the sandlot movie

8

The Sandlot (1993)

You’re killing me Smalls! These are s'more’s stuff! Ok, pay attention. First you take the graham, you stick the chocolate on the graham. Then you roast the ‘mallow. When the 'mallows flaming… you stick it on the chocolate. Then cover with the other end. Then you scarf. Kind of messy, but good! Try some!

mrriggerworld  asked:

Imagine Maggie as a softball coach, teaching kids how to throw, how to catch, pushing them to improve their skills, taking the team out for pizza after games, making sure that they remember winning's great, but not the most important thing, listening to problems when necessary, and basically being the coach you still talk about after you've grown up. All the kids insist on vetting Alex after she shows up at one of their practices, because they have to make sure she's awesome enough for Maggie.

It’s not like she’s swimming in free time, but she can’t resist the kids.

The kids with the big eyes and uncoordinated runs, who want to play softball but don’t want to be separated along gender lines from their friends; who don’t want to be chewed out by people three times their age for missing a catch; who want to be part of something, but don’t want to go through the ritualistic humiliation that is most organized sports to get it.

So every Saturday, without fail, her work phone is off. Her captain knows; her captain approves.

I think he might be… you know… in your community, he tells her out of the side of his mouth one day about his nine year old son, and she immediately takes the boy onto the team.

Every Saturday, she pulls her ponytail through the back of a beat up Brooklyn Dodgers cap, and trades in her boots for cleats, and slings two bags more than half her height over her back, full of bats and balls and mitts and caps and water bottles and other assorted treats for the horde of nine year olds who stream onto the field she’s reserved just for them in varying states of readiness, varying states of dress (sometimes in skirts, sometimes in older sibling’s baseball jerseys, once – memorably – in a rabbit onesie because it’s Purim, okay, and who says rabbits can’t play softball?), varying states of excitement to get away from their parents, their homes, their schools, for a few solid hours under the California sun.

The only thing she doesn’t accept on the field is giving up; but she does accept anxiety and she does accept tears, because whoever said there’s no crying in baseball clearly has never played softball with a band of misfit kids who spend so much of their time trying to be perfect that sometimes it takes a while for them to realize that on this field, with these kids, with this coach, they can revel in their uniqueness, in their imperfections.

She has a system worked out for their little bodies slipping into existential crises: the swing set nearby. She holds the crying kid, whoever it may be at the time, and she rocks them, and she wipes their tears and she gives them a bottle of water and some animal crackers, and she sends them with two friends – always two friends – off to the swing set for a few minutes, so they can swing the sad away.

She keeps on eye on the ball and the other on them, and they always sprint back with smiles and giggles, ready to keep going, ready to learn more, ready to be more.

So she teaches them to throw and she teaches them to hit; she teaches them to move their hips right along with the rest of their bodies, and most importantly, she teaches them to let go. To let go of what everyone’s ever told them about perfection, about winning, about success, about their self-worth. Because each of them are stardust, and doesn’t that sound cooler than defining themselves by winners and losers.

They run drills and they support each other when the ball trickles through someone’s feet and they eagerly shout me me me me me! when Maggie stands at home plate with a bat in one hand and a ball in the other, knees bent and ready to aim a hit at each of them in turn.

They play against the other local teams, and even though they don’t always win, they always shock the smug-looking parents and coaches of the other teams, and they always win over some new friends – with the more expensive uniforms and pressure to win constantly on their backs – because they always look like they’re having more fun, like they’re feeling more confident, than anyone else to ever step onto the field.

And the first time Alex Danvers steps onto the field, Maggie’s spare cap backwards on her head and a red bandana sticking out of her back pocket and a nervous but thrilled grin on her face, they decide that they need to interrogate this pretty new lady holding Maggie’s hand and helping her carry her bags.

Because Maggie’s never held another girl’s hand before in front of them before, and she’s certainly never let anyone carry her bags for her before.

“Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Alex. Alex, this is the squad.”

They all form a line, squinting up at her and trying their best to look intimidating, and Alex is forcibly reminded of that Sandlot movie Kara made her watch over and over when they were kids.

She glances at Maggie, who’s regarding them gravely, and she follows her girlfriend’s lead, biting down her amusement and contorting her face into seriousness as she squats down on her haunches to be more on their eye level.

“You all seem like you have something to say to me,” she says, doing her best to not address them like they’re nine, but rather, like they’re a threat to her physical safety.

A girl with Bantu knots and a serious set to her jaw steps forward and gestures at Alex with her red glove.

“Coach Maggie told us she was bringing someone special to meet us. Coach never brings anyone special to meet us.”

“Yeah, even though we’re pretty sure you’re not the first girl she’s dated. She’s pretty pretty!”

“Shhh Andy, let Chase talk, we all agreed!”

Maggie closes her eyes to keep from doubling over with laughter and Alex reminds herself that she can beat a polygraph test.

“So we just want to make sure you’re really special enough for her.”

“Because Coach Maggie’s the best!”

“She brings us for pizza after every game!”

“Even when we lose!”

“And she told off Janelle’s parents when they tried to tell her she couldn’t wear a tie or shop in the boy’s section!”

“Yeah, and look how fabulous I look now!”

“And she – ”

“Order on the field!”

Alex’s eyes open wide and wonders if in a decade or so, Chase would be interested in a job at the DEO.

“So,” Chase continues happily when silence falls immediately. “Tell us why you’re special enough for her. What are your intentions with the best coach ever to coach?”

Maggie bites her lip and stares down at Alex for a moment before squatting next to her.

“Guys, you’re like the inquisition, Alex doesn’t have to – ”

“No, no, Maggie, it’s fine. I love how much they love you.”

She looks squarely at Chase, then at each of the children in turn as she takes a deep breath and speaks.

“And you’re right: Maggie only deserves the most special things and the most special people. Because – and you guys all already know this – she is so, so special. And she’s special to me. The most special. I ask myself the same question every day, you know: am I special enough for her? And honestly? I don’t know. I don’t know if anyone can ever be special enough for Maggie Sawyer. Except maybe you guys, but that’s different. And as for my intentions?”

She turns to look at Maggie and puts a hand on her knee, and Maggie immediately puts her hand on hers to steady herself, because her heart is in her throat and her eyes are watering at Alex’s words.

“My intentions with the best coach ever to coach – the best girlfriend ever to girlfriend – are to try, ever day, to be special enough for her. To care for her – to love her – better than she’s ever been loved. Every day, every night, and every moment in between.

“Ally.” Maggie’s whisper is barely a breath, and it’s almost lost in the whisper-shouting conferring of intensely defensive nine year olds.

After a few long moments of staring into each other’s eyes, a few long moments during which the softball team confers with each other in the consensus-driven style Maggie taught them, Chase nods and clears her throat for Alex’s attention.

“Dr. Danvers, would you like to play ball with us today? We’re going to learn how to slide into second base, and we think it’d be great if you learned with us.”

Maggie beams and kisses Alex’s hand as Alex shakes Chase’s with her other one.

“It would be my distinct honor.”

Mood Board Requests

I  am going to start doing mood boards for these fandoms The Outsiders, Newsies, Stand by me, The mighty ducks, The sandlot, The chronicles of Narnia, Remember the Titans and Miss Peregrines home for peculiar children