Guy in front of me on the plane yesterday, probably 6'5", 280, meathead, covered in tats. Four-hour flight. Scrolling through the seatback TV, he finally picks Sandlot. Watches the entire thing, doesn't smile or look away once. The credits roll, The End. Bro presses "Play Again." Watches Sandlot again. The Jet steals home (for the second time) right as the seatbelt sign goes off at the arrival gate. No phone, no e-mail, no music. Just back-to-back Sandlots from ATL to Boise. Unbelievable energy.