阅读理解Emmitt followed his father to row eleven, seats thirteen and fourteen. He was so busy taking in the sights at the baseball stadium that he wasn't watching where he was going. He bumped right into his father's back. "Sorry, Dad."
His father laughed. "No problem. Which seat do you want?"
Emmitt looked at the number thirteen on the back of the seat. Thirteen was supposedly an unlucky number, and he was going to need some luck if he was going to catch a foul ball(界外球). "I'll take fourteen."
As the players took the field, Emmitt took pictures for his scrapbook. He cheered, did the wave, and even got a foam finger(泡沫手指). The game was great. But it was missing one thing. A foul ball. Emmitt wanted nothing more than to catch a foul ball.
Every time a batter popped a ball into the air, Emmitt sprang to his feet. And each time, he'd groan and sit back down. He'd seen foal balls go over his head and fall short of his row. He saqueezed his foam finger when the next batter came to the plate. It was his favorite player—Harry "the Hammer" Watson. Emmitt stood up and cheered for him. He heard the crack of the bat and watched the ball sail into the air… right toward Emmitt! He couldn't believe it. He was going to catch a foul ball hit by Harry Watson.
"Daddy!" the little girl sitting next to Emmitt cried. "The ball! The ball! Catch it!"
Emmitt saw the huge smile on the girl's face. She wanted the ball.
He turned his back to the ball just as it reached his seat. Emmitt leaned toward his dad and the ball dropped into the hands of the little girl's father.
"Why did you do that?" Emmitt's father asked. "Do you realize who hit that ball?"
"Yeah, but look," Emmitt nodded to the little girl. She was hugging the ball.
"My first game and I got a foul ball," she said.
"I'm proud of you, Emmitt," his dad said, ruffling his hair. "That was a really nice thing to do."
Emmitt smiled as he watched the little girl. He didn't get his foul ball, but he felt as good as if he had.