Everyone's Hero Page #6

Babe, I need to talk to you about Darlin'.

Well, they don't get it right in the papers.

Darlin' and I, we...

We had something special.

You know, kid,

I'd never say this to anyone,

but it was almost like I could tell her

right where I wanted to hit the ball

and she'd make it happen.

- Kind of crazy, right?

- Babe, I have Darlin'.

You have Darlin'?

All right then, hand her over.

Get your hands off her!

Ow!

The dumber they are, the harder they fall.

I was once the prettiest pine in the forest.

Babe always used to say,

"Darlin' you could be a Christmas tree. "

Beautiful story, princess.

Now let's get out of here.

You roll, I'll steer.

Huh?

Hey, what is this? Some kind of joke?

That's not my bat.

And unless you have a pound of roast beef,

that's not even lunch.

Babe, I just had her.

She was right here in my backpack.

Lefty Maginnis stole her.

I brought her all the way back here

from New York.

I got to find her.

Just roll... Just...

- Yank.

- Darlin'!

- Hurry, Yank.

- You got to get... You!

Hello.

Help! Help!

Help!

Help! Help!

- Drive the car!

So tragic.

The indomitable, the unflappable,

the amazing Babe Ruth's last turn at plate

and no magic bat to rely on.

Will he go down in three pitches,

do you think?

- Yank, don't listen to him.

- Yeah. He's just an angry little troll.

He doesn't need a magic bat.

Really? And yet you tried so hard

to return it to him.

What do you say we listen to the radio

and see what's happening?

And it looks like the Cubs

have the Championship in the bag.

The Yankees trail the Cubs

six to nothing with no men on...

- Come on, Babe.

- Babe Ruth is at the plate.

Come on.

Here's the pitch. Swing, and strike three.

That's going to send Babe

back to the bench.

Oh, my Babe.

Which now looks more like

a funeral parlor. The Yankees look beat,

and with only two outs to go,

they probably are.

Well, I believe that's gonna do it

for your Yankees, Yankee.

Oh... I suppose

this bat's not much of a threat now.

I hope you get splinters everywhere.

Of course there's always next year.

Maybe I'll take her

to my cabin on the lake.

There're some beavers there

that'd love to make her acquaintance.

Give it a little nibble.

I suppose I should be heading down to the

field to accept my World Series trophy.

You just stay put, little Yankee.

I'm sure your parents have given up

looking for you by now.

The orphanage should be here any minute

to pick you up.

Just walk in saying,

"I'm the boy who lost Babe Ruth's bat

and cost him the World Series.

"How're you folks doing?"

Sleep on that, Yankee.

So what's the plan, Yank?

- There is no plan, Screwie.

- You mean we're winging it?

- Great. What do we do first?

- Nothing.

There is nothing we can do.

Don't you get it? It's over.

Babe struck out. We failed.

You were right, Screwie. I'm just a kid.

I should have just quit.

That's it? You're laying down your bat?

You know, when I landed in that sandlot,

I thought, "That's it.

There's nothing left to do but rot. "

But then you came along.

And there was all this...

This jumping on trains,

and the thing with the apples

and playing ball with the Tigers.

You made a believer out of me.

I wasn't right, kid. Not at all.

So what, the Yankees lose a game?

Is that why you did this?

So Babe can set his millionth record?

Did Babe teach you how to throw?

Is Babe gonna pay your family's rent?

Why did you do this, Yankee? Why?

- To help my dad.

- Then the game's not over, Yankee.

Are you gonna keep swingin'?

I thought baseball

was a field of broken dreams.

I'm not talking about baseball.

I'm talking about family.

- Darlin', we gotta...

- I heard everything he said.

Yankee, I would be honored to help save

your Daddy's job.

And here I thought you were

a hard-hearted old crank.

- All right...

- And now I come to find out

that under that tough leather shell

is just a gooey caramel center.

- Enough already.

- Fine.

Unless, of course,

you've got something else you wanna say.

You did good, baseball.

Thanks, bat.

- So how're we getting out of here?

- The window.

- It doesn't open.

- Don't you get it? Baseball. Window.

Smasharoonie.

Screwie, are you sure?

Look at me.

I'm covered in stitches already.

Now, let's smash some glass!

Okay, I think

we're softening up the glass a little.

Try again.

Play ball!

Screwie, where are you?

Don't worry about me. Get to the Babe.

I'll be all right.

Hey, a foul ball.

I just can't shake that, can I?

Whoa!

Hey, watch it, watch it! Hey!

Whoa!

You see, baseball is about teamwork,

a certain level of dignity...

What the?

Hey, kid!

Stop that kid.

Don't go down there.

Lou, that kid, I... I know that kid.

You remember that kid. That's the...

That, that... It's that kid.

Wait a minute.

There seems to be some sort of

commotion developing in the stands.

The ushers are chasing someone

through the crowd.

I can't quite see who it is.

Well, the ushers appear to be chasing

a boy carrying a baseball bat.

He looks to be about 10 years old.

He's wearing a Yankees baseball cap,

And let me tell you, folks,

he's really giving the Cubs personnel

a run for their money.

Hey, kid!

Strike three! What the hey?

- Move! Move!

- Come on! Come on!

Aren't you playing, huh, Yank?

Hey, kid. What are you doing here?

Come here, get off the field!

- I just need to get this to Babe.

- Hey, hey.

Hey, what're you trying to do?

Well, well, well. I'm...

It's really my Darlin'.

- It's my Babe.

- Babe, here she is.

- Just like I told you.

- No! Stop! Umpire.

I demand you call this game immediately,

if not sooner, 'cause of shenanigans.

Yeah, not so fast, short stuff.

Your man Lefty stole my bat.

Is that your bat? I didn't...

- Tell him, Babe. You tell him.

- What?

That's the most absurd thing

I've ever heard!

Isn't that a penalty?

Shouldn't they forfeit?

Yankees, you got two minutes

to get your batter in the box

or you'll forfeit the game.

All right, right.

Hold your... Hold your horses.

It's not okay. We're in bad shape.

- Yankee. Yankee.

Do you notice where you're standing, boy?

Home plate in the middle

of the World Series.

Now how does that feel, slugger?

You're looking good, Yankee.

- Don't you think so, Babe? Babe? Babe!

- Darlin'.

- Big man, look over here!

- Darlin'.

- What are you doing?

- I'm calling to Babe.

Yeah, look at this team.

We look like we're already beat.

Who can we put at the plate

that will set this place on its ear?

Keep this team from

throwing in the towel.

Look at the boy

standing on home plate.

Ain't he something? Listen.

Hey! You hear me talking to you?

- Huh?

- Why don't you put him in the game?

Babe, look at us.

I know who's gonna bat. Him.

Babe, forget it. This isn't Little League.

It's the World Series.

He's just a kid.

This kid brought Darlin' from New York

to Chicago all by himself.

If he can do that, he can do anything.

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