Dream Team

one

"Strike one!"

The sun beat down on the boys in the field, offering mercy in the form of slight brushes of wind against their dark uniforms. A tall, well-built boy stood on the mound with a baseball in his hand, staring intently at the boy standing in the batter's box. The white of the boy's uniform was splotched with dirt stains as sweat dripped down his face and neck. The catcher tapped two fingers on the inside of his right thigh and nodded as he readied.

The boy on the mound took a deep breath and zeroed in on the Catcher pitching, waiting.

"Strike two!"

The bases were full, the white uniformed players stood there expectantly as the batter brought his bat back again. It was their last chance. The catcher made a fist and readied once more. The Pitcher rolled his neck and took one last deep breath before pitching what he hoped was his final ball of the game.

A smile spread on the Pitcher's face before the final call could ring throughout the diamond. The thump of the Catcher's glove having given it away.

"Strike three! Out!"

The stadium rung out in cheers and the Pitcher was bombarded by the other dark uniformed players. "Good job Samson! And you said you were nervous about this game." His best friend and fellow baseball player, dear Simon of which he'd known since they were in diapers, pat him on the back. His hand quickly retreated and was wiped onto Samson's shirt.

"Go figure, you sweat like a pig." Simon said, feigning disgust.

Samson let out a laugh, "Like you're much better, second base isn't much of a chill spot either."

Simon shamelessly raised his arm and sniffed, recoiling in horror at the terrible smell. "Sammie," Simon said, eyeing the small line of girls with posters starting to form towards the exit of the field, "Race you to the showers!"

Samson huffed and raced after his friend, barely remembering to drop the ball in the white bucket clearly labelled 'baseballs' during his rush to win. Samson had always been competitive, he'd known this since he was seven and Simon had offered a race up to the top of the one hill in their neighborhood both of their parents had forbidden them from going on.

He had accepted, of course, he wasn't going to back down from a race, he was one of the fastest kids in the grade and maybe even the school, beaten only by the giant fifth graders with legs that Simon swore were as long as his whole body. Samson did win, but they also found out why they weren't allowed on the hill when they came in contact with a very scary, and very poisonous looking snake. They would come to find out that it was just a corn snake, but they were still scarred for life.

Samson pushed through the small groups of girls waiting with smiles and most likely their so-called "sure fire way" to get him to fall in love with them. When he finally reached the locker room, Simon was there, smiling as usual and holding towels.

"Alright Cap," Simon tossed one of the towels at Samson's chest, chuckling slightly at the small groan Samson let out, "Let's hit the showers."

Samson kicked off his cleats and pulled his shirt over his head earning a low whistle from his friend, "If I didn't see you as a brother, I would've tapped that by now."

Samson snickered, "I know, you've only told me a thousand times."

"Honestly, it's because I can't believe you haven't gotten laid yet." Simon pulled off his own jersey and started to unbutton his pants as Samson answered.

"Not everyone can be as confident as you." He mumbled as he tugged at his belt.

"I know. I guess I keep forgetting you're a big man who can't get laid." Simon said, teasingly pinching one of Samson's cheeks before stepping into one of the nearby showers and pulling the curtain closed.