Of the leash
-
For a pair of pants
His favorite pastime
For the last time
-
Why can't I be a normal kid like any other?
Now, doodle bug, listen to mother.
I hate dogs.
I do not wish to be a dog.
Yes!
Yes, sir, sure as the sap rises in the springtime,
boys from all over gathered at
the Junior Boy Ranger Jamboree of United Neighborhood Councils
of rangers across the state.
For two days of fun, friendship,
and bitter head-to-head competition.
And once again, the West East Westland Wolfpack
took home the large trophy of importance.
The wolfpack is always a sure-fire...
Pain in my belly.
Every year, those kids win the skills competition.
Every year, they lead the parade at the closing ceremony.
And every year, where are we?
In the back, with the miserable, humiliated losers!
Now, I understand we all had a lot of fun
at the jamboree last year,
but wouldn't it be fun to win the thing just once?
Yeah!
Wouldn't it be fun to bring home the large trophy of importance?
Yeah!
Wouldn't it be fun to crush those kids
from West East Westland into little pieces of dirt and bone?!
-Uh... Okay? -I don't know.
Hey, uh, don't tell your folks I said that last part, okay?
Sir, I think I speak for everyone when I say,
we're with you all the way.
Um, e-except for the, uh... Well, you know.
If those guys are a great team,
then we'll just work hard until we're a greater team.
Sir, Leonard is absolutely right.
I swear to you now that ere the last lanyard is laced,
we will be the champions
of this year's Junior Boy Ranger Jamboree
of United Neighborhood Councils of rangers across the state!
The JBRJUNCRATS!
Unfortunate acronym.
But it doesn't make our task any less serious.
Boys, we must work together as a team
and perfect every skill in the Junior Boy Ranger manual.
Teddy, work on your knot tying.
Ian, master first aid.
Leonard, hone your skills with the semaphore flags.
In short, friends, let's become a winning team!
Or we could just let Scott win all the events.
That works for me, too.
Scott! Scott! Scott! Scott! Scott! Scott!
It should always be
Ladies and gentlemen, the opening ceremony has concluded,
you'll see every second live on the Marginal Sports Network.
Hooray! Hooray!
Thank you, cable TV, and your vast, gaping maw
of airtime needing to be filled.
You and your Junior Boy Ranger's! Ptooey!
I know it's counter to your nature,
but would you try not to denigrate
that of which you know nothing.
I find the jamboree very intriguing.
Maybe for dummies with no life,
but not for Pretty Boy Helperman.
Oh, shush, and pass me a s'more.
Coming up, the first event,
pitting the East Westland Eagles
against the West East Westland Wolfpack,
will be team tent pitching!
An entire group to pitch a one-pup pup tent?
What a terrible waste of boypower.
Eat my brilliance!
Unfortunate metaphor, but you get the point.
Go, Eagles!
The human-pyramid competition goes to East Westland...
As well as
the make-a-cardboard-cutout- of-yourself competition.
Naturally.
Oh, man!
Ooh.
Bandage making, bird calling--
Hmm, old-lady-across-the-street helping--
and practical-catapult building.
Hey, Lenny, there's two more events I can combine into one.
Don't strain yourself congratulating me.
Scott, I'm happy we're winning,
but don't you think you're forgetting something?
There's an old expression that goes,
"there's no 'i' in 'team.'"
Yes, but there's a "me" in "team"!
Good night, Scott.
There's also "meat," "tame," "mate," "ate," "eat," "tam,"
"mat," "met," "at,"
and, for all you Latin scholars,
"et," as in "et tu, brute?"
Okay, boys, this hike is our path to glory--
glory-- do you hear me?!
J-just five more minutes, Mom.
Please pay strict attention
to the rules of the team-hike competition.
They will be read once...
Don't worry, this is in the bag...
The first troop to hike the full distance
under its own power with no outside help
and successfully reach the summit
of Little Bignose Rock--
not to be confused with Big Bignose Rock--
shall be declared the winner.
...and I'll lead us to Big Bignose Rock and victory!
Uh, Scott, I think you're wrong. The judge said--
let me do the thinking.
You do the following and the sharing in the credit.
Okay.
-Troop, ho!
Hup, hup, hup, hup, hup, hup, hup, hup!
Troop, ho!
Hup, hup...
Looks like somebody I know could use a nutritional supplement.
I got to tell you, I do not understand this, Ted.
The Eagles seem to be marching--
if you can use that word to describe their movements--
to Big Bignose Rock,
while The Wolfpack makes a beeline for...
Little Bignose Rock!
Go back! Go back, Scott!
They're going the wrong way, Jolly!
Oh, for the love of liver, take it easy, will you?
I can't bear to watch!
See? Regional sports can be quite fascinating.
Onward! Onward, boys!
Glory for our team is just--
glory for our team is somewhere
behind that huge Boulder blocking our way.
Heh heh. Eh...Okay, now.
We're not lost. No reason to panic.
Scott, we are lost.
We are?!
What do you mean we're lost?! We can't be lost!
This is Big Bignose Rock.
We were supposed to hike to Little Bignose Rock.
Little... Bignose Rock?
People, you think next time you name things around here,
you might work a little harder?!
Well, thanks for telling me
we were going in the wrong direction!
There goes our trophy.
You mean your trophy.
This hasn't been about us for weeks.
It's not about the team. It's all--
look, I don't really have the energy to go on with this.
You know what I'm getting at, right?
Ohh...what have I--
oh, what have I done?!
Well... I've learned my lesson.
From now on, there is no "me" in "team"--
only "we" in team.
Let's ignore the obvious impossibility of that statement
and concentrate on the spirit of it, right, guys?
-Huh? -Huh?
-Guess so. -Okay.
What?
I'll take that.
This is my solemn vow--
henceforth, I will respect your ranger skills
and allow us to work as a team!
Just as soon as I single-handedly lead us
to Little Bignose Rock and victory!
Aaaaaaaah!
Guys!
Down here!
Okay, guys, this is where you really teach me my lesson.
You pull together, use all your ranger skills to rescue me,
and win the trophy as a true team!
It's ironically perfect.
Scott, we forgot all that skill stuff once you took over.
Or it's just ironically depressing.
I know, I know, I know!
If we find a giant finger somewhere,
we can reach down into the ravine
and flick you out!
Hehhhh!
I think I'll just wait for the wild animals to pick me apart,
if you don't mind.
Wolfpack, ho!
What the--
Wolfpack, halt!
Initiate handkerchief maneuver number 7!
Yes, sir!
How ironically appropriate.
Thank you, boys.
You saved me, knowing full well
I would then beat you and claim victory for East Westland.
Actually, the rules say you're disqualified
if you finish the hike with any outside help.
You know, I should really start paying attention
to those rule thingies.
And there they are, folks--
the West East Westland Wolfpack,
winners of the large trophy of importance
for the ninth year in a row!
Oh, someday I'll win.
Aw, don't feel so bad. You just can't help yourself.
I don't feel bad for myself.
I feel bad for you and the rest of the guys.
At least last year when you lost, you had some fun.
Now it's all over.
It's not over yet.
The parade's gonna go on for at least another hour.
You mean...?
Let's have some fun!
Yahoo!
Last one to the potholder-making pavilion
is a rotten egg!
I have got to teach that dog to lighten up a little.
The outlook isn't brilliant in East Westland this fine day.
A friendship will be tested, and there will be heck to pay.
The fighting won't be over girls or tacos at the mall,
but tryouts for East Westland's Mighty Bitty League Of Ball.
Ah, baseball!
The roar of the foul-line paint...
The smell of the mound...
Eh...that can't be right.
Perhaps I should read up on the game a tad.
Don't worry. I'll help you out.
I just hope we get on a team-- any team.
Make way for the coach and star of the Fighting Festering Sores!
Eh heh heh heh!
Perhaps not any team.
The coaches, they assembled. The whistle, it was blown.
The pitcher, he got ready. And the tryout had begun.
And after just one mighty hit, it was plain for all to see
who the newest, hottest,
coolest first-draft pick would be.
Ha hey! This is fun!
Scott's performance on the field
was bright and superstarry.
But the best that could be said for our poor Leonard was...
Sorry.
Aaah!
Eek!
Yes! Yes!
Oh, yeah! I did it!
Okay, he hit one. We can come out of hiding now.
Scott, guess what?! I'm on a team!
Sure, it's Ian's team and it's named after a facial blemish
and I'm batting 12th and playing right field adjacent,
but I'm on a team!
Hey, that's great.
How'd you do?
Oh...not bad.
He's on my team! I saw him first!
No way, loser! That kid is mine-- all mine!
They're fighting over me, Leonard! It's incredible!
Who would have thought when I first arrived at your school
a scant eight months ago--
eight months? You've only lived in this town for eight months?
Do you mind? I'm exulting here.
If you want to play in our league,
you have to have lived in the district for a full year.
Scott, I'm sorry you can't play.
Yeah, well...That's the way the spitball slips, I suppose.
It's a good thing I can take it.
Aaaaaaaah!
Aaaah! I can't take it!
It's not so bad. You can play next season.
Hello! I'm a dog, Leonard--
a "one year equals seven dog years" dog.
Ohhhhh! Cruel, cruel fate!
It doesn't seem right.
I mean, I'm not that good, and yet, I get to play.
And you, you're...
The greatest thing to happen to the game
since the invention of the funnel cake,
and I can only sit and watch.
Oh, it's all so unfair,
so inconsolably, so unmitigatedly--
hold that tragic thought.
Must one have lived here for a year to be a coach?
-No. -Much obliged.
Thanks for waiting, Leonard.
Great news-- I can coach!
Coach?
Yes!
I can join your team and coach you!
It's a natural-- I'm a great player, you...
Stink on ice?
A little vulgar, but fair enough.
It's perfect, Leonard.
I'll pass on my gift for the game to you!
But Mr. Wazselewski's the manager.
You think he and the rest of the team will go along with this?
-Yes, please! -Oh, yes, Scott, please!
Do it, Scott!
Oh, I think they're onboard.
Here's how you show 'em the old pepper. Ha ha ha!
You follow?
Uh-huh.
Back, back, back, back, back, back, back!
Gone! Goodbye!
Is it my turn yet?
Uhhh!
Pttt!
Great catch, Leonard. You're learning fast.
Stick with me, and before you know it,
you'll be in the majors-- the show.
But I'm happy just being on Ian's team
and playing right field adjacent.
Nobody ever hits there, so I can't screw up too bad.
Good, good. Keep playing modest.
Nobody likes an arrogant superstar.
Take it from me.
Now back to work.
Let's go over the signs. This one...
...means "hit a home run."
This one...
Means "hit a big, big home run."
I think I like this one better.
What's that?
"Hold your bat up and pray for a bunt."
Whoo-hoo!
Ho, boy!
Now, Ian will bat first, Ruth second,
Muddy third, Leonard fourth...
What?! Leonard gets to play center field and bat cleanup?
He can't field or hit!
I know. I didn't ask for this.
Ugh! What clown made this lineup?!
Foam fingers!
Get your special commemorative Leonard Helperman foam fingers!
Guaranteed to go up in value
when Lenny makes the big leagues!
Oh, no!
Scott--
Hiya, champ.
Aaah!
Scott, what are you--
Nice, huh? No time to thank me now.
You've got some grand slams to hit today, brother.
I can't bat cleanup and play center field.
I'm no good.
Nonsense. You've really improved.
Now, just remember everything I showed you
and believe in yourself, and you'll do great.
Well... okay.
But you have to promise you'll stop embarrassing me.
You have my solemn word.
Of the free-e-e-e-e-e-e!
Than Leonard, yeah!
Poor Leonard hoped and prayed
he'd make at least one catch that day.
-Boo! -Come on!
Poor Leonard's prayers weren't answered,
but Scott had missed the play.
Gimme an "L"!
Gimme an "E"!
Gimme an "O"!
Ugh!
Ohh! Gimme an ice pack!
There were no two ways about it.
It was time to make a switch. So Scott told poor Leonard...
Guess what? You're gonna pitch!
The answer wasn't pitching, catching, or playing first.
Then Leonard got his turn at bat.
Things went from bad to worse.
The other festering sores were as gnarly as their name.
They scratched with tooth and nail
and got back into the game.
Dude, you pick it up.
Ian's bat touched it! I'm not going near that ball!
Ha ha! Ha ha haaaaa! Ha haa!
Finally, the wildcats' lead was down to 10 to 9.
Leonard, he came up to bat and Scott gave him the sign.
What?
Strike one!
Hit a game-winning home run!
I'm trying!
Strike two!
Are you crazy?! That's no strike!
Scott, it's okay.
No, it's not okay! The bat never crossed the plate!
It almost crossed my face! Strike two!
Stop kicking dirt on my shoes!
Oh, ohhh! So it's dirt you're afraid of, huh?
I'll give you dirt!
Scott! Stop it! I've had enough!
Yeah, I've had enough of this umpire, too!
Mix in some laser eye surgery next time!
No! It's you I've had enough of!
Me?!
And you're not helping me! You're driving me crazy!
How could you say that after all I've done for you?
Do you know how long that mascot head took me to make?
You don't have the easiest cranium to sculpt, you know!
It's irregularly shaped!
Don't you see? You didn't do all this for me.
You did it for you because you can't play.
If you really wanted to be my friend,
you'd help me at something I'm good at
and not try to live out your failed dreams through me.
Well, boo hoo hoo!
I am going to make you a ballplayer if it kills you!
Have it your way, coach!
I'll just swing as hard as I can, then.
Fine! You do that, scooter!
All eyes were on Leonard as he came back to the plate,
afraid that he would strike out and forever seal his--
wait! Bunt!
Bunt?! I can't!
Eek!
It's a perfect bunt by Leonard Helperman!
And here comes muddy Walters to score the winning run!
Sores win!
Thanks, Scott. I appreciate it.
You were right all along, Leonard.
I just let you do the thing that you're good at.
And now for the thing that I'm good at.
Today, I consider myself the luckiest, handsomest boy
on the face of the earth.
Because today, I learned a lesson
about what it means to have a friend--
a loyal friend, a dedicated friend,
the best, most wonderful...
Ah, but enough about me. Let's hear it for Leonard!
Oh, somewhere in this favored land,
the sun is shining bright,
the band is playing somewhere,
and somewhere, hearts are light.
That somewhere is East Westland,
where the Wildcat team was shunted
and a friendship saved from ruin
because mighty Leonard bunted.