It's hard to imagine being twelve years old...
And going without certain things.
Like three months off in the summertime.
Or a good bicycle to cruise the neighborhood on.
More than anything though,
...it's hard to imagine being twelve years old...
...and not having a best-friend like Paul Pfeiffer.
Paul was the nicest kid I ever knew.
He would have done anything for me, I know it.
And I would have done anything for him.
At least, I always thought I would.
- How many homeruns did the Yaz hit in 64?
Fifteen.
Career batting average?
That would be...three, no, wait, two-ninety-eight.
Hobbies?
Kayaking, and...
Trout-fishing!
What could ya say? The kid loved to talk sports.
OK... One more game. Check.
The kid loved to play sports.
OK, now you dare me.
There's nothing stopping this kid!
He's like a machine out there!
More than anything, though...
...the kid loved to talk while playing sports.
He dribbles right. He dribbles left.
He's looking for his sweet-spot.
He stops. He pops.
- Ooh, just off the rim.
But he gets his own rebound, unbelievable!
The fact that Paul sank maybe two buckets per season,
really didn't matter that much.
And Pfeiffer's deliberately working with the ball now.
Ever the faking player.
The title-winning shot was always right around the corner.
And the pressure's on, he looks for his sweet-spot,
here comes his super-supreme fade-away hookshot!
No, Paul! Don't!
"Soviet tanks and bombers..."
"Swept thought the Czech capital of Prague last night...
- You aren't palming, Paul. - I am so! Look!
Pipe down, we're watchin' the news.
"Citizens of Prague who were shocked and stunned by the assault..."
"Offered no military resistance to the overwhelming forces."
"By dawn, the city was under Soviet control."
"More, after this..."
So...
You want to defend your Communists, now?
I happen to be a Socialist.
- Oh, Socialist. I see...
Honey, did you say you wanted iced-tea with dinner?
And for your information, that same oppression
exists in your own backyard.
Do you see a tank in my backyard?
I don't see a tank in my backyard.
Does anyone, not want Brussel sprouts with dinner?
It was funny how those things would go.
Dad would argue, Karen would argue,
and Mom would get the ulcer.
Oh, Kevin, please refill that ice-tray...
- ...when you're finished with it. - The news is on, folks...
Talk about Fascism...
"Once again, our top story."
"There is no joy on the streets Of Prague tonight."
"Soviet forces patrol the city with one purpose in mind"
"...to crush the spirit of the people."
- People...
Of course, we in the free world...
...need not worry about a totalitarian military...
Because all our totalitarians are busy teaching junior high school.
When you look back on your lives...
I want you to remember today...
as the day that we turned you little boys...
- Into young men.
He's got a dufflebag. I think it's basketball.
Unfortunately for Mr. Cutlip,
our spirits were not yet completely crushed.
If you boys want to keep talking,
we can spend the rest of the morning running laps!
Would anyone like to tell me what this is?
Cutlip's lap-dog, Joey Harris. The kid had no self-respect.
A basketball, sir?
It's much more than a basketball Harris.
People...
I've got the whole world in my hands.
- I don't care if you're black, white...
Red, or yellow.
- I'm only interested in seeing one player...
On the basketball court.
And that player's name... is Charlie Hustle. Capiche?
Capiche.
At that stage we would have agreed to nuclear war...
to get on the court and play.
But I can talk and talk strategy.
There's only one way, to learn basketball.
Diagrams.
Once again, Mr. Cutlip had fulfilled the sacred
oath of the public educator.
To take an inherently fun activity,
and sap it of every ounce of pleasure.
So, I want to see heads up offense...
and I want to see hands up defense.
OK?
Questions...
Good.
OK...
Let's see, four captains: Norklen, Simeonee, Rygot, O'Hara.
The rest of you boys, stand up on the line.
But just in case there was a little fun left in basketball...
- OK!
Let's pick teams.
We would now be turned loose, on each other.
- I got Jenkins. - I got Schneider.
Picking teams.
It had to be one of the most grueling rituals of childhood.
- Chiapa. - I'll take Vogel.
But I figured it wouldn't be long now.
I had myself pegged for a second, maybe a third-round draft-choice.
- Evans. - Wheeler.
Platt. I guess.
Alright, anytime now. Yep! I'm ready to play.
Gimme... Coburn, I guess.
That's right,over here, O'Hara. Keep comin'!
Gimme... Arn-
That's it.
Nah, gimme Wilson.
Alright now, Rygot. Come on, man!
Don't forget those biology notes...
I'll take Arnold, I guess...
OK! Alright.
Not too bad... Top half of the class...
There were more than a few poor losers
who were worse off than old Kevin Arn...
Did I say losers?
That's harsh.
This was not good.
It was down to Paul, and Joey Harris.
To be picked late was bad.
But to be picked last?
I guess I'll take Harris.
OK, fine... I'll take Pfeiffer.
As soon as we started to play, I knew something was wrong.
Paul was like a man possessed.
Unfortunately...
He was not like a man possessed of...
...a great deal of athletic ability.
- Hey, Paul.
Sure beats cross-country, huh?
You didn't even pass it to me.
Well, you weren't open.
Oh, yeah, right. I wasn't even being covered.
I'm not that bad, am I?
The question you hoped they'd never ask.
No, you're not... that bad.
You think I stink, don't you?
Paul, I didn't say that. I think you're...
- Good. - No you don't.
Yes I do.
Sure...
Look, Paul... I said you're good.
How many times do you want me to say it?!
You're good, you're good, you're good!
Just forget it, alright?!
Direct and to the point.
Just take the bull by the horns.
I'm here to talk about gym class, sir.
Physical education, son.
Yeah, right. Physical education.
I mean, you're a really great teacher and all, and...
But, anyways... About basketball and everything.
I mean, it's really great, and the diagrams are really great,
and I'm really gonna try hard, and...
That's the important thing. Never...be satisfied.
Jellybean?
But, it's the way we pick teams, sir.
What about it?
Well...
Come on, just spit it out. You're right in here.
Just say it. Simply, plainly, honestly...
- I just don't think it's fair, sir. - What?
- Just don't think it's fair. - "Fair?"
It was an amazing thing to watch Mr. Cutlip's reaction to that word.
"Fair".
It was if that simple utterance was cutting through...
...layers of dead wood.
Then again, maybe not.
Let me get this straight.
You're gonna sit there and tell me, that I'm being unfair?
No, I... I mean...
Life, is not fair, Arnold! The world, isn't fair!
OK! He's getting dangerous.
I have a steel plate... In my head!
- Do you think that's fair?! - No. No, I don't!
I've been teaching this class since before you were toilet-trained.
But if you don't think it's fair...
I'll tell ya what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna make some changes.
And mister... You better like 'em!
Oh, God. That was it. "The look".
You remember that look.
The one that made it perfectly clear, without a word being exchanged,
that your teacher, had it in for you.
It has been brought to my... attention...
That certain inequities exist in my modus operandi.
So today, just to be...
Fair.
I thought we might make a few adjustments.
We're going to have four new captains.
Stetson, Patkus, Grimly, and...
Arnold.
- OK, captains, front and center.
Well, I had to hand it to the guy.
He'd figured out how to take a situation,
that had reached rock-bottom...
And make it far worse.
He'd made me a captain. The perfect torture.
- I got Rygot. - I like Simeonee.
- I got Norklen.
As if it wasn't bad enough,
watching the other kids pick Paul last...
Now...
I was gonna have to do it, myself.
I'll take...
Pfeiffer!
Like a flash, it hit me. I'd buck the system.
Stand up for the little guy.
Win back the best friend I ever had.
Or, say...
Thanks, Kevin! Thanks a lot!
Completely humiliate the best friend I'd ever had.
Alright, Stetson. Come on, we don't have all day...
- I'll take Jenkins. - I'll take Snyder.
Chiapa.
- Come on, Arnold!
Time's wasting.
Suddenly, the scope of what I was about to do came into focus.
I'll take... Harris!
And so, one-by-one...
I picked all the worst kids in the class.
Yeah, it was crazy.
But sometimes, a guy just knows what a guy's gotta do.
And this was one of those times.
And when I was done,
I looked at them. I looked at my team...
And I thought...
"Good...God. What have I done?"
Just aim for the basket.
Time!
What's the matter with you guys?
You're not even getting back on defense.
Harrold. You got to pass in me a little bit.
Hey Man, if you think it's inside link go for it.
What we gotta do is pass the ball.
We gotta have teamwork.
It was like watching sea-monkeys come to life.
Not as impressive as you'd hoped...
But at least they were wiggling.
Alright, gather 'round here.
Maybe, just maybe... This could work.
Sure, we were out-manned. But we had the brains.
If we worked together as a team...
If we used our heads and our hearts, and our souls...
...we could beat these guys.
OK, we can do this.
Unfortunately,
...we were not only very unathletic,
we were also, very stupid.
And we had a very bad attitude.
What are you doing?!
I'm playing basketball. Maybe you've heard of it?
- You're not even trying! - So what? Just leave me alone.
No, I won't! That play was pathetic!
- Who cares... - Look, I know you're not this bad.
Well, maybe I am.
Well maybe if you got off your butt a little bit,
you might be doin' better!
- Gimme the ball. - Nope. Forget it.
- Not if you're not gonna try. - I said, give me the ball.
And then it happened.
It was the miracle.
It was the impossible.
It was the dream come true.
In that instant...
That brief ping of rubber against steel...
Basketball, became fun again.
Well, we still got slaughtered.
But for the first time in a long time, it just didn't seem to matter.
And Paul and I got back to the way things used to be.
The way they would stay...
For many years to come.
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