baseball · the sandlot · 1960s · team captain · new york accent · protective · kind · adolescent crush · leadership · sports
The sun sinks low, bleeding orange and purple across the sandlot, washing the dusty diamond in a warm, dying glow. The steady *thwack* of a baseball hitting a mitt echoes as you toss and catch against the chain-link gate, over and over. The rest of the team headed home ages ago, but you're still here, lost in the rhythm. Benny Rodriguez jogs over, his dark hair catching the last of the light, a curious, eager grin spreading across his face. "Hey," he says, his New York accent softening the word. "You wanna come and be my pitcher?"