How “Boys Sandlot” Changed My Life
My Grandma and Grandpa owned about 4 movies on VHS from the 1980s and 90s that were already a bit dated by the time I started watching them when I stayed at their house. The stories of Moonstruck, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and Tootsie have all stuck with me over the years — I can hardly go a day without quoting the first two — but another story truly changed the way I look at the world: The Sandlot.
This year marks the 25th anniversary of the tweenage-boy classic, which toddler Amy called “Boys Sandlot.” The story, for those unfamiliar, takes place in the summer of 1962, and is centered around a bunch of boys who really just love baseball. All their days are filled with baseball, except for the occasional pool trip, and the nights are for hanging out. There’s some more narrative complexity than that — there’s a new kid in town who’s never played before, they make s’mores, there’s a giant, baseball-eating monster dog, the usual stuff — but that’s not the kind of stuff that affected me. The lessons about friendship, growing up, and being passionate, that had real impact. Maybe the s’mores too.
“Boys Sandlot” was an unlikely favorite for me. To sum up the beginning of my life, I was a cheerleader 3 years in a row for Halloween, with a different costume every year, and in kindergarten I told my teacher that her boots didn’t match with her skirt. There is not a tomboyish bone in this body, making my affinity for The Sandlot that much weirder and stronger. On this major anniversary, I wonder, why did it resonate with me?
I’m really not sure. Today, I look back and see a diverse group of friends all in different stages of growing up. Benny is cool and composed, warm and mature, whereas Yeah-Yeah can’t seem to formulate many opinions or ideas of his own yet. Ham is larger than life, Squints quite scrawny (although impressively loud). Still, they see each other as equals, and value the strengths each of them brings to the team. In considering my relationship with the film(is it a film? We’ll go with it), this diversity of spirit allowed me to explore myself and my attributes and idiosyncrasies, as well as make friends with a whole host of their own — it taught me not to judge, but to embrace the quirks that make us human.
The team shares an unspoken code of values, most evident when they put their opposing team — who appear wealthier and snobbier, judging by their uniform bikes and, well, uniforms — to shame in insults and in a scrimmage of sorts. (Unfortunately, Ham’s closing dig, “You play ball like a girl,” plays on a nasty sexist stereotype. Hey, can’t win ’em all.) They’re a caring and passionate bunch, united by a love of the game.
Every experience feels like a new beginning for these boys, as well as the audience (including toddler Amy). That feels overly romantic, considering one of those experiences they share is vomiting chewing tobacco after a carnival ride. Never got used to that scene. Still, joining Timmy and Tommy and DeNunez on their summer exploits made it feel like I was with them, learning everything they learned (one big thing: always have a backup ball). All it took to pull me in was the simple idea that friendship, especially those in which you look for common passion, is the most valuable piece of growing up.
In large part because the story wasn’t really mine to connect with so profoundly, I can’t quite isolate a moment in my teenage years when I truly identified with any of the characters — except my regular utterance, “You’re killing me, Smalls!” a la Ham, a reference very few of my friends recognize. However, something that sticks, and a quality I hope I’ll appreciate well into my old age, is Scotty Smalls’ vitality; he knows nothing about the one thing that all his new friends worship. He’s naive and impulsive and ever the idealist. As a young adult, that really pinches a nerve, and enlightens the whole story — at no point are any of the boys cynical; rather, they look at the world as how they want it to be. My memories of “Boys Sandlot” will inevitably fade, but the boys’ positive outlook on friendship and the zest for life has most certainly reshaped my worldview. ❑
