By Dante Spado
Everyone knows great movies that are based on a true story. American Sniper. Good Fellas. The Wolf of Wall Street. It’s a classic Hollywood formula. You take an interesting event or person, add some drama and a high-profile actor, and you have yourself a good movie. However, it’s not often that this formula is reversed, and something that happened in a movie happens in your real life.
This was the case for me this week when I quite literally lived out the events of The Sandlot. For those unfamiliar with The Sandlot, it’s a movie about a group of boys who play baseball in an abandoned sandlot behind a junkyard that an old man lives in. When the boys lose baseballs over the fence they don’t try to retrieve them because of The Beast that guards the junkyard. That is until one day they hit a ball over the fence that was signed by Babe Ruth. Yes, THE Babe Ruth. For the rest of the movie, they try a handful of schemes to get the ball back from The Beast to no avail. The precious ball seems to be lost for good.
Now, how does this relate to me, you might ask?
I’m a person who likes to take a lot of walks. If it’s a nice day and the sun is out, you can count on me to walk a few miles and enjoy the weather. I love walking the Bolinwood Trail, through campus and on the streets that many students live on past Franklin. Church Street is one of those streets that I frequent, and a little way down the road there’s a small house with a waist-high chain-link fence. Behind that fence lives a brownish-grey pitbull. Over the years when I’ve walked by she always runs up to the fence and lets me pet her and play with her for a bit. She’s a sweet dog, and I always look forward to our visits.
Yesterday I took one of my signature Church Street walks, despite the fact that it was 50 degrees and gloomy out. My hands get HORRIBLE circulation, so when the weather is like that I have to wear a glove with a glove liner under it to keep my hands warm. As I neared the house the dog saw me and ran up to the fence, like she always does. I gave her a few scratches and pets with my gloved-hands. Just as I went to turn away she snagged onto one of my fingers. She wasn’t biting me, it was just a playful thing. I’m pretty sure she saw my waving gloved-hand as a toy. At first, I laughed. But when I tried to pull my hand away, the dog pulled back.
For the next few minutes, I tried to get my hand out of her mouth. She wasn’t hurting me, but she had a tight grip. Eventually, I realized my efforts were fruitless, so I peeled the liner and glove off my hand to escape. My dear four-legged friend proceeded to run around with my gloves, chew on them and shake them around.
I realized it was going to be hard to get these gloves back from her, so I distracted her attention with a stick. She dropped my gloves, but the problem was they were about ten feet away from the fence. We played tug of war with the stick for a few minutes until she tired out. All the while I was debating whether or not to open the fence and retrieve my gloves. I could live without the normal glove, but I needed that liner. My left hand was already frozen after not wearing the glove for a few minutes.
So, after a moment or two of petting the dog, and what I thought was an understanding between us, I decided to open the gate to grab my gloves (I don’t condone trespassing, but I figured I’d be in and out quick).
My sweet pitbull acquaintance then decided to turn into, well, The Beast. She jumped up on me and wrapped her two front legs around my right leg as if she was trying to restrain me. Her playful barks also became much more ferocious. I realized the gloves were a lost cause and I just had to get the hell out of there. After a few seconds of this, her grip loosened and I hopped back over the fence and sped away. I’m not afraid of dogs and I totally understood why she turned on me so suddenly. I was in her space, and she was just doing her job.
I returned home, wrote a note for the owner of the house (who somehow heard none of the commotion) and taped it to the fence. I basically explained what happened, apologized and asked if I could get the gloves back if they were still intact (I decided to leave out the part where I hopped the fence).
A few hours later I got a phone call back from a woman named Vivian. Just like The Sandlot character Mr. Mertle, played by James Earl Jones, Vivan apologized for her dog’s behavior and told me she just gets playful. She also told me the dog’s name is Tank. Yes, a girl dog named Tank. Believe me, she lives up to the name. A little bit after our call I drove over to the house and Vivian and Tank met me outside to return my gloves. Vivan is an older woman, probably mid-70s to early-80s, and as she walked the distance from the house to the fence, Tank jumped up on her. Vivian proceeded to easily swat her away (if only it was that easy for me). Vivian told me she doesn’t mind that I always pet Tank and told me that she probably loves the attention. I assured Tank I’d keep petting her, I just won’t be wearing gloves when I do it. Vivan and I had a good laugh, then went our separate ways.
Much like The Sandlot, this story has a happy ending. I got my gloves back, just like the boys got the Babe Ruth ball back (both were slimy and a little chewed on). I also made a new friend in Vivian, just as the boys did with Mr. Mertle, and I came to a new understanding with Tank, similar to how the boys came to an understanding with The Beast (actually named Hercules). Both dogs just wanted to protect their territory (and have a badass name to show off their strength). When you think about it, the parallels are quite striking.
So, while this was a heck of an experience and a fun story to tell, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to turn it into a movie considering The Sandlot told the same story back in 1993. Though, if you are inclined to experience what I did, watch The Sandlot, or take a walk down Church Street to see Tank. Just don’t wear any gloves.