The first time we're able to go back to the sandlot, after everyone was over being sick as dogs, I was so revved up to go that I was itching to hit that ball. The impact was strong and sweet. However, what I realized a split second later was that the ball was going in two different directions… and wasn't exactly whole anymore. Scotty caught what looked like the stuffing as the skin flopped useless to the ground. I would have been impressed if I wasn't so pissed that I busted our only ball. We all gather around to inspect the damage, but it was quite clearly demolished.

"Oh, man."

"I don't believe it."

"Bitchen'."

I hear people say around me. I didn't care. "Nah, it ain't." I say, unimpressed. We clearly bought a defective ball that was poorly made. I was starting to regret giving away what money I had the night of the fair.

"Come on, Benny man. Maybe two or three guys in history ever busted the guts out of a ball. Must be an omen."

I rolled my eyes annoyed. "All's it means is that we can't play no more. I mean it's already 12:00, and I just ruined the whole day for us."

"No, you didn't. I mean, that's the most amazing thing I ever saw."

Scotty was right in front of me. I could hear him chewing away on his Bazooka bubble gum, and he, like everyone else was staring at the ball skin, enraptured like the others. I felt emotionally exhausted. These guys clearly couldn't see things from my point of view. I was tempted to rest my head right on top of Scotty's in defeat, but I resisted. "Anybody got any money?" I asked. I knew the answer, but I was trying to make a point. Sure enough, everyone said 'no'. "Then it ain't okay, 'cause now we can't play no more."

"Yeah, we can." I hear Scotty say in front of me.

I was shocked, "What, you got 98 extra cents lying around, Smalls?" I didn't mean to sound so snide, but I was still pissed.

"No, but I got a ball."

I didn't even have time to register what he said before he was being shoved out of the circle by everyone as they all told him to go get it. As he ran back to his house, I had no reason to doubt him, since I did see him playing catch with that one guy. It wasn't long before he was running back

"I got it. I got the ball guys." This kid was literally my hero for the day! "Here, Benny. I got it."

"Bitchin'. Your ball, you're ups. Here you go." I tell Scotty as I hand him my bat. I know he could do more practice at bat. I've been keeping him in the field too long.

I hear his 'Okay' as I run to take his spot in Left Center, and Ham shouts "Batter up!"

From the first strike, I could tell that Ham was distracting him like he does to everyone at bat. I could tell Scotty was trying to focus and not let it get to him. It was then that I saw him center into the same level of focus that I've been trying to perfect. His swing collided with the ball, and it was going far. My heart was racing as I saw the ball fly my way. I was trying to move into its path, "Oh man. Oh man." My legs were running, but it was no use. The ball sailed straight over the fence. That was the second ball we lost today, but I actually didn't care. His form was perfect! It was a beautiful shot! And it was his first home run hit ever! I was so proud of him, that I couldn't be mad at him for losing it.

I was still at the fence when I heard, "Hey, uh, Smalls, third base is that way." and I could have sworn I heard him say, "Oh no. Oh no…"

Still excited, I started to move back to the group. "Yeah! Nice hit, Smalls. Nice hit. Yeah!" Looking at him, I think he's a little freaked that he lost the ball. He probably thought I was going to razz on him for losing the ball still, since I made such a big deal about it earlier. I decided to ham up my praise to ease his nerves, "It's outta here! Who's got the big bat now, boys?" But he was still looking like a truck hit his dog. The others started cheering, but he looked like he couldn't hear anyone. "Smalls?" I called to him starting to get a little worried as he walked slowly towards the fence.

"You forgot to turn. You go to third base! …Smalls! What the hell is he doing?" I hear Ham behind me. His first home run, and he didn't even finish the route, because he felt bad for losing the ball.

"Maybe the shock of his first homer was just too much for him." I heard Weeks say, and other's agreed. I shook my head, knowing that wasn't the reason. But I was starting to feel worried about Smalls. I've seen him cry, looking like the whole world was against him, and I never want him to feel that way ever again.

I move towards him as he just stares at the fence. He's in his own little world. I gently call to him. "Smalls? Smalls."

Eventually, he turns around, but the trepidation still remains. "We got to get that ball back." He says.

I lower my head. I couldn't help but chuckle as I heard the others start to laugh as well. "Oh, yeah, right. Good one Smalls."

"Yeah, good one Smalls." I hear them say. I knew that wasn't helping.

"Hey shut up." I tell the others. Not surprising, they all quieted down. Lemmings. I put my attention back to Scotty, "Forget about it, man. We'll just get another ball." I turn around, preparing to wrap it up for the day.

"No, you don't understand!" He was starting to sound a little hysterical.

"Sure we do. You feel bad 'cause you belted a homer. Now we can't play no more." I was hoping that seeing that I wasn't mad about it would help him ease up.

"No, you don't understand! That wasn't my ball!" He shouted.

Now I was confused. Clearly I was not the only one. Squints asked the question we were all thinking. "What do you mean that wasn't your ball?"

"It was my stepdad's." Ok, so he might be in a little bit of trouble with the man who nailed him in the face. I can understand some of that trepidation now. He went on. "I stole it from his trophy room." Ok, definitely in for some trouble. "It was a present or something. Somebody gave it to him. But we gotta get it back! He's gonna kill me!" He nearly shrieked.

I did feel bad for him. I felt partly responsible. If I hadn't have made such a big stink earlier, he might not have thought to do that. Again, he wanted to feel like a part of the team, and contribute. At the risk of angering his old man, even.

Squints was the one who spoke, "Listen to me, Smalls. It's a matter of life and death. Where did your old man get that ball?"

"What?" He was clearly struggling to remember. "I don't know. Some lady gave it to him. Why?"

"What? Some Lady?"

"Yeah, she even signed her name on it. Some lady named… Ruth… Baby Ruth."

My heart and brain both froze. Everyone else must have felt the same thing as we all shouted, "BABE RUTH!?" And without a second thought, we all made a break for the fence. Struggling to find some purchase on the rickety metal, and try to peer over into the foreboding yard.

We briefly could see the ball, but it wasn't long before a ginormous paw reached out to grab it. We were all so shocked, that we all let go and backed away quick as lightning.

"The Beast got it!"

"You're dead as a doornail, Smalls!"

"You're dead as a doornail."

"Smalls, you mean to tell me that you went home and swiped a ball that was signed by Babe Ruth, and you brought it here and actually played with it?"

"Actually played with it?"

Timmy and Tommy were doing a fine job of speaking for the rest of us who have clearly lost our voices due to shock.

"Yeah, but I was gonna bring it back." Smalls tried to explain.

We were all still so miffed at the very idea. It was taboo, blasphemy, even sacrilegious. "But it was signed by Babe Ruth!" Squints shouted.

"Yeah. Yeah. You keep telling me that. Who is she?" Smalls asked.

That was it. That was all I needed to hear. My brain didn't even bother to process anything after that. I just let the others have their say. I couldn't look at Smalls for a while.

"What?... What?!"

"The Sultan of Swat!"

"The King of Crash."

"The Colossus of Clout."

"The Colossus of Clout."

"BABE RUTH!" They all shouted as I kept my head down.

"THE GREAT BAMBINO!" Ham shouted.

I could just hear the gears turn and click in Scotty's mind as he finally connected the dots and shouted. "Oh, my God! You mean that's the same guy?"

"YES!" They all confirmed.

I finally lifted my head in order to educate him. "Smalls, Babe Ruth is the greatest baseball player that ever lived. I mean, people say he was less than a god, but more than a man. You know, like Hercules or something. That ball you just aced to The Beast is worth…" I thought about it for a moment. "Well, more than your whole life, man."

I know it needed to be said, in order for him to understand, but I felt bad when his legs gave out from under him, and he said, "I don't feel so good."

The least I could do was prevent him from fainting. We all gathered around him, fanning him with out hats. "Uh-oh, fan him."

"Give him air, give him air."

He turned desperate eyes on me. "We have to get that ball back."

I felt helpless. I thought about the first day that I introduced him to the guys and I could tell that he was lying to Ham. I didn't blame him then for not knowing about the Babe, and it wasn't my ball he lost. He was asking for help, as a friend, even though he knows the gravity of his actions now.

I thought quick, "Alright! When does your old man get home from work?" I asked.

"He's gone on business. Out of town. But he could be back anytime."

At least that was a start. I got an idea that would at least buy us a little time. "Alright." I say as I gather my thoughts and put my hat back on. "Find out when." I tell him before turning to the others. "And guys, spread out and look for bottles and cash 'em in. We need 98 cents. We gotta buy us a ball."

We break and start scrounging. Two hours later, we gathered enough money to get a ball. As soon as it's in my hands, I frantically tear it from the package. "Give me something to write with." Weeks tries to shove a pencil in my hand. "Not a pencil, a pen!" Next to me, I here Scotty tell me he's got a pen. As I try to stop my hands from shaking, I try to write the words 'Babe Ruth' on the round surface while ignoring the talking around me.

"I don't know, Benny, man."

"Yeah, yeah, boy, that looks pretty crappy."

I snapped, "It doesn't matter what it looks like. His mom's never gonna know the difference. This'll just buy us some time, you dorks." I shake my head at their brainlessness. I quickly shove the ball into Scotty's hands and watch him run off home to replace it. We all agreed to break for the day in order to try to come up with some plan to get the ball back.

We reconvened in the tree house the next morning, only to discover that none of us had any ideas whatsoever. At least the fake ball fooled his mom. That was at least something in our favor. As we sat in silence, I snuck a glance in Scotty's direction. I could tell he hardly got any sleep. I didn't blame him.

Breaking us all out of our deep thoughts. Scotty piped up. "Hey, I got it! Why don't we just go over, and knock on the door and ask Mr. Mertle if he can get it for us?"

"Are you out of your mind?" Squints exclaimed. "Mr. Mertle's the meanest old man that ever lived. He's the one who made The Beast eat that kid." Scotty looked down defeated. "It's not an option, Smalls. Forget about it!" I thought Squints was being a bit harsh with him.

Scotty responded, "Oh, okay. Sorry. I… I will." He looked quite submissive.

"Let's just look out the window."

"Good idea."

We all get up to look. It wasn't long before The Beast tossed out the very ball we're aiming for. Freaked out again, we all back up.

"He's daring us."

"We're on his territory now."

I finally speak, "Anybody got any bright ideas?" This led to the most bizzar series of events… I don't even care to describe. One lame brain idea after another blew up in our faces. Some of them, quite literally. Since I didn't have any better ideas, I just went along with each of them. Four days, and no luck except that no one was seriously hurt. Emotionally scarred, perhaps, but not permanently.

I've got to admit, the erector set device Scotty created was unbelievable. I really thought that was the best idea yet. "We're gonna get it. Come on" I said quietly, waiting for the device to toss it right to us.

Just then, I hear Squint's panicked, "Fire! Fire! Fire!" And the ball was airborne. It was high, and sailing right in my direction. My heart was pounding as I shout, "I got it! I got it! I got it!" But before it just barely clears the line of the fence, I see the ginormous head of The Beast as he virtually swallows the ball in mid-air. I was so shocked, my brain shut down. I barely even registered that Scotty's device got destroyed.

When I saw him come down with that defeated look, something in me just wanted to go over and protect him. Assure him that everything was going to be alright. But I could tell that he wouldn't have heard a word I said. I could tell that he was already going through different scenarios of his impending doom. He didn't even look at us as he left, and he didn't say anything.

Later that night, I was wondering if it might help if I was there for him. What would happen if I took the blame or at least shared it. I didn't know. Maybe this was why I was better at baseball than anything else. When it came to school, facts, people, and things… I'm not that bright. My grades are mediocre at best.

I go to sleep, still thinking about Scotty and his situation. I thought I was going crazy when the next thing I knew, the ground was shaking. But instead of believing it was an earthquake, I could tell that it was caused by someone. "Who's there?" I asked, getting out of bed.

Just then, the door to my closet opens to reveal none other than the Babe himself. My hero. I blink trying to readjust my eyes. He speaks, "Now don't go pee in your pants, kid. I'm just here to give you a hand." He walks towards me, and I hear the scratching of his cleats on my hardwood floors.

"B-but you're…" I couldn't finish.

"Dead? Legends never die, kid."

"But you're really him! You're the Babe!" He just nods. "The Sultan of Swat. The King of Crash…"

"Of Crash." He finishes with me. "And a hundred other dopey names. Forget about that stuff, kid. We ain't got much time. I'm here 'cause you're in some kind of pickle, right?"

I confirmed it. "Yeah."

"A baseball with my John Hancock on it went over a fence and you can't get it back, right?"

"Yeah, right." I was surprised he knew all of this. It made me wonder about a million things, but I waited for him to continue.

"Then just hop over there and get it." He turned to go.

"Wait, wait!" I call to him as my brain remembered why that wasn't such a good idea. "I can't."

"Can't what?"

"I can't go into that backyard."

"Why not?"

"There's a beast back there."

He puffs the smoke from his cigar. "What kind?"

"A giant gorilla-dog thing that ate one kid already."

"Is that a fact?" He didn't look like he believed me. "Sit down, kid. Sit down." I moved to sit on the bed while he sat across from me. "Let me tell you something, kid. Everybody gets one chance to do something great. Most people never take the chance, either 'cause they're too scared or they don't recognize it when it spits on their shoes. This is your big chance, and you shouldn't let it go by. I mean, remember when you busted the guts out of the ball the other day? Someone's telling you something, kid. If I was you, I'd listen."

I nod as I look down. "Yeah. But what?" I ask a little bothered.

He just laughs… more like cackles… at me "You're the one with the rubber legs." He pats said legs, "Figure it out." He says as he stands up. He takes a look at the card he picked up earlier. "Henry Aaron. I don't know why, but can I have this, kid?"

Like I was going to deny him anything, "Sure, yeah."

"Thanks." He puts the picture in his pocket before he heads back to the closet.

"Wait." I say as I get up. He turns to look back at me. "You're saying I should hop over that fence and pickle The Beast?"

"Think about that kid. I'll see you later." With that, he disappears back into the closet. In the distance, I hear the sound of a roaring crowd, as his voice travels over all of them. "Remember, kid, there's heroes and there's legends. Heroes get remembered, but legends never die. Follow your heart, kid, and you'll never go wrong."

With that, I startle awake. I had a fresh sheen of sweat, and my heart was racing, but I remembered everything. I decided to hop out of bed, and write down everything we said before I forgot it. It felt like more than just a dream. I may not be superstitious, but this was too… I don't even know how to describe it.

First of all, he knew about the ball. So then why didn't he mention The Beast? Second of all, he spoke in riddles. I'll need to mull all of this over, but for now, I had the simple, but difficult solution. I need to Pickle with The Beast.

I rush to get dressed, and grab a few things I know I'll need. I didn't know what was going to happen today, but I knew that something big was going to happen, one way or another.

I run to Scotty's house. Instead of using the front door, I knock on his bedroom window. It didn't take long for him to open it. I could tell he didn't sleep again. When he opened the window, I spoke in a panted rush. "I had a dream. Get dressed. We're going to the sandlot, come on."

"Ok, uh-wait. I'll get my stuff." I hear him call from the window. I wait for him to scramble his stuff together, and meet me out front. With his help, we round up all the guys. From there, we head out. At the sandlot, I set down my box of new shoes and quickly switch them out. Call me stupid, but I wanted the tread on them to be the freshest they could be in order for me to attempt what I was about to do. My mom got them for me a while back, and I've been saving them until the time my old set was beyond all hope. But now… now was the right time. I could feel it. It was almost symbolic. As I shifted in the new, unbroken P.F. Flyers, I gently placed my old loyal shoes in the now empty box, and I prepared myself for what I was about to do. I start to walk towards the fence when I hear a voice behind me.

"Benny wait." Scotty said. I stopped and slowly turned back to him look him in the eyes. "It's okay. It was my fault." I exhale and briefly look away. "You don't have to do this."

I continue to look at him as I tune out the others. I know this. I know I don't have to do this. This is not my responsibility. But at the same time, as I look at Scotty, I remembered some of what the Babe told me. This is your big chance, and you shouldn't let it go by. Scotty is willing to take the responsibility. Even though I know how much it plagues him. He doesn't want me to come to harm. But that just solidifies my resolve. I want to do this. I wanted to protect him, and I wanted to be his hero. Only this handful of boys will ever see what I'm about to do, so in the grand scheme of things, I suppose it doesn't amount to much. But watching Scotty grow in this summer alone…. It makes me want to be a part of that. Part of his growth… his life.

I look at him with a fondness I never felt before. "Yeah, I do, Smalls." I tell him. "I have to do this." I may not fully understand why I have to do this, but I just know it beyond a shadow of a doubt. I turn and climb onto the old car in order to reach the top of the fence. With one final glance at Scotty, I remember more of the Babe's words. Heroes get remembered, but legends never die. Follow your heart, kid, and you'll never go wrong. Scotty still looked so worried for me. I gave him a thumbs-up to help reassure him, and for that moment, it felt like it was enough.

With a leap and a bit of a struggle, gravity pulls my feet to the forbidden ground. At that point, my brain shuts off, and I don't even think. I just act. The Beast emerges from his cave, carrying the very ball I sought. We both stare at each other, and I try my best to channel my fear and doubts into adrenaline for my legs to use. My body just had one action… 'run'. I skid and close my hand around the prize, and quickly retreat, but after I clear the fence, I get only a two second reprieve before I realize The Beast's chain broke and he's jumping the fence after me. "Oh. Shit!" I say as I start running again. This wasn't just a pickle, it was a full on chase to the death! I didn't stop before I was nearly mauled, cleared the fence again, and witnessed the fence crashing down, creating a sandstorm of dirt. "Look out!" I cried too late. When the dust settled, I could just barely here the strangled whimper of a pained whine. It took a moment for my eyes to focus, but when they did, I could see that The Beast was trapped under the fallen fence. "Oh, man." I say at my wits end. I'm out of breath, and I'm not sure what to do.

Just then, Scotty gently crosses over and starts trying to lift the heavy metal fence. "Come on, guys. Help me. Please!" He says. They just stand there staring at him. He looks back at me. "Benny! Benny, help me, please! He's hurt!"

I wince at his begging tone. That thing tried to eat me not five minutes ago, yet he couldn't stand to see the thing in pain, despite it supposedly being a kid-eating monster. I couldn't just stand there with Scotty asking for my help, so I go over to him and chuck the ball at Ham. "Come on. I can't lift it." I bend down and use what's left of my strength to help him.

We both manage to lift it enough for The Beast to get out, and the rest of my strength leaves me. I look over in time to see Scotty stare face to face with The Beast. I jump up, wondering if there's going to be trouble, and I nearly faint when the dog starts licking Scotty all over his face. I stare open mouth as the dog walks over to a little alcove. As we all follow, we stumble upon the animal's hoard of baseballs. It looked like a treasure trove to me. "Now we can play forever." I say. Partially due to the sheer number of balls in there, but also for the fact that we don't need to worry about The Beast now that our eyes have been opened.

Scotty pets the dog and grabs him gently by the collar, as I get the Babe ball back from Ham. I watch as he starts towards the door, and I soon follow. I notice no one else decided to come with us. We know the dog is not a monster, but we still don't know about the keeper. Scotty however does not look perturbed as he knocks.

A giant man in overalls comes out. But something was off. "Hello?" He asks in a deep voice.

I hear some of the guys behind me, but Scotty pushes on. "Um. We… we brought your dog home."

"Hercules? How'd he get out?" This was where the shouting and mayhem was going to come. I was sure.

Scotty pressed on. "Um, uh, well, uh… We, uh…"

I decided to save him again, "Well, what happened was, we hit a baseball into your yard. We tried to get it back."

"So you're the ones that've been making all that racket."

Yup, we're dead. "Yes, sir." Scotty confirmed, more composed.

The man opened the door. "You get it?"

"Um, y-yeah." Scotty said as I handed him the ball. He handed it to the man.

He felt the ball, and I could now see that the man was actually blind. I didn't say anything. The man… Mr. Mertle spoke again. "Well, first time that anybody ever got the best of old Hercules." He sounded amused. "Why didn't you just knock on the door? I'd have gotten it for you."

I didn't even have to turn my head to know that the others were razzing on Squints for being an idiot. Although, I feel like an idiot too. Scotty had that idea on the first day, and I didn't even back him up. It would have saved us a lot of trouble and turmoil.

Mr. Mertle just laughed and moved further inside. "Thanks for bringing him home. Come on in. We'll talk about this baseball. Come on." I followed after Scotty without even thinking about it. We ended up in the man's office where there was baseball paraphernalia everywhere.

"You're in trouble, aren't you, son?" Mr. Mertle asked.

I tried to come up with something to say, but Scotty beat me to it. "Yeah, well, uh, that was my stepdad's ball." I look down at him as he explained. "I took it without asking. It was signed by Babe Ruth."

"George signed this?" Mr. Mertle asked surprised.

"George Herman Ruth? Yeah." I guess somebody finally did some homework.

"I take it back. You're not in trouble. You're dead where you stand." He said. I could just feel the trepidation returning to Scotty. I was still worried for him. "Hold on." Mr. Mertle crossed over to a cabinet. He carefully grabbed a ball, and sat down at his desk. "Here, I'll trade ya."

I almost laughed. Scotty looked a little confused. "That's really nice of you, but that ball really is signed by Babe Ruth." I defended Scotty.

"So's this one, with the rest of the 1927 Yankees."

I couldn't believe it. I came up to examine it for myself. Scotty and I grabbed it at the same time, both of us avidly looked at it. I soon made out the signatures. "Oh, man. Murderer's Row! Lou Gehrig!"

"Babe Ruth!" Scotty looked back at Mr. Mertle who was just smiling away. "But why would you trade? That one's all chewed up."

"I got a lot of good stuff. Look at that stuff." Scotty moves to explore. "Besides, you need it more than I do."

Scotty looks at some of the things in the cabinet where the ball came from. I saw his back stiffen and he slowly turned as though afraid to breath. "You knew Babe Ruth?" He asked. I held my own breath at that.

"George? I sure did. And he knew me. He was almost as great a hitter as I was. I would have broken his record, but…"

"You went blind." Scotty finished for him as he moved back to my side.

"Yep. I used to crowd the plate so the strike zone almost disappeared." He scoffed in his reminiscence. "Pitcher's hate that." I smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. "That's the way I played. 100% all the time. Baseball was life. And I was good at it, real good. And then…. one day… a high fast one, and pow! Lights went out." I wince at the thought. That sort of thing would break my spirit and I know I would die inside. "I don't think we could take this ball." I say.

He raises his hand, "I'll tell you what. You guys come by once a week and talk baseball with me, we'll call it an even trade."

Scotty and I look at each other, but I knew we were both thinking the same thing. It was confirmed when Scotty reached over to shake Mr. Mertle's hand. "Deal!"