown. The first inning has to come to a close sometime."

"In theory," Charlie Brown grumbled. He glanced around the pitcher's mound, looking for where he had placed the ball only to remember it was still in his hand.

"You know, Schroeder," he realized suddenly, "with the lead the other team has, that guy doesn't really have to psych out Lucy. He could have given her his real number."

"I think you've been in the sun too long."

"It's worth considering," he returned. "Lucy could actually be on their team by this time next month, if we stand back and do nothing to prevent it."

Schroeder rolled his eyes, spinning away. "Isn't that a cruel thing to do to a rival, even to win a few baseball games?"

He strode back to the catcher's box. Seeing his approach, the batter pushed himself off the backstop, sauntering to take his spot. Schroeder, however, motioned to him, and the guy turned his head, curious. Schroeder leaned forward and said something, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder toward right field. The batter's eyes bulged, and he held up his hands and shook his head, nearly dropping the bat. Schroeder gave him a stern nod, and the batter quickly got back into position, visibly shaken. Schroeder shot Charlie Brown a defiant look before adjusting his mask and crouching behind home plate.

"You softie," Charlie Brown muttered, winding up for the pitch. "I knew you would have missed her."

THE END

Inspired by the comic strip for June 28, 1984.