A HALL Lot of Trouble at Cooperstown by David Aretha

Author:David Aretha [Aretha, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery, Adventure, Baseball
ISBN: 987-1-62285-121-8
Publisher: Enslow Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2014-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

The Switcheroo

The Cooperstown Motel wasn’t one of those lodgings that provides free breakfast. Nor did it have a little store where you could buy boxes of Frosted Flakes. So at eight o’clock on Saturday morning, an hour before the Hall of Fame opened, the Baseball Geeks dined at the motel vending machine. Omar splurged for the two-pack of cinnamon Pop Tarts. Kevin bought a cherry fruit pie that had expired the previous Tuesday. I bought a raspberry Nutri-Grain bar because I’m a good boy.

“At least Coach is going to take us to Sal’s before we leave,” I said.

“If we’re not arrested,” Omar quipped.

“Shut up, dimwad!” barked an obviously testy Kevin. Omar and I had given Kev his own bed, but he tossed and turned all night. “Why would they even arrest you?” Kevin asked Omar. “You’re just gonna stand there. I’m the one who’s putting his life on the line.”

Kevin started biting his thumb, while Omar stretched out his arms and wiggled his fingers.

“Stop with the fingers!” Kevin crowed.

“It’s for circulation,” Omar replied.

“Let’s just go,” I said, and we did.

We entered the Hall at 8:50, and the line for admission was already long. The bigger the crowd, the harder it would be to make the switch.

“We should have come on a Monday in February,” I told Kevin. “Not a Saturday in the summertime.”

Kevin didn’t respond. Anxiety was chiseled on his face. He wore his dark-blue Indians jacket (the one with Chief Wahoo on the right sleeve) and kept the Glory Ball in the left pocket.

“I hope they don’t do a strip search,” Omar said. Most people would realize that this situation had all of us worried. But Omar isn’t considered most people. When it came to his mouth, it was like a 24/7 convenient store; it’s always open.

“Shut the heck up,” Kevin muttered to himself. Kev had already condemned the Big O for wearing a Phillies cap. A lot of New York Mets fans go to Cooperstown, and Mets fans hate the Phillies. Omar, Kevin reasoned, was drawing negative attention to us.

Anyway, there was no strip search. Once we got in, Kevin took a big sigh.

“Let’s just do it,” he said.

We climbed the stairs and headed toward the Babe Ruth Room. People were already milling about. We even saw the old security guard that Kevin’s dad had mentioned.

In my mind, I called him Officer Clint, because he looked like actor Clint Eastwood. He was tall, thin, white-haired, squinty-eyed, and tough-looking. He was physically fit, probably so that he could run down criminals and beat them with the barrel of his gun.

“Good day, officer,” Omar said while tipping his Phillies cap.

Kevin looked ready to strangle Omar, but he kept his cool. We entered the Babe Ruth Room, where each of us had a job to do. Kevin, of course, would pull the switcheroo. Omar, because he was so tall, would provide cover for Kevin. He would stand in front of Kev so that no one could see him open the case.

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