"There's always the Mets," John said.

"r.e.t.a.r.ds root for the Mets," Tommy said.

"What'd Mantle do yesterday?" Michael asked.

"Didn't play," Tommy told him.

"He's hurt," I said. "Again."

"Who they play tonight?" Michael asked.

"The Orioles," Tommy said. "Stottlemyre's pitching."

"Wanna go?" Michael asked.

"What's the point," I sulked.

"We'd get good seats," Michael said.

"Maybe they'll go on a tear," Tommy said. "Win about twenty-five in a row. Get back in the race."

"Maybe you'll wake up good-lookin'," John said.

"n.o.body even wants to trade for 'em this year," I said, holding a handful of Yankee baseball cards.

"I got three Frank Robinsons and two Boog Powells," John said, looking through a s...o...b..x. "Who you got?"

"Who you want?" Tommy asked.

"Tommy Davis," John said. "Powell for Davis straight up."

"I got Davis," I said.

"Trade?" John asked.

"I don't know about straight up," I said. "Davis is good."

"What?" John said. "Powell's a cripple?"

"Make the trade," Michael said.

"Straight up?" I said.

"Seems like a good deal," Michael said.

"How about you throw in a pitcher?" I asked John. "Any pitcher. I don't care who."

"Why?" John asked.

"Gives the deal weight," I said.

"Forget it," John said. "Powell for Davis. That's all."

"I got a Boog Powell," Tommy chimed in. "Only it's from last year."

"Doesn't matter," I said.

"You're gonna trade with him him now?" John asked. now?" John asked.

"Only if he gives me what I want," I said. "Powell and a pitcher for Davis."

"Diego Segui," John said. "I'll give you Diego Segui and Boog Powell for Tommy Davis."

"That's your best offer?" I asked.

"That's my only only offer," John said. offer," John said.

"Deal," I said, exchanging cards with John.

"f.u.c.ked again," Michael said to Tommy.

"No, I wasn't," Tommy snickered. "I don't even have have a Boog Powell." a Boog Powell."

"You lied?" lied?" John said. John said.

"I bluffed," bluffed," Tommy said. Tommy said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Get the deal movin', that's all," Tommy explained. "Or else you two woulda been yappin' here all day."

"You know, b.u.t.ter, you're not as dumb as you look," Michael said.

"No," John said. "But he is is as ugly as he looks. It's like hangin' out with that guy with the bells." as ugly as he looks. It's like hangin' out with that guy with the bells."

"What guy with the bells?" Tommy asked.

"The Hunchback of Notre Dame," I interpreted.

John nodded. "That's him."

"C'mon," Michael said. "Ditch the cards and let's go swimmin'."

"Where?" I asked. "The sprinklers?"

"No," Michael said. "The river. We can catch a bunch of eels if we're lucky."

"Why is that lucky?" lucky?" Tommy asked. Tommy asked.

"Because Mr. Mangnone'll give you three bucks for every eel you bring him at the store," I said. "Dead or alive."

"What's he do with 'em?" John asked.

"He eats 'em," I said.

"You're pullin' my p.r.i.c.k."

"I wouldn't touch your p.r.i.c.k," I said.

"Serious?" John said.

"Boils 'em first. Gets all that s.h.i.t outta 'em. Then he cooks 'em in vinegar and oil. Lots of spices thrown in. It's pretty good."

"You ate eel?" John asked, his face twisted in disgust. "On your own? I mean, without n.o.body havin' a gun on you?"

"That's nothin'," Michael said. "Tell 'em what you have the day before Easter."

"Lamb's head," I said.

"I don't believe it," Tommy said.

"The whole whole head?" John asked. head?" John asked.

"Except for the eyes," I said. "We give those to my grandmother."

"Oh, Jesus," John said. "Why?"

"She mixes 'em with oil and water," I said. "My mother says it cures headaches."

"Like aspirin?" Tommy said.

"Sort of," I said.

"You're like a freakin' cave man, Shakes," John said.

"What's that flower you like to eat?" Tommy asked.

"What flower?"

"The one your mother made that one time," Tommy said. "With all the leaves."

"Artichoke?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Tommy said.

"That's not a flower, moron," I said.

"Looked like one to me," Tommy said.

"Lamb's head and flowers," John said. "A feast."

"The Irish know nothin' about food," I said.

"I give you that," Tommy said.

"I give you this," this," John said, grabbing his crotch. John said, grabbing his crotch.

"What does an Irishman call a seven-course meal?" I asked.

"What?"

"A six-pack and a boiled potato," I said, initiating the h.e.l.l's Kitchen game known as the dozens, where ethnic insults flew with abandon.

"How can you spot the bride at an Italian wedding?" John asked.

"How?"

"She's the one with the braided armpits," John said.

"What's Irish foreplay?" Tommy asked, standing up and moving from the stoop.

"What?"

"Brace yourself, Bridget," Tommy said.

"How many Irishmen does it take to change a light bulb?" I asked.

"How many?"

"Four," I said. "One to hold the bulb and three to turn the ladder."

"I'm goin' swimmin'," Michael said.

"We'll go with you," I said, following him toward the 12th Avenue piers.

"What do you call the captain of an Italian submarine?" John asked, in step behind us.

"Chicken of the sea," I answered.

"How many of these are there?" Michael asked.

"About a hundred," I said.

"You know them all, I bet," Michael said to me.

"Just about."

"And you're gonna let me hear 'em all today?"