Front Row (L to R):
Chris: A talented infielder who comes from money, so his mom can be counted on for kick-ass post-game snacks.
Mitchell: A true student of the game. A head of bright red hair does a good job of distracting opposing batters.
Eric: Packs a big bat. Always claims he is going to "hit a granny" even if no one is on base.
Jon: Not too good. A little TOO happy.
Micky: Terrible. Best bet is to stick him in left field and let him hold his crotch.
Mike: Lacks intesity. Throws like my sister. Best to put him at catcher where his sole job is to put the ball on the tee.
Rusty: One of the few players who can catch the ball dependably. Has a bitchin' Catfish Hunter signature glove.
Back Row: (L to R):
Trey: Useless. Stands at the plate like he's waiting for a bus.
James: As they say in Texas, all hat, no cattle. Knows the rules, just can't execute.
Kenny: The renegade. Wears red just to be different. If you can keep him in line and off the sauce, he can be a big run producer.
Chris: Good fundamentals, but no speed. Runs like he's got a sack of cement in his drawers.
Derrick: His family goes to the Wisconsin Dells for half the fucking season.
Don, the coach: A little too conservative on the basepaths, but knows how to get the best out of his pitching. Unfortunately, that is of little use in T-ball.