Sandlot

I became an orphan on my 48th birthday. That's why I returned to North Carolina after 12 years in China. If I didn't have to help settle Daddy's estate, I might never have returned at all.===========I snapped the ball to myself and dropped back as all hell broke loose.Holy shit.So many bodies coming at me. Big bodies. It seemed like the whole team. I couldn't see shit.I didn't look at them. Just like crossing the street in China. I looked down the field. The pine, the blocking sled, my guys, the other guys. I got a glimpse of Rotten Roscoe and I flung the damn ball for all it was worth.Suddenly I was buried in big stinky foreigners - um, fellow Americans of passion and enthusiasm. First I noticed there was no air in my body, then the dizziness, and then the pain. Then the noise. Then my brain latched onto the fact that I was on the ground. My back hurt like hell. My ribs managed to complain a bit too.The large hairy-faced young man atop me wasn't a teammate."You again," I moaned.He grinned. "Welcome home.""Ohh," I groaned. "I haven't been tackled in...""Years? Didja forget we play tackle?""Oh God, I think I did. Oh.""I'm Tater.""Nice to meet you."Then I noticed the happy whooping screaming. That was Rotten Roscoe and Gilroy celebrating a touchdown. Mostly Roscoe."What'd you do?" I asked Tater. "Send your whole damn team after me?""Pretty much. We didn't think you could throw that fast."Rotten Roscoe and Gilroy reached me as I got to my feet, with two defenders following at a walk.I noticed I was the oldest guy out here. And the smallest. Being old felt normal, but being small didn't."I can't play anymore," I warned Rotten Roscoe before he could try some kind of macho chest-bump celebration that would've knocked me on my ass. My hand was on my lower back, old injury, although really the pain was very much in my ass. I hobbled my aching ass off toward Daddy's... toward my barn."Hey," Rotten Roscoe yelled at my ass. "We play again next Saturday."