Mexican standoff.

Yeahhhhhh.

The guns are already out.

Eyes darting around. Lots of clicking back of the hammers.

Click.

Click-click.

Click-click click.

Kid Epstein and The Cash(man) are in the center of town.

The Kid looks at The Cash.

The Cash looks at The Kid.

Cash keeps an eye peeled at the rest of Epstein's Banditos Rojos Medias (Red Socks/Sox) peering from the broken windows of the Lansdowne Street General Store:

Manny Being Manny.
Ortiz.
V.
The Bloody Sock.
Big Hoss Josh
Dice.
Co-co.
The Paper Man.
The Knuckler.
And that New Guy at 2nd.

Manny Being Manny and Ortiz are the ones to never let out of your sight.

Manny Being Manny because he's crazy - he just don't care!

And Ortiz because he's almost always the last man standing. Even after sticking his hands into the fire to save your chestnuts.

Now look at the House that Ruth Built and you'll see that Cash brought Brenner's Black Hats; the business end of their sluggers are peekin' out from Babe's old room. Really Ole George sits in a really ole wicker wheel chair on the short porch - surrounded by very BIG men:

Jeter.
Big Hoss Jason.
Big Hoss Andy of the Cross.
Big Rod.
Smiling Johnny D.
Jorgie P.
Robinson Cano and Melky (Leche).
Moose.
Matsui.
The Hughes Boy and Baby Joba.

Jeter positions himself out front dressed in the uniform of a union army captain. They say he dove head first into a bar room brawl. Twice. Came up looking pretty. Once. He's an inspiration to the boys.

And don't you forget Mo Rivera - the Sandman so leeeean, perfectly groomed, hat tilted just so, all in black. Black on black. That Pentecostal Skeleton Head may talk to God, but they say he made a deal with the diablo to get his cutter. Sandman steps out from the bullpen without fear. No pistols. Just those deadly throwing knives. He rarely misses. When he does, he doesn't miss again.

George's son Hal does the numbers; he's in the cellar - wearing the green eye shade.

George's son Hank smokes a Winston right down to the knubbin'.

Another thing: That George may be REALLY old, but don't take your eyes off him neither. He still has the BIGGEST gun.

Carl Pohlad (CPA) pushes Johan Santana out of the Pohlad National Bank and on to the street. Pohlad has got Santana lassoed. Partial Hogtie.

Hey, are those sticks of TNT wrapped around Santana's torso?

Carl: I got what you all want right here!

Kid Epstein: Hey, you be careful, we're clicking here!

The Cash: Me and my boys are clicking too!

Kid: Okay, so we've all clicked.

(Something rustles in the General store.)

Cash: Hey don't do that! These are real bullets here in my pistols.

Kid: We've got real bullets too.

Cash: This could get bad if you start something. One wrong move and I might start it.

Kid: Oh yeah?!

Cash: Always that possibility. Don't take your eyes off me.

More Clickety click-click.

Click!

Suddenly Omar Moreno rides into town with a posse of MLB Pinkertons pulling a wagonload of young Metropolitans.

The Rojos and Blacks look a bit perplexed. In a squinty Clint way.

George's eyes glint.
He wants to shoot - draw some blood!

Cash and Hank flash him a look.

Hank: We talked about this dad. Melky and Hughes is good people. Family.

Cash (little smile at the corner of his mouth): No worries. Relaaahhhhhx.

Omar rides up kinda slow to Carl Pohlad (CPA).

Omar: I think I have what you need.

Carl: That's it?!?

Omar: What'd you expect?

Carl: I needed a reeeeeeal center fielder.

Omar: Not sure you've noticed, but you don't have many amigos 'round here.

Carl: But your kids are green! Heck, I don't even know if they can fight at all.

Omar (head gesturing back to the Rojos and Brenner Blacks): You want some of that?

(Pause.)

Carl: Oh alright. Hand 'em over.

Pinkertons disperse. Omar rides off with Johan in a cloud of dust. It's a long journey back to the National League. Los Rojos and The Brenner Boys back up slowly into their respective properties.

Guns now unclick.

Unclick.
Unclickety-click-un-click-un-CLICK...un.

Suddenly a knife (knife POV) flies toward the Lansdowne general store.

Thwonk-oyoing-yoing-yoing-yoing-yoing!

Right.
On.
Target.
Pinning a bloody sock to the front door.

The Rojos spin around, start to reach for their guns - almost startin' the clickin' again. They stop themselves.

It's the Sandman's calling card.

The Sandman smiles.
The Rojos smile.
Everybody smiles.

All head to the Sultan's Saloon, laughing, back-slapping as they push through the swinging doors. Manny being Manny shoots his pistols in the air, cackling. Nobody stops him. Just Manny being Manny.

All head to the Saloon but Carl Pohlad (CPA), who trudges off to his farm, pulling that wagonload of green Metropolitans.

Thanks Steve of PacNorthWest & Joel of Ditmas Park.