Satch & Me Read online

  Hilton Smith breezed through the first eight innings. Josh didn’t get a hit and the Grays couldn’t score on Smith. It looked like he might pitch the whole game, and Satch would never even get the chance to face Josh.

  But the Monarchs had a 2-0 lead going into the ninth when an announcement came over the public address system.

  “Coming in to pitch for Kansas City, LEROY…SATCHEL…PAIGE!”

  16

  Satch versus Josh

  EVEN BEFORE SATCH PUT A FOOT ON THE FIELD, THE crowd was roaring. Some of the fans loved him, and some hated him. With every slow-motion step he took toward the mound, the noise level rose. It didn’t quiet down until the batter, Boojum Wilson, stepped up to the plate. Satch got set to pitch the ninth inning with a two-run lead. “Ain’t no need for signs,” he yelled to his catcher. “Just show me the glove and hold it still. I’ll hit it.”

  Satch struck out Boojum Wilson, and the next batter, Jelly Jackson, grounded out to short. It didn’t look like we’d have the chance to clock Satch’s fastball against Josh. A few fans started making their way toward the exits. I guess they figured a two-run lead was safe with Satch on the mound, and they wanted to beat the traffic out of the parking lot.

  I noticed Satch kept looking into the Grays’ dugout. He was looking at Josh. There were two outs now, and Josh wasn’t due up for three more batters. It wasn’t likely that he was going to get another chance to hit.

  “When do I get my five bucks, Satch?” Josh shouted out to the mound.

  The next batter, Jerry Benjamin, didn’t look intimidated by Satch. He took a strike and a ball, and then lined a single to left. The tying run was at the plate now, with two outs. A guy named Howard Easterling was announced, and he stepped up to the plate.

  Satch looked at Josh in the dugout again, and then he called time-out. He motioned for first baseman Buck O’Neil to come over to the mound. The two of them looked like they were arguing about something. O’Neil called for the manager, Frank Duncan, to come out to the mound.

  The crowd was starting to buzz now as the three men seemed to be having a heated discussion. The catcher came out to join the chat too.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Flip.

  “I guess they’re talkin’ about how they’re gonna pitch to Easterling,” he replied.

  O’Neil finally went back to first base, the catcher went back behind the plate, and Duncan went back to the dugout. Satch got set to pitch. Easterling pumped his bat back and forth.

  Then the catcher stuck his glove all the way out to the left. I knew that signal. It meant they were going to walk Easterling intentionally. Satch threw ball one all the way off the plate.

  “Why is he walking Easterling?” I asked Flip.

  “Beats me,” he replied. “That puts the tyin’ run on first. Nobody does that.”

  Satch kept looking in the dugout for Josh.

  After taking four balls way off the plate, Easterling trotted to first. Runners on first and second. Still two outs. Buck Leonard came up to hit.

  As soon as Leonard settled into the batter’s box, the catcher stuck his left arm out again to signal another intentional walk!

  A buzz swirled around the ballpark as Josh Gibson came out to the on-deck circle, and we all realized what Satch was up to. He was walking those two batters so he could pitch to Josh with the bases loaded!

  You just don’t do that! You don’t put two guys into scoring position and give the best hitter in baseball the chance to drive them in and win the game! It’s just not done. Especially in the World Series!

  “He’s crazy!” Flip said as Leonard watched ball four go by.

  Leonard jogged to first. Bases loaded. Two outs. Ninth inning. 2–0 game. The tying run was on second, the winning run on first. Josh had a little smile on his face as he walked up to the plate. Everybody in the bleachers edged forward.

  “Hey,” I told Flip. “Get out the radar gun! Satch is gonna give Josh all he’s got.”

  Flip pulled out the radar gun, putting his coat over the top of it so the fans around us wouldn’t get suspicious.

  “Hey, Josh!” Satch hollered as Josh got into the batter’s box. “I hear you’re gonna shut my mouth!”

  “That’s right, Satchel!”

  Josh stepped up to the plate with the bases loaded.

  Flip pointed the gun toward the mound and fiddled with the buttons on it.

  “Josh,” Satch called, “remember when you and me were on the Crawfords and you said you were the best hitter in the world and I said I was the best pitcher?”

  “I sure do.”

  “And I said one day we’d face off against each other in a big game with the bases loaded?”

  “Yeah, Satchel. I remember that.”

  “Well, it looks like today’s the day,” Satch said.

  Flip was still fooling with the gun when Josh took his stance.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked Flip.

  “Something’s wrong,” he replied. “The thing won’t turn on!”

  “Maybe the batteries are dead,” I said.

  “They’re new batteries!” Flip replied, hitting the gun with the side of his hand.

  Flip was working frantically on the gun. The runners took their leads at first, second, and third base.

  “Now listen, Josh,” Satch hollered. “I’m not gonna trick you. I’m gonna throw you a fastball letter high. You better swing, ’cause the ump’s just gonna call it a strike anyways if you don’t.”

  “Show me what you got,” Josh yelled back.

  “This thing is busted!” Flip said. “The coach is gonna kill me!”

  “You gotta make it work!” I yelled at Flip.

  Satch went into his windup and threw a fastball that hissed on its way to the plate. It was probably the fastest pitch I’d ever seen. Josh took a good rip at it and fouled it off to the left side. Strike one. The crowd roared.

  Disgusted, Flip put the radar gun away.

  “Look at you,” Satch yelled at Josh. “You ain’t ready up there.”

  “I’m ready,” Josh replied. “Throw it.”

  “Now look out, Josh, ’cause I’m gonna throw you one a little faster and belt high. I’m not gonna trick you.”

  No pitcher in his right mind tells the batter what he’s going to throw next. And if the batter is Josh Gibson and the bases are loaded, it’s just insane! I was sure that Satch was going to fake Josh out and throw a changeup.

  But he didn’t. He threw an even faster fastball, and he threw it belt high, just like he said he would. Josh swung at it and tipped it back to the catcher’s glove. Strike two. The crowd roared again.

  “Now I got you 0 and 2, Josh,” Satch hollered. You probably think I’m gonna knock you down now. But I ain’t gonna throw smoke at your yolk. I’m gonna throw a pea at your knee. Get ready, now.”

  Flip pulled out the gun again, but it still wouldn’t turn on. Why didn’t the stupid gun work?! If Satch was ever going to throw his hardest pitch, this was the time to do it.

  Josh got ready. Satch wound up. He let it fly. Josh swung.

  “Strike three!” called the ump. “Yer out!”

  “How’s that, big man?” Satch yelled as the crowd went crazy. “There ain’t a man alive who hits my fast one! There ain’t a man alive who shuts my mouth! And you owe me five bucks!”

  The game was over. Josh threw his bat all the way into the outfield and stormed to the dugout.

  Flip and I made our way toward the exit and out to the gate near Boquet Street, where Satch had told us to meet him. We knew it would be a while, so we waited patiently. We were still standing there after most of the crowd had left the ballpark.

  Flip was still bummed out because the radar gun had gone on the fritz at the exact moment we needed it. While we waited at the corner, I asked him if I could look at the gun.

  I opened the battery compartment and took out the batteries. They looked okay. Maybe there was some dirt in there. My dad once told me that if you
wet both ends of a battery and clean off the two contacts, that will sometimes make it work. I did that, and then put the batteries back into the gun. When I pushed the Power button, the light flashed on.

  Flip slapped his forehead. If only we had done that earlier! Satch probably threw a 100-mile-an-hour fastball to Josh. Maybe 105!

  A bus was coming down the street, and Flip pointed the gun at it. He pushed the button, and the screen flashed “42.” The gun worked perfectly.

  The bus pulled up in front of us and a bunch of people got off. We didn’t pay much attention to them. We were talking about how frustrated we were that we hadn’t clocked Satch’s fastballs to Josh. That’s what we were doing when somebody tapped Flip on the shoulder.

  “Remember me?”

  We turned around.

  It was Laverne.

  17

  A Great Idea

  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 ne
w 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.

  18

  The Moment of Truth

  “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.”