Author's Note: This fic has been 20 years in the making. No joke. Ever since I first saw the movie in Middle School, and ever since I discovered M/M fan-fiction was actually a thing, this little piece has been brewing in the corners of my mind until I finally got my own copy of the movie out of the $5 bin 3 years ago, and gone through it over and over with subtitles. Yes, this goes through the events of the whole movie, and then some, seeing it through the eyes of Benny. I decided not to post it until it was well and truly finished as far as I could stand (May make a tweak here or there). This is NOT about two boys getting it on. Nothing romantically happens until much later in their lives. Kept everything as PG and innocent as possible. Nothing explicit. Enjoy!

If I had to guess, I say my life's purpose and direction changed the day I saw the new neighbors across the street. There was a boy, probably a couple years younger than me, and he was busy unpacking like a good kid. When he looked up, his first impulse was to smile and wave at me. I was so put off by it that all I could do was awkwardly nod in response before going into my house.

I don't know why, but that wave… it did something to me. I still remember moving in 5 years previously. I was 9 at the time, and not that good at conversing with people. It didn't help that regular English never made much sense to me, since people kept changing things up and switching from what's proper to what was popular. It took a long time for me to get a grasp of it, but I still had some pent up anger at being teased for not knowing how to speak to people.

I used baseball to help with my frustration since I was six. The excitement and thrill I got at the suspense of stealing a plate just forced everything else out of my mind. The love of the game grew when I learned about the greatest baseball player of them all. Babe Ruth. A man with attitude, passion, commitment, he had it all! I wanted to be the next big thing. A tall dream for such a little boy.

But once I got over the idea of being new, I found other kids who liked the game as well. There were five of them. We had two thirds of a team, but that was enough for us. We just played. Before I knew it, years had gone by. People have come and gone. But the game still remained. I was now the oldest in our little band of aspiring players.

I was curious about the newest kid in our neighborhood though. He seemed… different. Something about him stood out. I could see some trophies being unpacked from a larger box as I looked out my window. So at least someone in that family had an interest in baseball. I decided not to think about it. Chances are, this kid will think we're weird. Those who don't like baseball look at my group as though we're aliens.

The next day though, while I'm practicing my batting, I can see the new kid in the back of the yard. He must be curious. As I call out instructions to the others, I still can't help but shift my gaze to him. He has what looks like a mitt, but it looks too small to be proper. And his hat… whoever made it should've been shot. I see him move away from the fence. Good thing too. I've been afraid to go over there since I came here. Most of the time, I just ignore it. However, today I'm not so lucky. I'm not focused, and I hit the ball too close to the fence.

Instead of using his mitt, he ends up nearly getting clobbered by the ball, and gets knocked off his feet. The others laugh unabashed, and I just shake my head and look down. I feel embarrassed for him. I remember when I was the neighborhood laughing stock.

He awkwardly gets up and calls out to us that he'll get the ball. I hear the others start to taunt him, and I really start to feel sorry for him as he is startled away from the fence. But when he threw (or what vaguely passed as a throw) the ball, the taunting increased ten fold. These guys can be a pretty mean at times if you don't have the attitude to bounce back from all the jeers. I could just make out his face crumbling as he started to cry. He kept his head down, and ran away. I felt horrible. I'm sure that he would like the game if he had some instruction. But now… humiliation like that hangs really heavy on someone so young. I should know.

The next day, as I was getting ready for practice and stretching outside, I could hear voices coming from his backyard. Curiosity got the better of me, so I snuck up to the fence, and hid behind some bushes.

The kid was attempting to play catch, despite what happened yesterday. That takes guts. The man with him was awkward. That's all I could describe him as. He was awkward in his instruction, and he was awkward around the kid. I had a feeling these two have a standoffish relationship at the best of times. I was knocked out of my thoughts when the ball collided with the kid's head. They both rushed inside, but I knew how much that would hurt. There was a good deal of force in that throw, possibly due to frustration. And the kid didn't know how to move right. I also noticed that the throw even busted the sorry excuse of a glove.

I decided to go back home and finish getting ready for practice. All the while, I kept hearing the kid's cry of pain in my head, and I just wished I could do something about it. When I got dressed and was about to head out, I noticed him sitting on his front step like the universe was against him. So lonely, and so isolated. Summer just started, and this kid gazed at nothing, as though he accepted his lonely fate. That didn't sit well with me. He wants to learn. I can see that. He's even fiddling with his broken mitt as though it was a shield that failed him in battle. And his black eye was a battle scar from a failing war. I could tell he was even crying.

Making up my mind, I grab my spare glove, and an old baseball cap I don't wear anymore. With that, I walked over to him with more confidence than I was really feeling. I've never been the one to approach people, so this is delving outside of my comfort zone. "Hey." I tried to say with confidence. He nodded in recognition, but quickly downcast his eyes, probably hoping I would just continue walking or something and not notice his tears. "I'm gonna play some ball. We need an extra guy. You wanna go?"

"No. Thanks." He said, keeping his eyes down.

"Why not? Don't you like baseball?" I already knew the answer, but I wasn't going to let him get away with a 'no' as his final answer.

"Oh, yeah, but…"

"But what?"

He looked down, and it almost seemed like he just remembered what was in his hands. He stood up. "But my glove…It's busted." I couldn't help but roll my eyes at that as he continued to fumble over his words, "Uh, see? Now I can't go. Thanks though…"

This was what I was waiting for. "It's ok." I pulled my spare glove from my back pocket. "I got an extra one." I toss it to him, and thankfully he catches it. At least I know he has some hand-eye coordination, even with a black eye. He looks back at me a little bewildered, "Come on. Let's go." There was no room for argument. I knew he was excited to go as he hastily chucked his old glove inside his house and quickly called out to his mother. He didn't even ask if it was ok. I repeat myself and off we go to meet the others.

As we jogged, we finally got around to introductions, and I learned that his name was Scotty Smalls. He was curious as to why my name was 'Benjamin Franklin' Rodriguez, and I told him it was because my Mom was an American History teacher, and the year I was born was the year my Dad got his job at the Local History Museum as the Curator.

When we reached our frequented convenience store, I could make out Ham's stupid imitation of the Babe as we walked up, a bubblegum cigar in his mouth. "Imm mah grm bambmmo."

"What?" All they others said.

He finally pulled it out and said, "I'm the Great Bambino!"

"Oh!" Came the chorus of understanding.

"Who's that?" Scotty asked. I knew that was the wrong thing to say around these guys. But I couldn't think of anything to help him as they all looked at him in shock. I don't blame him for not knowing, we're not born with everything we should know when we start getting interested in something, but this… was a disaster. The others were already starting their mocking.

"What did he say?"

"What, were you born in a barn, man?"

"Yeah, yeah, what planet are you from?"

"You never heard of the Sultan of Swat?"

"The Titan of Terror?"

"The Colossus of Clout?"

"The Colossus of Clout!"

I pitch in, "The King of Crash, man." But I tried to convey with my eyes for him to just roll with it.

"Oh, yeah, the Great Bambino. Of course." He said.

I knew that was a lie. I kept turned away from the others, waiting for this conversation to end.

"I thought you said 'the Great Bambi'."

Nice try, but that was never going to fly.

"That wimpy deer?" Ham asked flabbergasted.

"Yeah. I guess. Sorry."

I saw my chance to change the subject as I introduced Scotty to the guys and explain to them why he is there. I leave no room for them to say anything as I herd them towards the sandlot. And I knew I couldn't escape the venom of the other guys.

"Why'd you bring him, Benny?" Weeks asked.

"Because there's eight of us, and he makes nine." I say, as though it was obvious.

"Yeah, yeah, so would my sister, but I didn't bring her."

"With nine guys we've got a whole team, Yeah-Yeah." I could tell Scotty was hanging back. I knew he could hear them. He started to look sad and pathetic again.

"No. With Elswenger we had a whole team." Ham pointed out. "Elswenger could catch."

"And throw."

"Come on, Benny, man. He ain't game."

"You saw the way he threw."

"Yeah."

"You already fill up all the empty positions since Elswenger moved to Arizona."

I pounced on this. "Right! And now I get to rotate eight positions instead of seven!" I stared them down. "I need the practice guys."

"You're the best on the team. You don't need any practice." The others agreed. I was losing them.

Squints didn't help when he piped up, "Come on, Benny, man. The kid… is… a… L… 7… Weenie!"

Yeah-Yeah built on that, "Yeah-Yeah. Oscar Meyer even. " Then he shouted. "Foot-long! Dodger dog! A weenie!" And all the rest laughed.

I looked back at Scotty, and seeing his head downcast made me angry at all of them. They were so childish. "What are you laughing at, Yeah-Yeah? You run like a duck." That was a low blow, and I knew it. I knew that one of his legs is shorter than the other, and he can't help that. But I needed them to see how petty they were being.

"Kay, kay, but I'm… I'm…" He floundered. While some of the others started to laugh at him now.

"Part of the game, right?" I challenged.

"Mmm… Yeah!"

"Now, how come he don't get to be?" I reasoned.

"Cause he's a geek, man." Says the one with the nerdy glasses.

"He can't catch."

I was tired of this. "Man, base up, you blockheads." I say as I turn to walk towards Scotty. I make sure they're actually moving, and not waiting to argue further. When I reach Scotty, I decide to give him a nickname like the others, "Smalls, you take left center, okay?"

I turn to head back as I hear him ask, "Okay. Um, where exactly is that?"

I turn back and barely hold a groan. Arguing with the others dampened my own decision to bring him. "It's… over there, man." He starts running, and I continue walking.

"Here?" He calls out.

I was starting to get a little frustrated. "That's left. I said left center."

"Okay. Right." He says as he moves over. "Here?"

I nod in affirmation, and head towards home. I start off on a practice hit, and the others move like clockwork, throwing the ball to home. I had to try to include Scotty. "Hey, Smalls, throw it to second." I call out to him.

"Okay." I hear him reply.

I hit the ball, and hear the disapproval of the others as I wait and watch. Sure enough, he shuffles backwards, trips, and falls on his ass. Great. I just forced him to repeat the humiliation of yesterday. Almost exactly. He backs away from the growling at the fence again, and instead of throwing, he runs up and places the ball into the pitcher's glove. I could tell everyone's jaws were dropped, including mine. He runs back to his spot, but he looked so deflated.

I was half expecting him to run away again, so I quickly moved to run after him. He waited for me, but his demeanor was already telling me how much he just wanted to leave. He was looking at the mitt as though he was about to take it off.

"You can throw it, you know." I tell him.

He takes his hat off, defeated. "No… I can't." He looks at the guys, and then back at me. "I don't know how." There was the confession of the year. I couldn't help but roll my eyes again. "Thanks for taking me here, but I think I'd better go." He said, and made to start walking passed me.

I quickly stopped him. "Hey! Hey. You think too much." I take a wild guess, "I bet you get straight A's and shit, huh?"

"No, I got a "B" once." He defended. Then he mumbled, "Actually it was an A-minus. But it should've been a "B"."

I smirked at that. I so called it. "Man, this is baseball. You gotta stop thinking. You just have fun. I mean, if you were having fun, you would've caught that ball." He looked down again as though he failed some sort of test. I tried a different tactic, "You ever have a paper route?"

"I helped a guy once."

Not much, but I'll go with it, "Okay. Well, chuck it like you would throw a paper." I lift my arm to demonstrate. "When your arm gets here, just let go. Just let go. It's that easy." I move to head back to the home plate.

"How do I catch it?" I hear him ask meekly.

I think for a minute. This is where he needs the confidence the most. I know I'm good with my aim, so I might be able to help him out, "Just stand there, and stick your glove out in the air. I'll take care of it." I say as I head back.

When I reach the plate, I try to gather my focus and repeat my instruction for Scotty to throw it to second. I spit on the ball, and pray it will fly true, and then I hit the ball with my bat. For an agonizing moment, I thought I over compensated. I was holding my breath as I saw the ball rise and then start to fall. Scotty was doing like I said, and for a moment, I thought it was all over. He was going to miss, and he was going to leave, period. Never to return. But my heart actually jumped when the ball made contact with his open glove. He looked at the ball, not really believing it was there, and then he smiled. He had caught it!

"Yeah! All right!" I exclaim. I was thrilled for him!

"He's all right." I hear squints confess. I could tell he was blown away when he scrubbed his glasses against his shirt, clearly not believing what he just saw.

"I told you so, man." When I saw him actually throw it to second, with decent aim I might add, I could see the immediate shift in everyone's attitudes. When the ball came back to Ham, I saw Scotty smile and give me the 'thumbs up'. "Yeah!" I shout at him, returning the gesture. It was then that we really started to play.

Afterwards, as we all start to walk home, we naturally all head off to our own homes until it's just me, Ham, and Scotty. They were deep into a conversation when Ham broke away from us to go his own way. I smiled as Ham told Scotty that he did good. I could feel the confidence radiating off of him now, and it was unbelievable. I tell Ham to meet up at 8:00 tomorrow.

"8:00, Benny?" Scotty asked, making sure he heard right.

"Yeah. See you later, Smalls." I tell him as I head towards my home.

"Bye. See you tomorrow." He says and starts to walk away. Soon after, I hear him call out to me. "Benny, wait!" I turn back. "Your glove."

I shrug, "Keep it, man." It's an old glove, but it's good. And I'm partial to the one that I have now, so I don't mind letting him have it for keeps.

"Thanks!" He calls back, as though I gave him the best darn Christmas present. That made me feel even better about it.

It also reminded me of a couple things, "Oh, yeah. Hey Smalls." He turns back, and comes out again to meet me. For some reason, I feel a bit flustered, and I don't know why. Perhaps it's the way he is eagerly waiting for me to say something that makes me forget what I was about to say for a moment. "Um, bring a T-shirt and jeans tomorrow, okay?" I try to say it delicately, but he still looked guilty of doing something else wrong.

"Oh, yeah." He says softly.

I nearly forgot the other thing that I wanted to tell him, "Oh, um, you got a fireplace?"

He looked at me confused. "Yeah, why?"

I look behind me to make sure that none of the other guys were still out on their lawns. I allow myself to tease him a bit, "Throw that hat in there, man." I say as I flick the overly large bill.

He quickly takes it off, and I could hear the insecurity in his voice again as he looked down at his shoes again. "Oh, yeah. Well, you know, it was the only one I had."

Before he even finished his sentence, I pulled my other hat out of my pocket. "Not anymore. Wear my old hat." I felt bad for having it the whole time we practiced, but his face lit up anyway. I practically force it into his hands as he looked at me in wonderment. I start heading home, "8:00 tomorrow morning."

I briefly look back, as I see him put the hat on anyway, and smile again, "Thanks, Benny. Great. 8:00." I could just barely hear him call into the house, "Mom! Guess what!" and I was happy.

I felt like I was flying on a cloud. I wonder if this was what it felt like to have a little brother. In one day, I gave him confidence, protected him from being bullied, taught him how to play baseball, and gave him some hand-me-downs that he actually appreciated. I felt elated. I truly felt closer to Scotty than I did the others. I couldn't explain why. Perhaps he reminded me of myself, even though I never got straight A's. Whatever the reason, I was starting to become really glad that he was part of our group now.