Twenty years have passed since its debut in theaters, and we're all still in love with The Sandlot.
Why? Because it's a tour de force, you goon. It wasn't just baseball, it was life. We loved and appreciated this mess-around crew of goofs because they represented us—nerds, jocks and everything in between.
So here's a question: Who are the modern equivalents of the sandlot team? It certainly isn't me. I'm way too big a pansy to tell a stranger he "plays ball like a girl."
That leaves us with athletes—you know, the guys who play a game for a living? You're more likely to find a suitable Benny "The Jet" Rodriguez playing ball in a stadium than sitting in a cubicle.
With that in mind, let's recast The Sandlot with athletes—just for fun. You do remember fun, right?
Why: He constantly talks trash but doesn't fare so well at backing it up.
Chael Sonnen and Phillips are pretty boys with God complexes. They'll keep yapping even after they're put into the ground and thoroughly punished.
God made people like Sonnen and Phillips because he bought stock in General Motors a long time ago and needs them to keep moving Corvettes.
Why: They're two guys who are innocent and kind but not exactly cut out for this level of competition.
Fitting in isn't exactly Tebow's or Smalls' forte, but they try hard and are eager to please their teammates and parents. They're not the most skilled guys on the field, and they'll never be picked first in a game of pickup.
That being said, if given a chance, Tebow and Smalls can make a play and surprise you on occasion. People also tend to remember both as more compelling characters than they actually are.
Why: The Gronk isn't paunchy, but he and Ham Porter both share a penchant for not giving a damn and showing off in front of the ladies.
Gronk wouldn't even have to study lines. All you have to do is give him a catcher's mask and instructions to talk trash to anyone he sees.
Just sit back and relax as "you poop in the oven for dinner" jokes start flying.
Why: Because it's hilarious.
Replacing Bertram Grover Weeks with Chris Andersen is irresistible, considering Andersen personifies the inner bad boy that Weeks tries to hide under glasses.
You can fool the rest of them, Weeks, but you can't fool me. You're a gangster in nerd's clothing, and I know it.
Why: They're coiffed pretty boys who rarely get to play first fiddle.
Being the guy on the team who uses the most hair product isn't easy. "Yeah-Yeah" and Ronaldo make up for it through skill and facial expressions, however.
Why: They are exciting, one-dimensional pitchers who are good enough to win with a strong supporting cast.
Aroldis Chapman has more heat than Kenny, who relies on trickery to get his strikes.
That being said, making one of the sandlot boys a pitcher who can throw 105 mph would turn the game against Phillips and the preppy team into an even better spectacle.
Why: Winston squints. Squints squints.
The world wins.
Why: Because Timmy Timmons doesn't take no mess. Also, because he's the cooler older brother of Eli-I-mean-Tommy.
Why: They are goofy, often confused and overshadowed by their big brothers.
Honestly, I just want to see a movie where Eli repeats whatever Peyton says but with more excitement and zero independent thought.
Why: They are wise, immeasurably cool men with spectacles who are always relaxed, no matter the situation.
Bill Russell is playing Mr. Mertle. Deal with it.
Why: Aesthetically similar, both probably have more guys crushing on them than they're aware of.
Lindsey Vonn isn't oiling and oiling, but she does seem to spend a lot of her time at the links vaguely paying attention to her surroundings.
If she were CPR certified, John Daly would pass out in front of her immediately.
Why: They are natural born leaders who are fast and humble.
Chris Paul and Benny know they're great, but they're not satisfied with being recognized for their skills.
Their passion is building up those around them and making them better. That skill—also known as leadership—is their most valuable and underrated asset.
They also take turns sharing eyebrows.
Why: Because nothing will haunt your dreams quite like Saluki.
You thought "The Beast" was scary? Take a gander at Saluki, the mascot at Southern Illinois.
That's a hellhound with a Prince haircut and zero regard for human life. If a ball falls into his yard, he's not just going to eat it—he's peeling its skin off as he reads it the abridged Macbeth.