Danger on the Diamond (#90)

Ghost-written series books have many problems: absent continuity, the inability to change the series’ premise, inconsistent characterization … the list goes on.

But one of the most frustrating difficulties is when the author uses a character in a role that is obviously better suited to another character. Chet Morton, for instance, is plopped into The Witchmaster’s Key (#55) as Phil Cohen’s companion on a biking tour of Ireland and the Isle of Man. The role is much better suited to a more athletic chum, like Biff Hooper, Jerry Gilroy, or Tony Prito — although Tony always has too many responsibilities to get away for a biking tour, and Jerry hadn't appeared in a book in almost two decades at that point. Still: Biff.

In Danger on the Diamond, one character is described as a practical joker who learned how to pick locks for a magic act he performed a few years before. That character obviously should be Chet, whose character was originally conceived as a jokester and who is forever picking up and dropping hobbies. But no, the role is given to Tony Prito — Tony, the always responsible one who is always working for his father or on another job.

I get that this character has to be athletic enough to attend a baseball camp and play for the Bayport High School baseball team. Tony was a second baseman in The Mummy Case (#63) and an outfielder in Tic-Tac-Terror (#74), but Chet was a catcher on the team in Mummy Case, and the heavyset Chet is not laughable as a catcher. Yes, Chet wasn’t on the team in the revised A Figure in Hiding (#16), but there’s no reason why he couldn't have been in Danger on the Diamond. Chet’s the jokester, dangit, since all the way back in the beginning! [*bangs fist on desk*] His attempted fish prank in The Shore Road Mystery (#6) was hilarious! And Tony’s the worst choice for a lighthearted prankster! [*froth starts dripping from mouth onto keyboard*] Why can’t Franklin W. Dixon get this right?

[*deep, heaving breaths, gradually slowing*] It just makes me mad, that’s all.

Phew. OK, I’m better now.

Anyway, Frank, Joe, Biff, and Tony are attending a baseball camp in Bayport that Chet is not allowed in. (The other members of the Bombers — the BHS nickname, also used in Slam Dunk Sabotage — are also there.) Dangerous things start happening: the bleachers collapse from sabotage, the pitching machine malfunctions and beans Frank, a rubber ball the pitching instructor squeezes explodes (not in the pitcher’s hand, though), and the locker room’s showers get stuck on very hot, nearly scalding Biff. Tony, whom Biff calls “a clown,” gets blamed for what are believed to be pranks gone wrong. Putting aside that Tony is not a prankster, the Bombers’ willingness to blame Tony speaks to a deeper resentment. Are they angry that his industriousness puts them to shame? Are they indulging in anti-Italian sentiment? Or are they behaving irrationally to further the plot?

That last one, I think. I mean, even Biff keeps blaming Tony. Then again, Biff tries to lure Joe into a shower where they are both intentionally obscured by clouds of steam, so maybe he’s not being written in character either. (He claims it’s to create a “steambath,” but I’m not sure whether filling the shower stalls with steam and take a shower together with a friend is something that would appeal to a heterosexual teenager.)

The incidents bring up larger concerns, none of which are connected to the plot. Perhaps the most interesting is that the author actually takes concussions seriously. Frank is hospitalized briefly after getting beaned, and he keeps a follow-up appointment with the doctor. The doctor says the headaches Frank experiences are normal, which is true, but they’re normal post-concussion syndrome symptoms as well. Since Frank doesn’t seem to experience any of the other symptoms, we’ll let that go. On the other hand, Joe is dazed after getting clubbed in the head and knocked down, but no one cares about that because he doesn’t have a boo-boo on his head like Frank did.

The writer doesn’t seem to have a good handle on baseball, which is worrying. Frank can’t hit at the beginning, so he consults an instructor to improve. The big realization that improves Frank’s hitting? That the hitting instructor “never took his eyes off the ball” while hitting (19). Although this is technically impossible — the visual angle of the human eye and speed of thrown pitches makes it impossible to see the ball the entire way from the pitcher’s hand to the plate — that same advice has been given to every kid who has ever played baseball. Repeatedly. Perhaps every practice. Who gets to their senior year of baseball without knowing this? Perhaps this shoddy coaching is why the Bombers seem so awful; the players we follow — Joe, Biff, and Frank — seem pretty bad, striking out and making constant errors.

Also: Taking his eyes off the ball is how Frank gets beaned by a pitching machine, so, you know, maybe he needs a few more reminders.

The kids are also amazed that the former major-league instructors are so much better than them at baseball. Of course they are! These guys made it to the top of the profession, and they’re not out of shape; they’ve been playing baseball at camps like these for years. Of course they can school cocky little twerps like you.

Whether they should is a better question. Is making all the attendees look awful a good business plan? I honestly don’t know. The consequences of the blow to the kids’ little egos argues against that tactic, but the tear-them-down-to-build-them-up school of thought says you need to make them realize how bad they are before they’ll listen. Since only fifteen players, all from the Bombers, are at the camp, I don’t think the camp can afford the defections this approach would cause. Maybe humiliating players has already had an effect; perhaps rumors about the camp’s techniques discouraged other schools, like intra-county rival Seneca Tech (from The Sinister Sign Post, #15), from sending their players.

The instructors seem committed to the abuse. When Frank and Joe approach the former major league pitcher, Zeke Horner, he tells them to “get lost”; when Joe protests, Horner says, “I’ll say anything I want … Keep your mouths shut and maybe you’ll learn something” (30).

The most worrying part of the plot is that the author expects us to believe that one of the coaches was kicked out of baseball for association with gamblers, and no one heard about it. That’s asinine, although I have the benefit of having seen the Pete Rose investigation unfold; Danger was published in 1988, while Rose was investigated and banned from baseball the next year. Major League Baseball couldn't keep a lid on the investigation into Rose for much more than a month. Even during a time when the players and press were much more cozy, like the ‘60s, the rumors would have been rife. If MLB could have hushed it up at the time, the story would have leaked in the intervening years. And I’m not convinced MLB would have kept it quiet. A chance to frighten the players by crucifying a minor player would have been too good to pass up.

Anyway. After a series of “accidents” and assaults, the Hardys throw themselves into the investigation. Technically, the Bayport Police Department also investigates, but we know how effective they are. This time, Chief Collig settles on Tony as a likely suspect, does nothing about it, then abandons the case. It’s clear the BPD doesn’t care: when Frank finds a tie-clip at an arson site, Collig tells them to bring it to the police station the next day. Chain of custody? Forensic evidence? Nope! That’s going to reflect negatively on the department when the Hardys give them their evaluation.

(To be fair: Frank just picks up the suspicious tie-clip from the ground and carries it to Collig, so it’s not like he’s concerned with good investigative techniques either.)

Frank and Joe’s plan for the case is to make accusations and browbeat the victims of the crimes they witnessed. It turns out this is an effective technique — they get the owner of the camp, Spike Nolan, to admit what’s going on, and Horner agrees to meet them at the Bayview Motel to discuss what’s going on — but they’re working on the wrong assumptions. Frank and Joe assume the accidents and damage are part of insurance fraud being pulled by Nolan or his employees, but a loanshark / gambling kingpin’s attempts to blackmail and extort Nolan and Horner are the reasons for the accidents.

(By the by: The Bayview Motel appeared in the revised Figure in Hiding (#16), way back in 1965! The years have not been kind to the Bayview, which is now “a rundown motel on the edge of town” (117). Bayview Beach was mentioned in Tic-Tac-Terror, but there’s no solid evidence the two are close to each other.)

Frank and Joe’s haphazard interest in this “evidence” thing they’ve heard about is especially galling when they quote Fenton: “It’s just like Dad’s always saying: Solid investigative skills usually pay off with good results” (110-1). Geez. Tell that to the driver who got run off the road by gangsters who thought it was the Hardys’ van. If Frank and Joe had, you know, alerted the police about the danger, perhaps an innocent’s life wouldn’t have been jeopardized.

Anyway, to get more this “evidence,” Frank and Joe get a bug from Phil Cohen before they head to the Bayview Motel. Phil insists on accompanying them, and Frank and Joe reluctantly agree. Why they are so reluctant to let Phil run electronic equipment in the van? I dunno, but he comes in handy after Frank and the victim are kidnapped by hired goons. While Joe goes to rescue his brother, Phil gets the cops. The BPD arrives too late, of course, and are forced to take possession of the criminals Frank and Joe have already captured. Oh, and they probably are forced to put out the goons’ van, which exploded when Joe ran into it with a lawnmower. I wonder if the van was based on the Corvair or the Pinto? To be fair, it must have been a super lawnmower, because Joe managed to catch up with the van while riding the lawnmower.

Anyway, the bad guys are taken into custody, and Nolan — cleared of gambling allegations that got him banned from baseball — gets an offer to coach from a major league team. Does he take it? No! He’s going to stick to running baseball camps. Why? Because he’s stupid, just like this book.