Clutching their jersies over various parts of themselves, the Braves limped back to their locker room, sore, battered, and totally humiliated.
"’We gotta show them we’re not scared of them!’" Travis glared at Brad. "I oughta bust you in the mouth!"
"Shut up, okay! Just shut up!" Brad flopped down on the bench. He bounded back to his feet. "YOW!" Rubbing his bruised behind, he glowered. "Damn those... I’ll get them for this..."
"I can’t go back out there..." Dylan was crying. "I can’t, I just can’t..."
"Look, everyone just calm down, okay?" Brad headed for the showers. Peeling off his helmet, he turned on the water and let it cool his blazing backside. "Oh, man, that feels... good..."
He hesitated. His voice had dropped several octaves when he pronounced that last word. Looking down at himself, he saw he was growing, going through a weird instant puberty. In the blink of an eye, he was back to his proper size again.
"Oh God! Oh God, what a relief!" He laughed. "I never thought I’d be so glad to see my pubes!"
The other guys, still kids, came running in. "What happened to you?"
"The showers, guys! Get under the showers!"
They did. In no time, the entire team was restored to full size.
"Man, this is PERFECT!" The guys lost no time getting into their uniforms. "Now we’ll show those..."
They were interrupted by Coach Dwyer, still boy-size, running into the locker room, a bundle under his arm. "Well, guys, I found..." He stopped dead, looking up at the guys. "What’s going on? How’d you get back to normal?"
The guys filled him in.
"So all we needed to do was that? Douse ourselves with water?"
"It gets even crazier!" Dwyer called from the shower-room, his voice deepening steadily. "Reilly had no idea! All the lady who sold him the pendent told him was that we’d shrink! He didn’t bother to find out how to make us big again!"
"Nice guy," Travis growled.
Dwyer emerged, fully aged and dressed again. "Yeah, well, I took care of him."
Dylan looked over. "But won’t he warn his team he got the pendent?"
"I doubt it," Dwyer smirked, producing the bundle he’d been carrying earlier: Reilly’s clothes. "He’s locked in a broom closet on the other side of the field right now. And I buried the pendent under the door of the Bruins’ locker room."
The Braves looked at each other, grins widening. "Oh man, we’ve GOTTA see this!"
Halftime over, the Bruins charged onto the field. One by one, they popped like balloons, shriveling down to small boys in oversized uniforms. Tripping over now too-big shoes, their football pants slipping, they slowed, then stopped, looking at themselves and each other in amazed horror.
Trent’s voice was an adenoidal squeak. "Oh my God!"
The Braves walked over, looking down at the now-pint size Bruins.
"So, little feller," Brad leaned down and picked up a thoroughly terrified Trent; Trent’s shoes, socks, pants, and jock slid down his legs and onto the ground, leaving him in only his jersey. "Ready for the second half?"
Travis flexed his hands, glaring down at the cowering Bruins. "Or, as we like to call it, payback time!"
"Right," Brad said, reaching for the tail of Trent’s jersey. "And speaking of payback..."
"WE FORFEIT!" Trent shouted frantically. "WE FORFEIT! YOU WIN!"
"NO! NO FORFEIT!"
The squawking shout came from the other side of the field. The Braves gaped, then burst into laughter as the boy-sized Coach Reilly stormed over to his team stark naked, a mop-head clumsily wrapped around his middle in a desperate and largely futile attempt to protect his modesty.
Trent stared at the little pink figure stomping over to him. "Coach Reilly?!?!?"
"We’re not gonna forfeit!" He insisted, glaring at his whimpering little quarterback. "We’re still ahead! All you gotta do is keep ’em from scoring!"
"B...But... But... But COACH..."
"Now get in there and PLAY!"
"Yeah," Brad smirked. "Get in and play."
The Braves won 21-12.
And The Bruins weren’t able to sit down for nearly two weeks.