Satch & Me (11 page)

I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT. LAVERNE MUST HAVE TAKEN
buses all the way from South Carolina. She had her suitcase with her.

“I'm eighteen years old now,” she said. “My father can't tell me what to do anymore.”

I wished her a happy birthday, but Laverne wasn't paying much attention to me. She wrapped her arms around Flip, and it didn't look like she was ever going to let go. While they were hugging, I could see the look on Flip's face. I had never seen him so happy.

That's when a great idea popped into my head. It was such a simple and brilliant idea, I don't know why I hadn't thought of it earlier.

I could go back home and leave Flip in 1942.

The wheels were turning in my head now. It would be so easy. I could go duck into a bathroom or
something, take out one of my new baseball cards, and send myself back to my own time.
Alone
. I'd leave Flip here. He's eighteen years old. He's young. He's strong. He's got a girl who obviously loves him, and he seems to love her. He could live his whole adult life over again. It would be perfect.

Almost as soon as I thought of this great idea, I started to think that maybe it wasn't so perfect after all. In fact, maybe it was the dumbest idea in history. First of all, who am I to mess with someone else's life? If anyone should make a decision like that, it should be Flip. But I knew that if I mentioned it to him, he would never go for it. He'd say it wasn't “the right thing to do.”

Also, if I left Flip in 1942 and he lived his life all over again, who knows what might happen to him? Maybe he would get drafted and have to fight in World War II. Maybe he'd get injured or even killed. Or maybe he would never move to Louisville. Either way, I would get back home and there would
be
no Flip. I'd never have the chance to know him. And it would be my own fault.

There I go again, only thinking of myself. But as I saw the look on his face as he was hugging Laverne, all I could think of was how sad and lonely he was as an old man in the twenty-first century. Any other life must be better.

I was so confused. It was one of those times when you just don't know which
is
the right thing to do.

It was starting to get dark out. There was only
one other car in the parking lot besides Satch's car. Finally, Satch walked out the front entrance.

“Man, I was tossin' them in good,” he said to me. “Did you get me on that speed gun of yours? How fast was I?”

“It didn't work,” I said, and his face fell. “But I fixed it.”

“Come on, let's go back in the ballpark,” Satch said. “My arm is still loose. I wanna see what it can do.”

“Sure, if you can pull those two apart,” I said.

Flip and Laverne were all lovey-dovey, kissing and telling each other how wonderful the other one was. It was starting to get a little gross.

“That girl ain't never gonna let him go,” Satch said, shaking his head. “You can't convince a woman about hardly anything. Once they put their minds on it, that's where their minds stay. We might have to turn the hoses on 'em.”

But finally, Flip and Laverne managed to pull their lips apart. I told them we were going to go back inside Forbes Field and see how fast Satch could throw a ball. At first Laverne didn't believe it was possible to do such a thing, but we showed her the radar gun and just told her it was a “new invention.”

Forbes Field was all locked up by that time, but Satch found a security guy and slipped him a dollar to let us inside the front gate.

“Turn the lights on, will ya, Herbie?” Satch asked him. “It's dark as pitch out.”

The lights flashed on. I had never been inside an empty ballpark at night before. It was beautiful. So quiet and peaceful. It was a little eerie too.

“How did you strike out Josh?” I asked Satch as we made our way toward the field.

“Simple,” he replied. “I know his weakness.”

“Josh has a weakness?” Flip asked.

“Every man has a weakness,” Satch said. “With Josh, you tell him exactly what you're gonna throw, and then you throw it. He don't know whether to believe you or not, and it drives him crazy. You gotta work his head. Psychologize him.”

We got down to the field and Satch rounded up some catcher's gear and a few baseballs from a closet in the back of the dugout.

“Hey, can we see how fast Flip can throw the ball?” Laverne asked.

“Sure thing,” Satch said.

I knew Satch was anxious to throw himself, but he was also a perfect gentleman around ladies. He strapped on the chest protector and put the catcher's mask over his head. Then he handed Flip a baseball. Flip gave me the radar gun and I decided to be a gentleman too.

“Would you like to do the honors?” I asked Laverne.

“Sure!” she said, taking the gun.

I took her about ten yards behind home plate and showed her which button to push. Then I went out to the mound, where Satch and Flip were talking.

“Any words of advice, Satch?” Flip asked.

“Yeah,” Satch said quietly, “you got a second chance. That don't happen every day. You better not let that girl get away this time.”

“No, I mean
pitching
advice.”

“Throw
hard
,” Satch said, and he went to squat behind the plate.

I stood off to the side a little. Flip smoothed the dirt in front of the pitching rubber, and then he tossed in a few pitches nice and easy.

“62 miles an hour,” Laverne called out. “68 miles an hour. Is that fast?”

“Not bad for a boy,” Satch said.

Flip turned it up a notch, throwing a couple of pitches in the mid-70s.

“Okay, give it a little gas now,” Satch hollered.

Flip went into his windup, throwing one pitch at 84 miles an hour and the next at 87.

“Is that as hard as you can throw it?” I asked.

“Just about,” Flip replied.

“Gimme some smoke,” Satch said. “Gimme all you got.”

Flip nodded, and threw the ball so hard he nearly toppled off the mound.

“93 miles an hour!” shouted Laverne. “Yahoooo!!”

“And he's still a growin' boy,” Satch said. “Gettin' stronger every day. I couldn't throw nearly that hard when I was your age.”

“Hey,” Flip said, “remember that Hesitation Pitch
you told us about? Can you teach me how to throw that?”

Satch walked out to the mound.

“A guy named Plunk Drake taught me the Hesitation back in 1930,” he said. “When you're windin' up, you gotta pause a second with your arms up in the air. Then you throw your foot forward, but don't come around with your arm right away. You put the foot down, and then release the ball. Your arm moves slow but the ball moves fast. Throws batters way off stride. Here, lemme show you.”

It looked like the perfect opportunity for me. The three of them would be occupied for a while. I decided to make my move.

“I gotta pee,” I said.

I ran to the dugout. There were a few doors in the back. I pulled them all open until I found the bathroom.

Quickly, I sat down and pulled out my new baseball cards. I stuffed them all back in my pocket except for one. I didn't even bother looking to see who was on the card. Any new card would get me home.

I closed my eyes.

Sometimes it's hard to know what the right thing to do is. Maybe it was crazy to go back home and leave Flip in 1942 to live his life over again. Maybe it wasn't. Flip always said you should do the right thing. I felt like this was the right thing to do.
There was only one way to find out. Sometimes you just have to take a chance and hope you made the smart decision.

I pinched the card between two fingers and thought about going home. Louisville. The twenty-first century. Soon, I started to feel the slightest tingling sensation in my fingertips. I knew that in a few seconds, I would be going back.

And that's when the bathroom door opened.

“
WHAT ARE YOU DOING
,
STOSH
?”
FLIP ASKED
.

I dropped the card. There was nothing I could say. He caught me red-handed.

“I…uh…”

“You were going to go home without me!” Flip said, his voice rising in anger.

“But, Flip,” I said desperately, “it would be perfect! If you stay here, you'll have Laverne. You can live your life all over again. Maybe you can even try out for the Dodgers this time. It would be for the best, Flip! You always said youth is wasted on the young. You wished you knew back when you were young what you know now. Remember? You said you would do things differently. You can take all that knowledge you accumulated in 72 years and start over as an 18-year-old. That would be so cool! I really think you should stay here, Flip.”

Flip sighed.

“Stosh, ever since we got here and I saw I was young, I've been thinkin' the same thing,” he said. “I've been thinkin' of tellin' you I might stay here.”

“So
do
it!” I said.

“I can't,” Flip said. “I got the store to take care of, and the team.”

“The team?!” I couldn't believe he was worried about my team. “It's just a Little League team, Flip! It's not important. You'll have a new
life
here. A better life.”

“I've lived my life, Stosh,” he said. “I don't want to live it all over again. Once is enough.”

I wasn't going to talk him into staying. He was set in his ways. That's one thing about old people. They can be so stubborn. So I thought of the next best thing.

“Then let's take Laverne back home
with
us, Flip!” I said. “If I can take one person with me, I can probably take two.”

“I thought of that,” Flip said. “But she's 18 years old, Stosh. When we get back home, I'm gonna be 72 again. She's not gonna want me in our time. And she wouldn't go with us anyway. If we told her we're from the future, she'd think we were crazy. You're a great friend, Stosh. I really appreciate you tryin' to help me. But it just wouldn't work.”

“Hey!” Satch yelled from the field. “Will you two hurry it up? My arm's gettin' stiff from lack of grease.”

Flip and I went back out to the field. Satch had taken off the chest protector and the catcher's mask. Laverne helped Flip put them on. He crouched behind the plate and Satch went out to the mound.

“Be ready now,” Satch said, “'cause I'm throwin' hard.”

He buzzed the first pitch in, and it slapped into the mitt with a loud pop.

“90 miles per hour,” Laverne called out.

“Now watch this,” Satch said.

He threw again, and the gun clocked the pitch at 91. The next two pitches were 92 and 93.

Laverne said the gun was getting a little bit too heavy for her to hold. I took it from her and she moved off to the side.

“Can you throw that fast consistently?” Flip asked.

“Nope, I do it all the time,” Satch replied. Then he threw the next pitch 94 miles per hour, and the one after that was 95.

“Ya-hoooo!” shouted Laverne, “If you were white, you would be in the majors for sure.”

“Yeah,” Satch said, “
if
.”

She meant well, but Laverne's comment seemed to take something out of Satch. I could see his shoulders sag and his head hang a little. I guess he had forgotten about his situation for the moment. Laverne had reminded him that he was the best pitcher in baseball but he was banned from playing at the highest level because of the color of his skin.

“Maybe I should hang 'em up,” Satch said. “Only guy I can't strike out is Jim Crow. You don't keep swingin' when a fight's all over.”

Flip pulled off the catcher's mask and ran out to the mound.

“Satch, quitting would be a
big
mistake,” he said seriously. “You gave me a lotta advice. Now lemme give you some. You're gonna make the majors. You're gonna be very famous one day. You'll be in the Hall of Fame. You gotta believe me. You can't give up now.”

“No kiddin'?” Satch said softly. “Hall of Fame?”

“I shouldn't have told you,” Flip said. “But it's the truth.”

“Then get back behind the plate,” Satch said, more confidence in his voice. “Let's see how speedy I can wing this thing.”

Flip put the catcher's mask back on and took his position. I aimed the gun. Satch wound up again and burned one in.

“97 miles an hour,” I hollered.

The next one clocked at 98, and the one after that was 99 miles per hour. I'm sure Flip's hand was killing him, but he wasn't complaining.

“Okay,” Satch said, “I'm gonna cut one loose now. Be ready.”

Satch went into his windup. He kicked that leg way up high. He brought that slingshot of an arm down and let it fly. It was the moment of truth.

The instant the ball slammed into the mitt,
there was a
crack
. It sounded like a gunshot.

In fact, it
was
a gunshot. Suddenly, the radar gun just
exploded
in my hand. I mean, it disintegrated. Pieces of plastic went flying everywhere. I closed my eyes so they wouldn't blind me. When I opened them again, the gun was gone. All that was left in my hand was the handle.

“Laverne!” a voice shouted from across the ballpark. “Get over here!”

“It's my father!” Laverne shrieked.

“Uh-oh,” Satch said as he ran off the mound. “We better do some fast steppin'. He sounds mighty perturbed.”

What happened next was a blur. The four of us went running in different directions. I heard Laverne screaming and her father yelling at her. There was another gunshot.

The lights in Forbes Field suddenly went out. I couldn't see three feet in front of me. I tripped over something and fell down in the dark. I was afraid to make a noise.

“Where are you, boy?” Laverne's father shouted. He was somewhere in the infield now, walking around. “When I find you, I'm gonna kill you.”

I didn't know if the “boy” he was talking about was me or Flip or Satch. I wasn't going to take any chances. I crawled down into the dugout on the first base side and took a baseball card out of my pocket. In the distance, I heard an engine start and a car peel away. It was probably Satch, making a getaway.

“Where are you, Laverne?” her father said. “I ain't gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I just want
him
.”

Wherever Laverne was hiding, she didn't answer. Her father's voice was closer to me now. He was right outside the dugout. A few feet away. If he came into the dugout, he could trip right over me. Then I'd
really
be in trouble. I wondered where Flip and Laverne were. I hoped they were together.

I could hear my heart pounding in my chest. His footsteps were on the dirt right outside the dugout now. I held the baseball card in my hand and tried to keep my breathing quiet. I had no choice. I had to get out of there. I just wanted to go back to Louisville. I had to leave Flip behind.

Soon the tingling sensation came. It started in my fingertips and moved up my arm. Across my body. Down my legs.

He was in the dugout now. I could hear him breathing. I smelled alcohol. And just before he would have bumped into me, I disappeared.