Stockton, California, October 5, 1989, Clairmont Elementary sandlot.

Belinda Carlisle's 1989 song, "Runaway Horses" plays in El's mind as clear as the first time he heard it on his cassette Walkman player between English and chemistry class.

(Baby, the wind has changed again)

The song unlocks emotions that rekindle a few key memories from where he draws inspiration.

From across left center field, El spots the shadow of a spectator hiding within the corners of his memories, but he thinks nothing of it.

Simultaneously, half a nation away, it is the top-of-the ninth inning in Wrigley Field as Robby Thompson steps to the plate on national television with his team, the San Francisco Giants, down five runs versus the Chicago Cubs in game two of the National League Championship series.

With two outs and a full count, Thompson, the all-star second baseman, sends a wicked line drive over the left center field fence that forestalls the celebration in Chicago.

(Suddenly, all of my fences have broken)

Like his boyhood inspiration, El responds...

(I'm cutting the reign of my life...!)

to his moment.

(Whoa! Runaway Horses!)

The Universe briefly deviates for two separate batters: one in which a nation of baseball fans applauded Robby's "go down swinging" spirit, and the other in which a handful of neighborhood kids take witness to the unlikely strength of a fifteen year old's hope against a flame throwing, sidearm pitcher who recently got his driver's license.

Two asymptotic lived come together with one identical swing of their bats in the graph of fate.

(We take our chances everyday)

Fueled by the power of faith, El's abilities come together without thought. He calculates the variables of time, velocity and Newton's second law of motion with his eyes closed.

(Oh, oh! Baby, hold on tight!)

El connects with the fastball.

(Whoa, Runaway Horses!)

The baseball travels 367 feet to left center, over the shadow of the standing figure, sailing over two basketball courts positioned as far as the bleachers in Wrigley Field, where Thompson's ball landed in Chicago.

Rounding each base, El is briefly liberated from the vulnerability of adolescence, the baneful criticisms of his father, and the tormenting flashbacks of his older brother choking him breathless before the start of the Saturday morning cartoons.

(Racing through the darkness

Whoa, trying to find the light)

Conquering fear, El discovers a greater purpose designed by a higher power.

(There's so much light, I feel alive when I'm with you)

Stepping onto homeplate, El scores the lone run, his team still down by four. His eyes are locked to the ground below where his bat rests on the gravel. The neighborhood kids, amazed, continue to cheer his name; but El is deaf to the commotion, never acknowledging his teammates' high fives.

Reaching for his bat, his eyes do not blink. The universe reminds him of his place, where sometimes unpredictable and unwanted circumstances are architected by the hands of destiny. He understands the message:

there is only one Robby Thompson.

El's holds his breath as his fingers slide across the bat's wooden surface where the blue Sharpie ink of *Steve Garvey's autograph is signed at a hand's length below the barrel. He notices the tilt of the barrel that confirms his fear.

(With every end

We'll begin again)

The bat has cracked.

"Your dad is going to kill you!" Jules exclaims.


-Present moment. October, 1996, Mary Park Hall-

El awakes from his deep sleep, but is uncertain if he is still dreaming of that perfect summer, a memory from seven years ago. His dorm room appears familiar, yet different once again...darker than he recalls.

He glances at the far wall, where the unfamiliar shadow of a ceiling fan he has never seen is clear to him as the shadow of the two twitching feet dangling below the blades and the outline of a rope that is tied around a shady appearance of a girl's body dressed in a white robe.

Like a disturbing movie projecting in his room, the sight persuades El to open his eyes to the frightful possibility of a girl gasping for her last breaths above him. His body becomes paralyzed in his sleeping position, his back resting on the mattress, as he barely twists his head that is pushed down onto the pillow.

His head makes a struggling turn only to discover, beyond his feet, the outline of the girl squatting atop his chest.

Bending awkwardly towards El, she positions her pale lips a breath away from his mouth.

As she did before, she whispers to him again,

"Get...out...of...

my bed."