I don’t remember exactly the first time I saw The Sandlot. It wasn’t in theaters. We didn’t go to theaters often as a family; frugal. We probably rented it from the local dollar video store. Yes, they actually had video stores back in the early 90’s. I remember being in awe of the movie, a summertime classic. It came out when I was roughly the same age as the kids in the movie. It was about my life, I thought. Except the kids in the movie played baseball. My friends and I played basketball. Similar to the movie, though, we didn’t play organized ball, or Little League, like the middle-class white kids. We played on the local asphalt playgrounds until sunset. Further, I admired the fact that Benny “The Jet” Rodriguez looked like me, he was brown like me. Did he speak Spanish at home, too? For once, someone who looked like me was on T.V., and they weren’t a gang member or criminal. The Sandlot crew were all just kids, though, exploring youth. That’s what I appreciated the most about the movie. Little did I know the real world comes at you fast. Anyway, anytime I see The Sandlot on T.V., as I’m skipping through the channels, I can’t help but remember those summer southern California nights of youth, watching The Sandlot with my brothers and friends, wishing I was Benny “The Jet.” Wishing I was part of their crew.