The L.A. Dodger

Mike Walsh leaned over to look down the aisle of the airplane. Good. No one was coming. He unbuckled his seat belt and stepped into the aisle.

“Watch this,” Mike said to his cousin Kate Hopkins. She was in the seat next to his. It was spring break, and Mike and Kate were flying by themselves from New York to Los Angeles to visit Kate’s father. He worked as a baseball scout for the L.A. Dodgers.

Mike jumped up as high as he could. His fingers reached for the ceiling.

THUD
. When his feet hit the floor, his knees buckled. He steadied himself and then dropped back into his seat.

“Oh brother,” Kate said, rolling her eyes. Mike wasn’t afraid to try silly things. She thumbed through a shopping catalog that she had found at her seat. It was filled with baseball jerseys for dogs, self-inflating seat cushions, bug vacuums, and other funny things.

“I don’t get it. The pilot said we were going five hundred and thirty miles per hour,” Mike said as he buckled his seat belt. “I thought I’d fly to the back of the plane if I jumped up. That would be soooo cool!”

Kate shook her head. Her dark brown ponytail wagged back and forth. “And soooo
not possible,” she said. “You’re going five hundred and thirty miles per hour, too, even when you jump. It’s no different than jumping on the ground.”

“You kids okay?” asked Rich, one of the flight attendants. Kate’s mom had asked him to keep an eye on them during the flight. “Did you need help getting something, Mike?”

Mike blushed. “No, thanks,” he said. “I was just stretching.”

“Good idea! It’s a long flight,” Rich said. “Let me know if you want anything.”

Kate put away the catalog. Then she fished around in the seat pocket in front of her. She pulled out a blue L.A. Dodgers notebook and a book with a photo of the big white Hollywood sign on the cover.

“What’s that?” Mike asked.

“It’s a guidebook to Los Angeles,” Kate said.
“My mom gave it to me for the trip.” Kate’s mother worked as a reporter for the American Sportz website. Her mother and father had divorced when Kate was two. She lived with her mother in Cooperstown, New York, just down the street from Mike and two blocks away from the Baseball Hall of Fame. Mike’s mom and Kate’s mom were sisters, so Kate and Mike were cousins. They were also best friends.

Kate leafed through the book. She wrote down the sights she wanted to see in the Dodgers notebook.

Bored, Mike flipped down the tray table from the seat in front of him. He grabbed a book about the Los Angeles Dodgers from his backpack and started reading.

“Hey, did you know that the Dodgers did this, too?” Mike asked.

Kate stopped writing. “Did what?” she asked.
“Tried to jump up and touch the ceiling?”

“No, not that. The Dodgers flew to L.A. from New York, just like us. They used to be the Brooklyn Dodgers from New York City,” Mike said. “They moved to L.A. in the 1950s. It says in this book that a lot of the fans in Brooklyn were really upset. They wanted the Dodgers to stay in Brooklyn.”

“Hopefully they’re over it by now,” Kate said. “New York still has the Mets and the Yankees. That’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, but people in Brooklyn really loved the Dodgers,” Mike said. “Their name is even connected to Brooklyn.” He held out the book for Kate to see one of the pictures. “Back when the team first started playing, there were lots of trolley cars in Brooklyn. People had to
dodge
them to cross the street. So they called the team the Dodgers!”

“Well, my dad says the main thing you have to watch out for in L.A. is traffic,” Kate said. “So maybe they should change their name to the L.A. Traffic!”

Mike groaned at Kate’s joke and went back to his book. The rest of the flight was smooth, and the plane landed in L.A. around five o’clock. When Rich led them to the baggage claim area, Kate spotted her father right away. Mr. Hopkins was wearing a bright blue Dodgers warm-up jacket, a white shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. Kate ran over and gave him a huge hug.

“Hola!”
Kate said.
Hola
meant
hello
in Spanish. Kate liked to practice Spanish with her dad. Mr. Hopkins had spent several months traveling in Mexico and spoke it with ballplayers. Sometimes he sent Kate emails in Spanish for her to translate.

She stepped back and looked at her dad’s shiny black leather boots. They had a fancy white design carved into them. “Nice boots!”

“Thanks,” he said. “I bought them when I was in Arizona for spring training. They seemed fun.” Mr. Hopkins leaned over and gave Mike a hug. “I’m glad you could make it out here, Mike. Haven’t seen you since last summer. It will be nice to take the week off from work. It’s been …”

Kate’s dad paused for a moment as if he had forgotten a word. His jaw clenched up. He tugged aside his jacket and pulled a small black notebook out of his shirt pocket. He looked at it and slid it back without even opening it. He shook his head slightly and smiled. “Things have been a little crazy lately,” he went on. “But that’s not your problem. We’re going to have a fun week.”

Kate held up her blue L.A. Dodgers notebook. “Well, I wrote down all the things
I
want to see while we’re here.
That
should keep us busy.”