Game, Set, Match
By: AndiKaneUnderwood
Re-watched Sandlot, and this came to mind.
Playing against the tigers had to be one of the easiest things Smalls had ever done. The Little League team, despite all their boasting, wasn't actually very good when faced with dirty words and wit.
The Sandlot team only played against them twice before they'd graduated.
Once in the summer of fifth grade when the Sandlot team had beat the Hell out of the Tigers with nine home runs and zip for the Tigers.
Once when the Sandlot team (excluding Tommy and Smalls) where in Sophomore year.
Sandlot~Sandlot~Sandlot
James Phillips had always wanted revenge on the Sandlot team for A) taking the Sandlot and B) ripping off the victory for the Tigers back when they where kids.
James would've just pounded each of them, but he respected Rodriguez and liked his face in it's current form far too much for the Latino teen to come screw up a good nose job.
He would've played chicken with them, but the one they called Smalls had a daddy who was a lawyer, meaning that the little blond fink woulda gone and told Mommy and Daddy everything.
(James didn't know that Smalls was actually pretty damn good about keeping his mouth shut when he needed to and only telling his parents enough to explain either where he'd been, what he been doing, or why he'd been gone so late/early. After all, when one was friends with Benny Rodriguez, who liked to play midnight ball games on full moons and the fourth of July and sometimes got into trouble with the cops for being Hispanic and out in the middle of the night, one had to learn to keep their activities a secret from overprotective parents.)
James would just have to challenge them to another baseball game.
Which mean, he'd need to whip his team into shape.
That was the easy part, the hard part would be the actual challenge and scoping out of the Sandlot team.
Once he'd actually managed to scope the other team out, he figured a lot of things out.
One: Ham was a good player, but his skills weren't as good as the others, this was why he umped a lot.
It was actually pretty funny, because the other Sandlot team members where damn fine ball players, which meant Ham was pretty good too, his skills just weren't as refined.
Two: Benny and Smalls where close, like really close.
Close enough to read each others minds, close. James had heard the Rodriguez had taken in a local, neighborhood boy, but he hadn't thought it was the little blond boy that had potential, but wasn't quite up to par with some of the others on the Sandlot team.
Three: Smalls was a damned fine baseball player who could go on to be in the big leagues.
Just like Benny, Smalls wasn't just a good player, Smalls was a great player and with a lot of refinement, Smalls could be going on to play for the awesome teams like the Yankees, the Indians, or the Reds. The difference was, Smalls wouldn't because while he'd follow Benny to the ends of the Earth, baseball was Benny's dream, not Smalls's.
(In years to come, James would find irony in the fact that he'd been right. Benny went on to be a hot-shot baseball player and Smalls the manager/announcer for his team.)
Sandlot~Sandlot~Sandlot
When the challenge was accepted, it was the same terms as last time, the next day, noon, on the Tigers' home field.
And just like last time, when the Tigers where up to bat, Ham did everything he could to distract the batters from the ball and the Sandlot team got every single run.
It lasted about four innings before James got tired of it.
When the Sandlot team was up to bat again, it was Smalls up and Benny on third.
James was pitching and he intended to win this game. In order to do that, he'd need to get Rodriguez out and that was never going to happen, so James went with the next best thing. The batter who was currently lining up his shot.
("He's a good batter." one of James's team members murmured.
James scoffed. "Well, what did you expect? Who do you think taught him? Benny Rodriguez is the best player this side of the neighborhood and that Smalls kid is Rodriguez's best friend.")
Smalls had definitely gotten better and surely had grown up, he still wasn't as tall as Rodriguez or that other tall, gangly, loser, but he was tall.
Smalls dropped into batters stance and James smirk. He may hit the pitch James threw like he'd hit every other ball ever thrown at him, but James would get him out this run if it killed him.
The ball was thrown, it was an epic curve ball.
(Curve balls happened to be Scotty's specialty, outside, inside, low, or high, Smalls could hit all of them.)
Smalls hit the ball and James saw it go all the way to the fence, where it was picked up by Cameron Kellen.
Rodriguez completed his run, but Cameron threw the ball to James and James chased after Smalls, tagging him hard just after Smalls hit first base.
Smalls stumbled against the hit and fall on his ass, clutching his side. James leaned down and whispered, "You don't belong here, geek. Why don't you go back to the library where you belong?" Then he "accidentally" stomped on the blond teen's hand.
An anguished cry of pure torture left Scott Smalls lips and James smirked again.
Then something hit him like a truck and he was on the ground groaning and having no clue what just hit him.
James had no time to recover as he was suddenly bombarded by fists and feet.
When the blows came to a stop, James had a split lip, a truck load of bruises, and what he was sure was a sprained wrist. He fought through the haze of pain and opened his eyes to see a fuzzy jersey with a number on the back kneeling next to another just-as-fuzzy figure in blue and white.
There where other fuzzy figures, but they where lined up in a circle, bent at the waste with their hands on their knees.
James closed his eyes again as he felt the pain take over.
This game was won from the start.
James's chuckle ended in a cough as the Sandlot boy with glasses the others called "Squints" kicked him again.
"Game, set, match fucker," he snapped. "Don't come round our turf again or you'll get far worse than this."
James groaned as "Squints" left and his team members helped him up.
"The hell'd you do that for, James?" asked Jamie.
James clutched his wrist and coughed out a groan. "Just get me to the hospital, stupid." he growled.
As he was lead away from the Sandlot team, James's mind repeated what Squints had said on a loop.
"Game, set, match."
Maybe going after Smalls wasn't the best idea, but it sure as Hell taught me something. You don't screw around with the Sandlot team. Otherwise it'll be "game, set, match" for you.