Baseball Card Adventure: Satch And Me Part 4

"How old were you back then?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed and focusing on the feeling.

"Lemme see," Flip said. "I was born in 1934. So in 1942 I waseight."

My right arm was tingling now. I could feel the sensation starting to move across my body.

"Do you remember what it felt like to be young?" I asked. Both my arms were tingling now. It was such a pleasant feeling.

"Man, those were the days," Flip said. "It's true what they say, Stosh. Youth is wasted on the young. I sure wish I was young again. Like, say, eighteen. That was a good age. Boy, if I knew then what I know now, I woulda done things different. I woulda done a lotta things different."

The tingling sensation was sweeping up and down me now, like a wave. My body was almost vibrating. I had reached the point of no return. I wanted to see what it looked like, but I didn't dare open my eyes.

"What would you have done differently?" I asked.

I never heard Flip's response.

I felt myself fading away.

7.

The Diner "NEED SOME KETCHUP AT TABLE THREE!"

"Gimme one Adam and Eve on a raft! Make it to go!"

"One blue plate special! And a hockey puck!"

I opened my eyes. I was sitting at a booth in a diner, with waitresses hustling back and forth and the loud buzz of conversation all around. What a relief! At least I hadn't landed in a dark alley, or in some battlefield with bullets whizzing by my face.

Flip was nowhere to be seen. A teenage kid was sitting on the other side of the table, and he was staring at me.

"Who are you?" I asked him.

"What do you mean, who am I?" the kid replied. "Stosh, it's me!"

"Me who?"

"Flip!"

"Get outta here!" I said.

The kid couldn't have been more than nineteen. Twenty, tops.

"You're not Flip," I said. "Flip is an old man."

I noticed that Flip's suitcase was next to the kid in the booth. He looked at himself in the s.h.i.+ny metal surface of the napkin holder. His jaw dropped open. He touched his face and pulled at his skin as if he didn't think it was real. The kid took off his hat. He had short blond hair.

"Hey, I look good!" he said.

The kid was wearing the same clothes as Flip too. And they fit him!

"Where's Flip?" I demanded. "What did you do to him?"

"Stosh, I swear, I am Flip."

"Prove it," I said. "Who won the World Series in 1955?"

"The b.u.ms, of course. The Brooklyn Dodgers," he said. "It was the only year they ever won."

"Well, everybody knows that," I said. "That doesn't prove you're Flip."

"We live in Louisville, Kentucky, Stosh," the kid said. "I run a baseball card shop there."

"Oh yeah? Well, why are you called Flip?" I asked.

"When I was a kid, me and my buddies in Brooklyn used to flip baseball cards against the wall. Stosh, you gotta believe me. I'm your Little League coach! We came here to see how fast Satchel Paige could throw a ball."

It really was Flip! When I looked at his face closely, I could see a slight resemblance. But he was more than fifty years younger than the Flip I knew.

Then I figured out what must have happened. When I travel through time, I get whatever I wish for. One time I wished I was an adult, and when I opened my eyes in 1909, I was a grown man. This time, Flip wished he could be eighteen years old again. And he was!

While I was figuring it all out, Flip took off his jacket. He rolled up a sleeve and made a muscle.

"Hey, Stos.h.!.+" he said, admiring his bulging biceps. "Check this out!"

"Okay, okay," I said. "Flip, will you knock that off? People are staring."

I looked around the diner. It had those red stools that spin around. There was a jukebox in the corner. There were a bunch of pies in a gla.s.s container on the counter. It was just like one of those diners that are made to look like they're from a long time ago. Only this one really was from a long time ago.

"Hey, Flip," I whispered. "Did you see that waitress over there? She's beautiful!"

"Fuhgetabout that, Stos.h.!.+ What are we doin' here? I thought we were supposed to meet Satchel Paige."

"Be patient," I said. "He might walk in the door any minute. Or we might have to go find him. But believe me, he's around somewhere."

"Somethin' tells me we ain't gonna see Satchel Paige in this joint," Flip said.

"Why not?"

Flip pointed to a sign above the restroom door. It said WHITES ONLY. Everybody in the diner was white, I noticed. It never would have occurred to me if I hadn't seen the sign.

"It's the 1940s," Flip said. "It's a different world."

This was a world Flip knew from when he was a kid. He beamed from ear to ear when he saw something he remembered. "Look, Stos.h.!.+" he said. "Clicquot Club orange phosphate soda! I used to drink that stuff all the time back in Brooklyn!" He pointed out the old Studebaker and Nash cars through the window.

But mostly, Flip was admiring his new muscles. He was really built, and he kept flexing his arms and posing proudly.

"Will you quit that?" I said, "It's embarra.s.sing, Flip! You're in your seventies."

"Not here I ain't," he said pulling the front of his s.h.i.+rt out of his pants. "Hey, get a load of my abs, Stos.h.!.+ I got a six-pack!"

Suddenly I noticed somebody was standing next to our table. It was that good-looking waitress. Her name tag read LAVERNE.

"You wanna put your tummy away, big boy?" she said. "This is a family place."

"I'm sorry," said Flip, and his face got all red.

This girl Laverne was really cute. She had long dark hair with curled bangs and these piercing green eyes. She was probably the prettiest girl I had ever seen.

"What can I get you fellas?" Laverne asked.

"Oh, we're not hungry," Flip said.

Laverne put a hand on her hip and stared at him.

"Just like sittin' 'round diners?" she asked.

"We were about to leave," Flip said.

I kicked him under the table. He looked at me and I mouthed the words, "She's hot!" but he just ignored me. When it came to women, Flip was clueless.

"Sure we're hungry," I said. "What's the specialty of the house?"

"My daddy makes roast chicken and corn bread that will make you think you died and went to heaven," Laverne said.

Through an opening in the back of the diner, I saw a guy cooking on a smoky stove. He was wearing a white ap.r.o.n and one of those white paper hats.

"Do you have anything that's low carb?" Flip asked.

"Low what?" Laverne replied, and I kicked Flip under the table again. I'm not even sure they knew what carbohydrates were in 1942. Come to think of it, I don't even know what they are now.

"The chicken sounds good," I said. "How much is it?"

"For you, a buck and a quarter."

"That's all?" I asked.

"You can pay more if you wanna," Laverne said.

"Can I get a c.o.ke too?"

"Sure thing, toots."

"I'll have a cup of coffee," Flip said.

"CUPPA JOE!" Laverne called out toward the kitchen. "How do you like it, handsome?"

"Black," Flip replied.

"NO COW!" Laverne shouted.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I said.

"Well, you're a little young to be wantin' my telephone number," she replied, glancing at Flip.

"No," I said. "Where are we? I mean, what town?"

"Hon, you're right outside the beautiful town of Spartanburg, South Carolina."

"And it's 1942, right?" I asked.

"Last time I looked," Laverne said. "Say, you don't get out much, do ya? I'll be right back with your drinks."

Laverne left and I kicked Flip again.

"Did you see the way she was looking at you?" I asked. "She likes you, Flip. She's flirting!"

"Don't be silly. Waitresses just smile like that to get good tips."

"Yeah, but after we track down Satchel Paige, you should ask her out on a date."

"Stosh, I don't even know her!"

"Well, that's how you'll get to know her," I insisted.

I heard a noise outside, so I looked out the window. A bus had pulled up. The words "Homestead Grays" were painted on the side.

It wasn't long before Laverne came back with our drinks.

"My friend Flip here says you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen," I told her.

"I did not!" Flip exclaimed.

Laverne smiled. "You're pretty cute yourself, Flip." She giggled. "How old are you?"

"Seventy-two," Flip replied.

"Hahahaha! He's joking!" I said. "Flip's eighteen. What a kidder!"

"Well, it just so happens that I'm gonna be eighteen in a couple of days myself," Laverne said. "What do you do, honey?"

"Flip's a baseball player," I said. "He's thinking of trying out for the Dodgers."

"Stos.h.!.+" Flip yelled.