Facing The Giants

Chapter 3
The Big Game

The game started. And it was every bit as humiliating as The Braves expected. The Bruins had a great time stopping their charging opponents casually with one hand and holding them at arm’s length, flailing helplessly, while they scored goal after goal. And when the Braves tried desperately to tackle a runner, they’d end up either bouncing off like a Nerf ball or clinging ineffectually to him as he continued his sprint down the field, spiking the ball, then letting them down like he’d just given them a piggy-back ride. There was a brief ray of hope when the Bruins fumbled and Brad managed to snap up the ball. He ran frantically for the goal, praying they’d be able to score at least one point in the mismatched battle.

"C’MON, YOU IDIOTS!" Coach Reilly shouted from the sidelines. "I DIDN’T SPEND ALL THAT MONEY FOR THAT HOODOO CHARM JUST SO YOU COULD GET BEAT BY A BUNCH OF KIDS! GET ’IM!"

Coach Dwyer perked up. Hoodoo charm?

Brad was caught, and to make it even worse, he was caught by Trent Grayson, who scooped him up under one arm. Brad tossed the football down so they’d at least have the yards while Trent carried him, kicking and shouting, back down the field.

"Bad boy! See how much trouble you’ve caused!"

"Yeah, well, if you guys can’t even beat a little kid..."

"Oh yeah?" In response, Trent flipped up the tail of Brad’s jersey, exposing his bare behind. In front of both teams and the entire crowd, he proceeded to give him a sound spanking.

"OW! HEY! STOP IT! GOD-DAM IT, TRENT, WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON... OW!"

The sideshow kept anyone from noticing Coach Dwyer had slipped off his perch and ran back down to the door of the Braves locker room. Hunting around, he finally spotted a freshy dug hole in the dirt right next to the door. A moment’s digging produced a small, grimy pendent covered with arcane symbols.

"Hoodoo charm, eh?" Coach Dwyer sat back on his heels. "I wonder if it still works..."

Meanwhile, the rest of the Bruins had followed Trent’s lead, paddling the Braves unmercifully. Finally, on a signal from Trent, they dropped the boys down on the ground, yanking their jersies completely off.

"Whuh... HEY!" Covering themselves as best they could, the Braves leapt up to try to retrieve their clothes. Laughing, the Bruins dangled them over their heads, out of reach. "HEY! GIVE THOSE BACK!"

"How’s the weather down there?" A Bruin taunted. "Chilly?"

"Hey, look! They shrunk all over!"

The Braves blinked back tears as they were forced to leap and dance about in front of the jeering team and the howling bleachers.

"C’MON! THIS ISN’T FUNNY!"

"GIVE US OUR SHIRTS BACK, YOU LOUSY..."

Trent smirked down at the red-faced Brad. "Say ’please...’"

"You dirty..." The boys looked at each other, swallowing. "OKAY, PLEASE!"

The Bruins shook the jersies again.

"PLEASE!"

And again.

"PLEEEEEEEEEASE!"

The halftime whistle blew. Laughing, the Bruins hurled the jersies in various directions. The mortified Braves scrambled around collecting them before retreating as fast as they could to their locker room.

"WE’LL GET YOU FOR THIS! IF IT’S THE LAST THING WE EVER DO..."

A second later, Coach Dwyer tugged on Coach Reilly’s sleeve.

"Something you need to take a look at..."

Smirking, Reilly patted Dwyer’s little head and followed him into the administration building.

"Now, little feller, this better not be about your team losin’. You know, it’s important to take that kinda thing calmly and not..."

As he walked, he stepped over a small mound of recently disturbed earth. As he did, he suddenly deflated, dwindling until he was the same size as Dwyer.

"How about that?" Dwyer chuckled, inspecting the newly regressed Reilly, flabbergasted and swimming in his now gigantic clothes. "It does work!"

"Whuh... Whuh..." Hiking up his trousers, Reilly smiled nervously. "C’mon, Dwyer, don’t be upset. Can’t you take a joke?"

Opening the door to a nearby broom closet, he pulled Reilly inside.

"C’mere, little boy. I wanna talk with you..."