#and it would explain why William reacted the way he did when he read Mike's name!

[mingot-studios]

Me explaining why Movie!Mike's dad is actually going to be the film counterpart to Henry Emily;

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

RANDOM REVIEW #2: ANY GIVEN SUNDAY (1999)

“This game has got to be about more than winning. You’re part of something.”  Any Given Sunday (1999), directed by Oliver Stone and featuring Jamie Foxx, Dennis Quaid, Cameron Diaz, Al Pacino, LL Cool J, James Woods, and Matthew Modine, is my favourite sports movie of all time. Of all time.

I’m not betraying my favourite sport by saying this. The Mighty Ducks is a kid’s movie. It’s okay, but it’s not a timeless classic. I don’t like the Slap Shot series, Sudden Death is fun but silly, and the Goon movies were a missed opportunity. The only truly good scene in Goon is the diner scene where Liev Schreiber tells Seann William Scott: “Don’t go trying to be a hockey player. You’ll get your heart ripped out.”

  Such is the sad circumstance of the hockey enforcer. They all want to play, not just fight. Here’s a link to a video in which the most feared fighter in the history of the NHL, Bob Probert, explains that he wanted to be “an offensive threat...like Bobby Orr,” not a fighter: https://youtu.be/4sbxejbMH4g?t=118 Heartbreaking. But not unusual.

Donald Brashear, Marty McSorley, Tie Domi, Stu “The Grim Reaper” Grimson, Frazer McLaren: they all had hockey skills. But they were told they had to fight to remain on the roster, so they fought. As Schreiber says in the film: “You know they just want you to bleed, right?”  If the players don’t bleed, they don’t get to stay on the team. So they fight, and they pay dearly for it later. Many former fighters have CTE or other head injuries that make day-to-day life difficult. The makers of Goon should have taken that scene and run with it. I was so disappointed they didn’t, especially given what happened right around the time the film came out, with the tragic suicides of Wade Belak, Derek Boogaard, and Rick Rypien, all enforcers, all dead in a single summer. So Hollywood hasn’t even made a good hockey movie, let alone a great one. Baseball has a shitload of good films, probably because the slower pace of play makes it easier to film. Moneyball has a terrific home run scene, Rookie of the Year does too. Angels in the Outfield was a big favourite of mine when I was a kid, plus all the Major League films, and Bull Durham. 

Football has two good movies: The Program (1993) and Rudy (1993).    

And football has one masterpiece. The one I am writing about today.

A young Oliver Stone trying not to die in Vietnam. ^ Now, I know Stone is laughed at these days, given his nutty conspiracy theories and shitty behaviour and the marked decline in the quality of his films (although 2012’s Savages was underrated). I know Stone is about as subtle as a sledgehammer, but do you want a football movie to be subtle? Baseball, sure. It’s a game of fine distinctions, but football? Football is war. And war is about steamrolling the enemy, distinctions be damned, which is why Any Given Sunday is such an amazing sports film. I love the way it shows the dark side of football. In fact, the film is so dark that the NFL withdrew their support and cooperation, forcing Stone to create a fictitious league and team to portray what he wanted to portray.

This is not to say the movie is fresh or original. Quite the opposite. Any Given Sunday has every single sports film cliché you can think of. But precisely because it tries to stuff every single cliché into its runtime, the finished product is not a cliched mess so much as a rich tapestry, a dense cinema verite depiction of the dizzying highs and depressing lows of a professional sports team as it wins, loses, parties, and staggers its way through a difficult season.  Cliché #1: The aging quarterback playing his final year, trying to win one last championship. (Dennis Quaid) 

Sample dialog: Dennis Quaid (lying in a hospital bed severely injured): Don’t give up on me coach. Al Pacino: You’re like a son to me. I’ll never give up on you. ^ I know this sounds awful. But it’s actually fuckin’ great. Cliché #2: The arrogant upstart new player who likes hip hop and won’t respect the old regime. (Jamie Foxx) 

Cliché #3: The walking wounded veteran who could die if he gets hit one more time. Coincidentally, he needs just one more tackle to make his million-dollar bonus for the season. (Lawrence Taylor) 

Cliché #4: The female executive in a man’s world who must assert herself aggressively in order to win the grudging respect of her knuckle-dragging male colleagues (Cameron Diaz). Diaz is fantastic in the role, though she should have had more screen time, given that the main conflict in the film is very much about the new generation, as represented by her and Jamie Foxx, trying to replace the old generation, represented by Al Pacino, Dennis Quaid, Jim Brown, and Lawrence Taylor. Some people think Diaz’s character is too calculating, but here’s the thing: she’s right. Too many sports GMs shell out millions for the player an individual used to be, not the player he presently is. “I am not resigning a 39-year old QB, no matter how good he was,” she tells Pacino’s coach character, and you know what? She’s right. The Leafs’ David Clarkson signing is proof positive of the perils of signing a player based on past performance, not current capability. Diaz’s character is the living embodiment of the question: do you want to win, or do you want to be loyal? Cuz sometimes you can’t do both.

Cliché #5: The team doctor who won’t sacrifice his ethics for the good of the team (Matthew Modine).

Cliché #6: The team doctor who will sacrifice his ethics for the good of the team (James Woods) 

Cliché #7: The grizzled, thrice-divorced coach who has sacrificed everything for his football team, to the detriment of his social and familial life, who must give a stirring speech at some point in the film (Al Pacino…who goes out there and gives the all-time greatest sports movie “we must win this game” speech) 

Cliché #8: The assistant or associate coach who takes a parental interest in his players, playing the good cop to the head coach’s bad cop (former NFL star Jim Brown). 

Best quote: “Who wants to be thinking about blitzes and crossblocks when you’re holding your grandkids in your arms? That’s why I wanna coach high school. Kids don’t know nothing. They just wanna play.” 

Cliché #9: The player who can’t stop doing drugs (L.L. Cool J).

Okay, so the first thing that needs to be talked about is Al Pacino’s legendary locker room speech.  Now, it’s the coach’s job to rile up and inspire the players. But eloquence alone won’t do it. If you use certain big words, you lose them (remember Brian Burke being endlessly mocked by the Toronto media for using the word “truculent?”). The coach must deliver the message in a language the players understand, while still making victory sound lofty and aspirational. This is not an easy thing to accomplish. One of my favourite inspirational lines was spoken by “Iron” Mike Keenan to the New York Rangers before Game 7 against the Vancouver Canucks in 1994. “Win tonight, and we’ll walk together forever.” Oooh that’s gorgeous. But Pacino’s speech is right up there with it. 

“You know, when you get old in life…things get taken from you. That’s parta life. But you only learn that when you start losin’ stuff. You find out…life’s this game of inches. So’s football. In either game – life or football – the margin for error is so small. I mean…one half a step too late or too early and you don’t quite make it…one half second too slow, too fast, you don’t quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They’re in every break of the game, every minute, every second. On this team, we fight for that inch. We claw with our fingernails for that inch. Because we know when we add up all those inches that’s gonna make the fuckin difference between winnin’ and losin’! Between livin’ and dyin’!” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_iKg7nutNY  Somehow, against all odds, Any Given Sunday succeeds. It is the Cinderella run of sports movies. You root for the film as you watch it. The dressing room scenes are incredible…the Black players listen to the newest hip hop while a trio of lunkhead white dudes headbang and scream “Hetfield is God.” There is a shower scene where a linebacker, tired of being teased about the size of his penis, tosses his pet alligator into the showers where it terrorizes his tormentors. There is a scene where a halfback has horrible diarrhea, but he’s hooked up to an IV so the doctor (Matthew Modine) has to follow him into the toilet cubicle, crinkling his nose as the player evacuates his bowels. There is a scene where someone loses an eye (the only scene in the film where Stone’s over-the-top approach misses the mark). There are scenes that discuss concussions (which is why the NFL refused to cooperate for the film), where Lawrence Taylor has to sign a waiver absolving the team of responsibility if he is hurt or paralyzed or killed. I wonder how purists and old school football fans reacted to the news that Oliver Stone was making a football film. If they even knew who he was (not totally unlikely…Stone made a string of jingoistic war movies in the 1980s) they probably thought the heavy hands of Oliver would ruin the film, take the poetry out of every play. But the actual football is filmed perfectly. The camera gets nice and low for the tackles. It flies the arcs of perfect spiral passes. It shows the chaos of a defensive line barreling down the field. When Al Pacino asked quarterback Dan Marino (fresh off his own Hollywood experience acting in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective) what it was like to be an NFL QB, Marino said: “Imagine standing on a highway with traffic roaring at you while trying to read Hamlet.” A great explanation. Shoulda made the movie. So the football itself is fabulously done. Much better than what Cameron Crowe did in the few football scenes in Jerry Maguire. The Program had some great football, as did Rudy, but neither come close to the heights of Any Given Sunday. In one of the film’s best scenes, Jamie Foxx insists that his white coaches have routinely placed him in situations where he was doomed to fail or prone to injury, and we believe him because white coaches have been doing that to Black players for decades. Quarterback Doug Williams, who led his Washington Redskins team to a Superbowl victory in 1987, was frequently referred to by even liberal media outlets as a “Black quarterback,” instead of just “quarterback,” as if his skin colour necessitated a qualification. Even now, in 2021, the majority of quarterbacks are white, although the gap is gradually closing. The 2020 season saw the highest number of starting Black quarterbacks, with 10 out of a possible 32.  Quarterback is the most cerebral position on the field, and for a long time there was a racist belief that Black men couldn’t do the job. Foxx’s character is a composite of many of the different Black quarterbacks who came of age in the 1990s, fighting for playing time against white QBs beloved by their fan base, fawned over in hagiographic Sports Illustrated profiles, and protected by the good ol’ boys club of team executives and coaching staff. Foxx’s character isn’t demoted because he can’t play the game. He wins several crucial games for his team en route to the playoffs. He’s demoted because he listens to hip hop in the dressing room, because he recorded a rap song and shot a video for it, and because he’s cocky. Yes, the scene where he asks out Cameron Diaz is sexist, as if her power only comes from her sexuality, not her intelligence and business acumen, but it’s meant to show how overly confident Foxx is, not that he’s a sexist prick. Any Given Sunday isn’t a single issue film. It’s basically an omni-protest piece. It gleefully shows football’s dark side, and there is no director better than Oliver Stone for muck-raking. He’s in full-on investigative journalist mode in Any Given Sunday, showing how and why players play through serious brain injuries. How because they are given opiates, often leading to debilitating addictions (this happens in all contact sports...Colorado Avalanche player Marek Svatos overdosed on heroin a few years after retiring from injuries). As to why, Stone gives two reasons. One, team doctors are paid by the team, not the players, therefore their decisions will benefit the team, not the players. And two, the players themselves are encouraged to underreport injuries and play through them because stats are incentivized. James Woods unethical doctor argues with Modine’s idealistic one because an MRI the latter called for a player to have costs the team $20k. But the player in question, Lawrence Taylor, plays anyway because his contract is stat incentivized and if he makes on more tackle he gets a million dollars. Incentivizing stats leads to players playing hurt. And although I loathe this term, a lazy go-to for film critics, Stone really does give an unflinching account of how this shit happens and why. When Williams is inevitably hurt and lying prone on the field, he woozily warns the paramedics who are placing him on a stretcher to “be careful…I’m worth a million dollars.” It’s tragic, yet you’re happy for him. The film really makes you care about these guys.  Thanks to the smartly written script, the viewer knows that Williams has four kids, and you’re pleased he made his bonus because, in all likelihood, after he retires, his injuries will prevent him from any kind of gainful employment (naturally, they give the TV analyst jobs to retired white players, unless Williams can somehow land the coveted token Black guy gig). Stone is not above fan service, a populist at heart, and he stuffs the film with former and then-current NFL players, a miraculous stunt given the fact that the NFL revoked their cooperation. Personally, I think this was a good thing because it meant Stone didn’t have to compromise (the league wanted editorial say on all issues pertaining to the league…meaning they would have cut the best storyline, which is the playing hurt one). It also meant that they had to rename the team and the league. While I’m sure this took away from the realism for some fans, I’m cool with it. It also allowed the moviemakers to name the team the Sharks, a perfect name for this roving band of predatory capitalist sports executives. In another example of fan service, the call-girl Pacino’s quintessential lonely workaholic character rents a girlfriend experience from is none other than Elizabeth Berkley of Showgirls, who had been unfairly blacklisted after the titular Verhoven/Esterhaz venture, a movie my wife showed me one day while I was dopesick, which I became so transfixed and mesmerized by that I forgot I was. As mentioned above, the only misstep in the film is one of the offshoots of the Playing Hurt arc, where a player loses an eye on the field. Not because he gets poked, but because he gets hit so hard his eye simply falls out. A medic runs onto the field and puts the white globe on ice. Stone cast a player with a glass eye in order to achieve this effect. No CGI! Still, the scene is unconvincing, a tad too over-the-top. But this is Oliver Stone. At least Any Given Sunday’s sole over-the-top moment is a throwaway scene lasting all of thirty seconds. It easily could have been a secondary plot-line in which government officials try to sneak a Cuban football prodigy out of Castro’s communist stronghold but the player is brutally murdered the morning the officials arrive at his apartment to escort him to the private plane. Or else the team GM is revealed to be a massive international cocaine dealer. Or the tight end is one half of a serial killer couple. The film follows its own advice, focusing more on the players growth, particularly Beamon’s (Foxx). The anonymity of the title, Any Given Sunday, elevates the game, not the players. Thank God, the movie doesn’t force Beamon to assimilate into Pacino’s mold. He buys into the team-first philosophy without renouncing his idiosyncratic POV or his fierce individuality. This is a triumph. One of my biggest problems with sports is the flattening effect it can have on creative individuals. Players take media training in order to sound as alike as possible during media interviews, a long row of stoic giants spouting cliches. It’s boring. Which is why media latch onto a loudmouth, even while they scold him for it. All sports are dying for an intelligent mouthpiece who can explain his motivations in a succinct, sound-bite-friendly, manner. Sports are entertainment. As much as I love Sidney Crosby, in my heart I have to go with Alexander Ovechkin because Ovechkin is far more thrilling, both on and off the ice. Unlike almost every other NHL star before him, all of whom were forced to kneel and kiss Don Cherry’s Rock Em Sock Em ring, Ovechkin defiantly told the media he simply did not care about Cherry or Cherry’s disgusting parental reaction to one of Ovie’s more creative goal celebrations (called a “celly” in the biz). On the play in question, Ovechkin scored the goal, then dropped his stick and mimed warming his hands over it, as if his stick were on fire. As cheesy as the celebration appeared to the naked eye, it’s both a funny and accurate notion. Ovechkin was the hottest scorer in the league for many years and his stick was on fire, metaphorically speaking. The only celly I can think of that matches up in terms of creativity and entertainment value came from Teemu Selanne in 1993, who scored a beauty of a goal, threw one of his gloves straight up into the air, then pumped his stick like a shotgun while “shooting” his glove. Of course, Cherry took exception to it. Cherry’s favourite goal celebration features Bobby Orr putting his head down and refraining from raising his hands over his head. Cherry’s idea of an appropriate goal celly is no celly at all. This from a man who claims “we’ve got to sell our game.” But when an arrogant player shows up and he’s not white, he’s in for a shitload of bad press. Foxx’s Beamon illustrates this beautifully when he yells at Pacino after Pacino cuts him for an older QB who has lost four games this season. “Don’t play that racism card with me,” Pacino warns. “Okay…okay…” Foxx nods, “Maybe it’s not racism. Maybe it’s ‘placism’…as in…a brother got to know his place.”

Here is the original theatrical trailer, featuring Garbage’s classic “Push It.”

Above Lawrence Taylor begs Matthew Modine for Cortazone.  There’s also a great scene where Pacino is trying to figure out where he has gone wrong and Diaz just looks at him. “You got old,” she says simply. No enterprise is more cruel to an aging human being than sports. And this movie makes football a big giant corporate machine that chews players up and spits them out, injured and drug addicted, after four or five years. Those who play for a decade are lucky. This is still how the NFL works. And the NHL is increasingly becoming a young man’s game. Experience matters less and less.

When I started watching hockey in the 90s, players regularly competed into their late 30s. Not so anymore. Players peak at 23-24 now, and are often out of the league by age 35. Thornton and Chelois are exceptions, not the rule. After more than two hours, Any Given Sunday finally lurches across the finish line, bravely refusing to give its viewers a traditional happy ending, in the great tradition of underdog sports films like Rocky and Rudy. The bombshell dropped by Pacino’s character at the end feels less surprising than inevitable, but by now the movie has explored so much of professional sports' seedy underbelly that you're glad it's over. The film is great but exhausting. Stone seems to be advancing the notion that the sport itself is pure, but the people in it are corrupt. If money weren’t involved, the game would be played for its own sake.

I agree with this. People playing pond hockey are engaging in wholesome fun, not necessarily practicing to make a professional league. Commerce corrupts the purity of the game, and the extent to which it corrupts is directly proportional to how badly the individual in question needs the commerce. Of course, the sport is highly racialized, with people in positions of authority white, and those being told what to do with their bodies Black.

Any Given Sunday is an important film, but it never sacrifices entertainment for the sake of moralizing. That it pulls off such a strong moralistic stance is a testament to the actors, who are all incredible, and the material, which is among the strongest of Stone’s career.

He never really made a great movie after this one. So check it out sometime.

[misscellophane-ao3]

Story title - Backstage Pt.2

Summary - Will meets Jonathan’s bandmates, one in particular catches his eye. (Second part to Backstage - read the first part here)

Pairing - Will Byers x Mike Wheeler (Background Jonathan Byers x Steve Harrington)

Warnings - Cursing

Words - 7,260

Story -

“Oh my god, you have a crush on Mike!? Michael Wheeler!? That Mike?” Max exclaimed with surprise.

Will watched as his best friend paced her room, throwing a baseball up and down in her hand. He eyed the ball as it narrowly missed the ceiling before landing back into the redhead's hand only for the process to repeat.

“Uh, yes? Do you know him?” He asked curiously.

Max scoffed “Do I know him? Will, he was in our English class! For two years! He sat a few seats behind you!”

Will blinked at her “Really? I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.” Or at least remember such a cute guy in his class.

“Nah, you were so fucking far in the closet at the time and way too focused on making people think you had a crush on fucking Tracy Davids. Tracy. Davids. Will, she put ketchup on her Cheetos!”

“Hey, Tracy wasn’t that bad! The Cheetos thing was a little...weird but I could have had a crush on her!” Will defended. It was a weak defense though and they both knew it.

Max stopped pacing and turned to him with a deadpan expression “Will, you are so gay it’s fucking hilarious. I just need to mention Chris Pratt and you light up like a Christmas tree.”

True to her words, Will felt his cheeks heat up. Damn it.

“See! Right there, that’s what I mean.” She grinned before jumping onto the bed next to him, “But did it really have to be Mike?” She asked with a huff.

“What’s wrong with Mike? He’s nice and cute and plays the guitar! He plays the guitar and sings Max! He sings! And plays guitar!” Will fell onto his back next to her, eyes bright.

Max rolled her eyes “Yeah, you keep mentioning that.”

“The guitar!” Will repeated giddy.

Max groaned theatrically “Will! Enough about his fucking guitar!”

Will shrugged “Fine. Have you heard him sing-“

“Oh my god. Shut up.” Max whined making Will laugh loudly.

“Sorry, Sorry.” Will snickered before nudging her, “So, why do you hate him?”

“I don’t hate him exactly.” Max started, she sat up with a sigh, “I just-“ She pressed her lips together and leaned back against her pillows, Will moved to sit with her.

“You just?” He prompted after a pregnant pause.

Max glared at her baseball, rolling it around in her hands as she said, “He’s friends with Lucas.” 

Who was- Will’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh! Your boyfriend!”

“Ex. Ex-boyfriend Will.” She corrected, sighing.

“You guys break up at least three times a day,” Will replied with an eye roll.

“Yeah, but he was a real dick this time. I don’t know if we’ll get back together.”

Will softened “Oh.”

“Enough about my shit.” She turned a teasing smile onto Will, “Mike? Really?”

Will groaned, pressing his face into his hands “Max!”

She laughed at him.

“Fucking Mike.”

“Max! Honestly.” Will started to laugh with her, they glanced at each other and started laughing even louder.

...

Mike paced his room, a light frown on his face.

El watched him with a deadpan expression.

“Seriously? This is why you called me here?”

Mike paused and turned to her “This is serious! I need help.” He slumped onto the bed next to her.

“Here’s an idea, just ask him out.” She suggested.

Mike lifted his head to glare at her “Not helpful.”

El sighed “Mike, honestly, just ask him out. He obviously likes you back, or have you forgotten that he stares at you pretty much the whole time we practice? Or the fact that he lights up like a Christmas tree whenever you talk to him?”

“That doesn’t mean anything! He stares at all of us, that’s what you do when you watch a band! And why wouldn’t he be flustered? I keep saying stupid shit!”

“I’m well aware,” El stated dryly.

“El, please. I really like him.”

El sighed again “Alright, fine.” She agreed, “But if you don’t want to ask him out then what do you need help with?” She asked.

“I want to ask him out! I just-“ Mike groaned and pressed his face into his pillow.

She was pretty sure she heard him say “I don’t know!”

She rolled her eyes “Mike. You either want to ask him out or you don’t or you are to chicken shit to even try. And you are definitely the last one right now.”

Mike huffed “Do you have to be so mean?”

“Do you have to be such a dumbass?” El retorted.

Mike flipped her off “Fuck you.” He grumbled into his pillow.

...

“Alright, alright!” Will gasped out in his laughter, “Enough.”

Max snorted and shook her head “But it’s fucking Mike!” She cackled.

Will gripped the pillow behind him and sat up before turning and smacking her with it.

“Gah, Will!” She yelped sitting up with narrow eyes.

He shot her a grin that she returned “Oh, it is on Byers!”

He barely had time to jump off the bed before a pillow came flying after him.

...

El patted Mike on his head “Okay, What did you want my help with then?” She asked with a sigh.

Mike was quiet for a moment before he lifted his head and sheepishly replied, “I need help on how to ask him out.”

El paused then grabbed the pillow from under his head and hit him with it “Mike Wheeler you dumbass!” She exclaimed.

Mike rolled off the bed onto the floor “Hey! Careful!”

She replied by tossing the pillow into his face, knocking him onto his back.

...

“Shut the fuck up!”

Max and Will froze at the shout, turning to look at the door.

“Uh,” Will swallowed, turning wide eyes onto Max.

Max grimaced “Guess dad is home early.”

Will and Max quietly went back to her bed.

“Max-“

“Don’t.”

Will nodded, throwing an arm over her shoulder “So, you gonna help me?”

Max sniffed “Why Will, are you asking me to help you embarrass the hell out of Mike so you can ask him out?”

Will blinked at her “I was hoping you could help me just ask him out actually.”

Max groaned dramatically “Ugh, fine. You are so lucky I like you, Byers.”

Will grinned, batting his lashes playfully “Oh Mayfield, you say the nicest things.” He cooed.

Max pushed his face away with a soft laugh “Dumbass.”

...

“El! What the hell.” Mike groaned as he sat up.

El huffed “You deserved it.” She said before she softened, “Why are you having such a difficult time with this? You asked me to be your girlfriend while handing me a slice of pizza.”

“Yeah," Mike replied, “But It’s also far easier to ask out someone you’re not actually attracted to.”

“I feel like I should be offended.” El said, “But then I remember that I'm also not attracted to you."

“Thanks.” Mike rolled his eyes.

...

“So, any ideas?” Will asked, picking up Max’s baseball from where it had fallen on the bed.

“Slap him,” Max replied with a grin.

Will snorted “Oh yeah, I’ll just walk right up and slap him. He’ll definitely go out with me then.”

Max shrugged, taking the baseball from Will and rolling it in her hands.

“How did you and Lucas get together?” Will asked, curiously.

“I confronted him about stalking me.”

Will paused “Wait, was he?” He didn’t remember that.

Max scoffed, lips twitching upwards and eyes glinting mischievously, “No. He just stared at me in class. But it was fun to tease him for it.”

Will rolled his eyes, amused.

“Of course you did.”

...

Mike, still on the ground, fell onto his back again, holding his pillow in his arms “I honestly don’t know what to do El.”

She sighed at her best friend “Let's start with something easy then, What do you like about him?” She asked.

“That’s difficult to answer,” Mike replied, staring at the ceiling.

“How?”

“Because I like all of him!" Mike exclaimed, "He’s amazing and caring and so fucking cute! He scrunches up his nose when he thinks something is stupid but is too polite to point it out, he’s ambidextrous and sometimes changes which hand he draws with just to see how different it’d look. He keeps a small stuffed cat in his pencil case that he named Tress after the Tressym monster in D&D and he doodles more then he takes notes. He loves horror movies and M&M’s. He doesn’t like bugs and will scream if he sees one. He’s just-“ Mike sighed, “Will.”

El blinked at him, eyes wide “Oh. You-you really like him.”

Mike sat up and stared at her “It’s more than that.” Mike swallowed, biting his lip before adding softly, “I love him.”

"Oh." El stared at him, surprised.

...

“How about you throw a pebble at his window and play a boom box?”

“Max! This isn’t the 80’s.”

“I’m sorry!” Max laughed, “I’m just still having a hard time with the fact that you like Mike.”

“He’s-“ Will smiled, “-really nice and caring and beautiful.”

Max brightened “Oh ho! Beautiful!? William Byers.” She nudged his arm with a massive grin.

Will flushed “Max!” He complained.

She laughed at him again before suggesting “Just do what you do best Will.”

“Which is?”

...

“Write him something?” El suggested after a long awkward pause. 

“I have.” He sighed.

“Yeah, but you never actually told him you did. And signing a heart doesn't count.” She pointed out, teasingly.

Mike felt heat creeping up his neck “Can you please stop bringing up that fucking poem?”

A grin slowly tugged up El's lips, Mike didn't have time to react before she clasped her hands together with a mock look of adoration and sighed out dramatically.

“Oh Will! You are so cute! Your eyes are like chocolate and your smile is like sunshine! Hon solo has nothing on you!”

Mike brought his hands up to cover his quickly reddening face “El! That wasn’t even in the poem!”

She cackled “Or was it?“

“It wasn't!” Mike whined, “Why do you even keep bringing it up?”

El snorted, a grin on her face “Because your reactions are hilarious.”

...

“Draw him something.” Max explained, shrugging, “It’s what you’re best at right?”

Will hummed “But would he even like it?”

Max nudged him again “Of course he would! Have you seen your drawings!?”

Will picked at his nail nervously as he said, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t it be a little weird to hand him a drawing just to ask him out?”

“Fine, write him a poem.” Max huffed.

Will blinked at her, hands stilling as he tilted his head “What?”

“You remember in, what was it? 6th? something like that, grade when you opened your locker and that paper was in it? The one with the really cheesy poem and the heart?”

Will nodded “Yeah, I wonder who actually wrote that. It was cute.” He smiled at the memory, he still had the poem hidden in one of his sketchbooks.

Max pointed at him “Exactly! Well, I mean, I don’t know about cute but you did like it. And he’s a singer, right? So wouldn’t he like it too?”

Will licked his lips anxiously, brows furrowed “I don’t think that's how it works.“

Max groaned dramatically, “Fine, how about you just, you know, walk up to him and ask him out.”

...

“Okay! No more poems!” Mike huffed, “I still can’t believe I even wrote one.”

El giggled “It was cute!” She argued.

“It was cringey! I bet it weirded him out.” Mike’s eyes widened in horror, “Oh no! What if he recognizes my handwriting and realizes I wrote that poem for him and he is so weirded out he’ll never talk to me again and he tells Jonathan and Jonathan leaves the band which makes Steve leave and the band breaks up!”

El took a moment to process that mouthful.

...

“Just walk up to him and ask him to go out? With me? On a date? With me?” Will repeated horrified.

Max nodded “Yes. That is what I meant.”

Will shook his head “Nope! No. I can’t just-“

Max raises her brows with the most unimpressed expression on her face “And why not?”

“Because I’m me and he’s-“

...

“El! Stop laughing! This is serious! What will I do!?” Mike fell onto his back again, his hands covered his face.

El was still snickering as she said, “That is the stupidest thing I ever heard.”

“El!”

“No seriously.” El snorted and nearly choked on her laughter, “Ignoring that last bit, which isn't gonna happen, Why do you think he would be able to remember your handwriting from years ago from a poem he probably didn’t even keep?"

Mike sat up, peeking through his hands sheepishly “I guess that is a stupid thing to worry about, huh?”

“Though it would be hilarious!” El nodded, still laughing. 

“El.”

...

“Will.” Max cut him off firmly, “Answer me this.” She set a hand on his shoulder, “Do you like him?”

“Yes.” Will replied with no hesitation.

“And does he like you?”

“Well, I think so? I mean, he is always flirting with me and smiling at me?” He said with furrowed brows. 

“Then what’s the problem? Do you think he’ll say no?”

“I don’t know. But he could.” Will shrugged, biting his thumbnail. 

Max sighed “Will-“

“Come with me to practice!” Will said, cutting her off.

Max blinked at him “What?”

“Come with me to practice.” Will repeated, “If you think he likes me back too then I’ll ask him out. I just-“ Will glanced away, adding softer, “I don’t want to make a fool of myself if he is just playing around.”

Max softened “Ugh, you know I hate live bands.” She paused then sighed, shooting him a look, “But fine, I’m curious about this too.”

...

“Why did I invite you over? Why am I friends with you?”

El, after catching her breath, rolled her eyes “Mike, just ask him.”

“But I can’t!”

“Why not?” She didn’t understand why Mike was being so difficult about this. It was obvious Will liked him back.

“Because I love him and I want it to be perfect! I don’t want to make a fool of myself!”

“You will never ask him out then.” She stated dryly.

Mike screamed into his pillow.

...

Jonathan stared at his brother who looked right back. He wasn't sure why Will looked so nervous, fidgeting with his hands and glancing away, he shelved the thought and turned back to the conversation much to Will's obvious relief.

“You want Max to come with to band practice tomorrow?” He repeated, just to be sure.

Will nodded “Yeah. If that’s okay with you?”

Jonathan shrugged “It’s fine with me, I’ll have to ask Steve but I’m sure he’ll be fine with it too.”

Will beamed “Thank you!”

Jonathan rolled his eyes fondly “Yeah yeah.” He debated asking Will if he was okay when his brother added on the way to the door,

“Tell your boyfriend thanks too if he agrees!” 

Jonathan threw his pillow at him “Get out of my room brat!”

Will laughed, closing the door just in time to avoid the fluffy projectile.

He'll have to ask another time, he thought as he turned back to his homework, ignoring the heat he could feel on his face.

...

El watched as Mike fiddled with his guitar strap nervously.

“Will you stop that? You’ll break it.”

Mike ignored her and glanced at the stairs “He should be here by now.” Mike said biting his lip.

“Jonathan said they would be a little late.” She reminded him.

“Why though? Do you think something happened?” His hands stilled on his strap, a look of worry on his face.

“Mike.” El sighed, “I’m sure he’s fine.” She didn't need to clarify who 'he' was considering it was obvious who Mike was really concerned about.

Steve walked into the room before Mike could reply.

“Hey, shrimps.” He greeted, ignoring Mike’s “We're the same height.”, he glanced around, “Jon not here yet?”

El shook her head “Nope.” She replied, popping the P.

Steve frowned, glancing back at the stairs he just came down “Do you think he’s alright?” He wondered.

“Maybe we should call them?” Mike suggested.

“You’re right! Something must have happened-“

El facepalmed “Why are my friends such idiots?” She asked herself before raising her voice to be heard, “Don’t call them. They already texted, they’re nearly here.”

“They are? That’s good, I’ll go wait upstairs for them then!” Steve ran back up the stairs before they could say anything. El rolled her eyes again. How was he and Jonathan not dating already? They were more obvious then Mike and Will. And that was saying something.

“How do you know that?” Mike asked suspiciously, arms crossed. It was a known fact that Jonathan never texted or answered calls when he was driving. 

El lifted her phone, shaking it a little as she said, “Because Will texted me.”

“You have Will’s number!?” Mike’s mouth dropped open, “Since when?”

“Since he gave it to me, like, two weeks ago?”

“And you didn’t tell me?!” Mike complained, “What kind of best friend are you?”

“If you want his number, you should ask him yourself,” El said dryly.

Mike frowned “But I already have it.” His eyes widened, “Oh god, what if he texted you and not me because I make him feel weird and he's finally realized it!?”

‘You certainly make him feel weird but it’s not because of what you think it is.’ She thought with a sigh, out loud she said,

"Calm down, I texted him first. That's why he didn't text you instead."

Mike sheepishly apologized.

...

"I'm nervous," Will said, staring out the window with wide-eyes.

Jonathan glanced at him and Max in the review mirror "Why?" Maybe he'll finally find out why Will was so anxious all day.

Max grinned "Because the idiot's gonna ask Mike out!" She explained.

Oh, that wasn't what Jonathan was expecting but he was glad it wasn't something more serious. He felt himself relax a bit at the thought.

"Max!" Will snapped his head towards Jonathan, waving his hand back and forth "I'm not asking him out! I just-"

Jonathan smiled at him reassuringly "It's alright Will. If it helps, he likes you too. I'm sure he'll say yes."

"You think?" Will stared at him, looking wary but hopeful.

Max poked him "See! Even Jonathan thinks he likes you back. Why am I here again?"

Will poked her back "To be a supportive friend." 

Jonathan hummed "So, you are asking him out then." He couldn't help but tease. 

He mentally chuckled at the deer in the headlights look Will shot him.

"I-"

"He is!" Max answered for Will, "And if he doesn't, I will do it for him."

Will turned to her with a huff "You are not slapping Mike." He stated sternly.

Jonathan quirked a brow "Slapping him?" He repeated, confused.

Max slumped "Ah, come on!" She complained, crossing her arms and pouting.

Jonathan wasn't sure he wanted to know.

...

"Mike, relax." El sighed as Mike paced back and forth, absently plucking at his guitar strings.

Mike groaned as he flopped back onto the couch "I'm going to freak him out! Why did I think he could like me back?" He threw an arm over his face and groaned again, louder.

El rolled her eyes "I'm only letting you be so fucking dramatic about this because I know you're really just panicking about potentially getting together with your gay awakening."

"I thought you weren't psychic?" Mike stated dryly, glancing at her. 

El shrugged "I have a cop for a dad. He taught me how to pick up on emotions and facial expressions." She reminded him.

"Oh right, him." Mike grimaced. He didn't have the best first impression with Hopper and it took a couple of years for the man to get used to Mike being around El, even more so after they started dating then broke up. They were fine now but Mike still held a hint of fear of the man from the 'shovel talk' he gave Mike when he started dating El and the second one after they broke up.

"Yeah, him." El laughed.

...

Will swallowed nervously as they pulled up to the house.

Max rolled her eyes at him "Dude, chill."

Will turned to her with wide eyes "What if he wasn't flirting and I was only imagining that he was and he is so weirded out when I try to ask him out that he laughs at me and never talks to me again and writes a song about how weird I was and it becomes number one on the charts and I have to hear it on the radio and start crying because I was an idiot that one time and just had to open my mouth!?"

"First off, breathe. Second," She turned to Jonathan, "Is Mike a huge dick?"

Jonathan snorted "Hell no. He's softer than a puppy in a sweater." He shut the car off and turned to face Will, "He would never do that to you, Will. Not that I even think he'd want to. He seems to really like you, you don't have to worry about it." 

"Really?" Will asked, teary-eyed, Jonathan nodded with a gentle smile.

Max, on the other hand, slapped the back of his head "Stop being an overdramatic dumbass. You're adorable. Of course he'll say yes."

Will glared at her as he rubbed the back of his head "Ow." 

"Well, we're here. Come on." Jonathan cut in as he opened his door.

Will swallowed nervously again as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

...

Mike jumped up when he heard the doorbell, nearly strangling himself with the guitar strap he was messing with. He quickly sorted it out, ignoring El staring at him deadpan. 

"Okay, you need to chill." El stated, "Even Steve isn't as bothered as you." 

"Steve hasn't had a huge embarrassing crush on Will Byers since he was ten." Mike retorted instantly, glancing at the staircase and biting his lip nervously.

El shrugged, eyes glinting with laughter "No, but he does have a huge embarrassing crush on Will's brother." 

...

"Hey, Jon!" Steve greeted as he opened the door, a bright grin on his face. He set a hand on the doorframe as he added, "I thought something might have happened, you're never late."

Jonathan smiled back "Yeah, sorry. We had to stop and get Max first. She lives in the opposite direction of you."

Steve seemed to finally see Will and Max next to Jonathan as he pulled his hand back, holding it out to Max with a smile, "You must be Will's friend. I'm Steve, nice to meet you."

Max glanced at his hand but made no move to take it "Yup. Hi." She said as she crossed her arms and stared at him.

Will snorted and Jonathan cleared his throat as Steve blinked dumbly at her before dropping his hand to his side "Right. Come on in."

Jonathan stepped in with a sheepish smile, "Sorry about her." He said as they headed for the basement.

"Nah, it's okay! I don't mind." Steve grinned, throwing an arm around Jonathan's shoulder.

"Uh, right." Jonathan cleared his throat, looking away.

...

"I see you're not the only one with a crush on a band member." Max teased as she and Will walked behind Jonathan and Steve.

Will snickered "Nope. Steve is so fucking obvious too. I'm surprised Jonathan hasn't asked him out yet."

Max pretended to cough as she said "Hypocrite."

Will shoved her and she laughed "Hey, just sayin' the truth!"

Will hummed "I know, but I don't want to jinx it." He lowered his voice so as not to be heard, "Jonathan really likes him."

Max snorted "I think they'll be fine." She replied nodding towards the pair, Steve was still grinning at Jonathan, his eyes locked onto the blonde with the most lovesick expression she'd ever seen. She wasn't even sure if Steve even realized he was doing it which made it even more sickeningly cute.

Will's lip twitched upwards at the sight.

“Speaking of,” Max started, raising her brows suggestively.

“Nope. Don’t jinx it!”

…

"Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck." Mike ran his fingers through his hair, fixed his shirt collar and smoothed out his fringe. He set his guitar down before picking it back up only to set it down again, his hand twitched against his thigh.

El rolled her eyes amused "You look fine. Relax."

"I am relaxed-" He froze, head snapping to the staircase as voices and footsteps suddenly rang down towards them, "Fuck. Okay, I am so not relaxed."

El tugged him back onto the couch next to her when he just stood stock-still "First off, sit down."

Mike opened his mouth then snapped it shut as Steve, Jonathan, Will, and a red-head appeared. Jonathan accidentally stumbled on the last step and Steve instantly caught him with wide eyes "You okay?" He asked.

Jonathan nodded, cheeks red "Uh, yeah. Thanks." He waited a moment longer than necessary to pull away from Steve, coughing and looking away.

Will laughed and the redhead shook him with a grin "I told you!"

Steve looked at them with confusion "What?"

The pair shared a look before laughing again.

Jonathan huffed "Don't bother." He told Steve then gave his brother a look which just made him laugh harder and lean against the redhead.

"Uh, alright?" Steve shook his head with obvious confusion before turning to Mike and El, brightly calling out a "Hey guys!"

Jonathan nudged Will without looking "Hey Mike, El." He greeted.

Will turned to them too and smiled "Oh, hey."

Max grinned playfully at Will "Oh, hey." She repeated.

Will lightly shoved her with his elbow "Shut up." He huffed, embarrassed.

Max turned to the pair on the couch "What's up. I'm Max. Mike and El right? I think we had classes together before.”

…

Mike stared at the redhead, frozen in place. 

Why was she here? 

“Why is she here?” Mike hissed at El. The girl could only cover her mouth as she laughed.

“El,” Mike whined.

“I’m sorry, but this is hilarious.” El cleared her throat then turned to the others, “Hi Max! Yeah, it’s nice to see you again.” 

Max grinned right back “You too! El right?”

“Yup!” El beamed.

Max then turned a little smirk onto Mike “And Michael Wheeler.”

“Just call me Mike.” He sighed. She was going to be tormenting him this whole time, wasn’t she? 

Will jabbed her side and shot Mike a smile (A very beautiful smile in Mike’s opinion).

“Enough flirting! It’s practice time.” Steve cut in.

“You should stop looking in the mirror when you talk.” Mike shot back instantly.

Steve cleared his throat “I did not ask for sass.”

“You didn’t deny it!” El sang cheerfully.

Both Jonathan and Steve turned red.

“Whatever! Practice time you gremlins!”

“What kind of music do you guys even play?” Max asked, “Like, are you a cover band or do you write your own songs?”

Steve lit up “Both! We all write a little bit. But mostly Mike and I write the songs."

“Oh? Hear that Will? Mike writes songs.” She said pointedly, her eyes lit up with mirth.

“I heard.”

“Maybe he could write you one sometime!” El chipped in, Max shot her a grin that she happily returned.

Were they ganging up on him!? That was so unfair.

…

Will felt his face heat up.

“Shut up Max.” He turned to Mike, “You don’t have to write me anything.” He quickly assured.

“I wouldn’t mind writing you a song,” Mike replied with a wink.

Will mentally screamed. Mike was going to kill him if he kept this up.

Max snickered “I’m sure you wouldn't.” She said with a massive grin.

Will shot his brother a pleading look which Jonathan thankfully caught.

“Alright, alright! Time for practice. Will, you and Max can sit on the couch.”

Max grabbed his arm and tugged him to the couch. 

“Sweet! I hate live bands just by the way.”

“Why are you here then?” Mike grumbled as he headed over to his spot near the drums, picking up his guitar on the way.

“Because I’m Will's best friend.” She instantly replied, “And I could use some entertainment.” She added with a mischievous grin on her face.

Of course she found Will attempting to flirt entertaining.

Will shot her a look and she shrugged, her eyes glittering with delight.

Will regretted asking her to come with him already.

Mike didn’t have a response for that, just shot her a narrowed eyed look before smiling at Will.

…

Max glanced at Will and rolled her eyes in amusement when she saw he was staring pretty obviously at Mike. She tapped his arm.

“See something you like?”

Will’s cheeks turned red as he glanced at her.

“Wha-I-He-Mike-“ Will stammered, eyes wide.

She snickered, “Mike what?”

Will huffed, cheeks darkening even more, “He has a nice voice.” He stated quietly, embarrassed.

“Mmh, sure it’s just his voice you like?” She teased.

...

Will was so glad the others were focused on practicing and that the noise from the band drowned out their conversation.

“Max.” 

“What? Just stating the obvious.” She glanced over to the band then back to Will, “If it helps, he is staring right back at you.”

Will snapped his gaze over to Mike catching his eye. His breath hitched as Mike grinned at him and winked playfully.

“Max,” He breathed out quietly, “I think I like him.” 

Max, of course, just started laughing.

“Oh really? I’d have never guessed!”

Will shoved her playfully.

"But hey, I think he likes you too."

Will bit his lip "You think?"

Max nodded her head "Yup! Believe me, he has heart eyes whenever he looks at you."

Will rolled his eyes "He does not."

"He does! Anyway, you're gonna ask him out, right?" Max asked.

Will breathed in, held it for a second, then out "You think I should?"

"Yes." Max rolled her eyes before brightening, a teasing look on her face "I'll even help give you the perfect opportunity!" 

Will furrowed his brows, wary "And how would you do that?"

She waved him off "You'll see."

He wasn't sure if he wanted to.

The practice went on for about another hour before Steve decided they needed a break. El called out that she was going up to the upstairs bathroom since she didn’t like the one down here, leaving just the five of them alone, Mike was fiddling with his guitar and Steve and Jonathan were talking about something or other. He honestly wasn't sure what but they were both smiling so it didn't really matter.

Max’s eyes lit up, she leaned over to Will “Now’s your chance.” 

Will shot her a look “What?”

She didn’t reply, just grinned at him and ran over to Steve, startling him.

“Hey! Show me around! I wanna see this place.” She grabbed Steve’s arm and dragged him towards the stairs before he could reply.

“Wait, what? Jon help!” 

"He can come!" Max added as she dragged Steve up the stairs.

Jonathan laughed but followed after them, calling out “Don’t traumatize him, Max!” 

“No promises!” Max chimed back, voice fading as she got further away.

Jonathan rolled his eyes fondly “We’ll be right back.” He said as he headed up the stairs after them.

Will didn’t know whether to thank Max or curse her out for this. He glanced over to Mike who was standing by his guitar stand, a look of (adorable) confusion on his face. 

…

Mike swallowed nervously. He wasn’t even sure why. Though, it may have to do with the fact that he and Will were currently alone in the basement. Him and Will. Alone. Oh god. 

They had been left alone before, but Mike hadn’t been actively planning on asking Will out during those times. 

What does he do? What does he say? 

“Just ask him out.” 

He mentally flipped off the El in his head.

Fuck. They were alone. Mike did what he always did when he was nervous, he unplugged his guitar from the amp and sat on the couch, strumming out nonsensical sounds.

And thankfully, before he could embarrass himself, Will spoke up. 

...

Will glanced at Mike, a quirk to his lips.

“You're really good at that.” He said, “Guitar, I mean. And singing.” Will felt his face heat up, “You’re a, uh, really good singer.”

Mike smiled at him “Thanks. Didn’t spend three summers at music camp for nothing.”

“You went to a music camp?” Will asked with light surprise.

Though, he wasn’t sure why he was. Mike seemed like the kind of person who would enjoy that kind of thing, getting to play his guitar all summer.

“Yeah, it’s alright I guess. Nothing like camp rock made it out to be though. I feel cheated.”

Will laughed “What? You wanted to pretend to be a camper while helping out in the kitchen, embarrass yourself, fall in love with an angsty singer, and embarrass yourself again?”

Mike snorted, a grin on his face “Actually, I was more hoping for a giant concert to prove my camp was better than the one across the lake. That looked like a lot of fun.” 

“Poor you, guess you’d just have to settle for regular old music camp. What do you even do there? Just learn to play instruments and sing around a campfire?”

Mike hummed “A little more than that but basically.” Mike glanced him over, “Do you play an instrument?”

Will looked at him deadpan “We’ve been over this, the only musical talent I have is singing my ABC's.”

“Ah, come on, there has to be at least something you wanted to learn to play before?”

Will hummed in thought “I don’t know. I guess I’ve always found drawing more interesting.”

…

“You are a pretty great artist,” Mike said honestly.

It was the truth. Mike really loved seeing all the things Will scribbled onto paper. Though according to El, Will could draw a circle and Mike would still insist it be hung in a museum. Mike ignored the fact that it was probably true.

Will shook his head “I’m not that good. There are so many others in my class who are better than me.”

“But they're not you.” Mike said, “And even if they were better, I still lov-like your drawings more!”

Mike felt his heart leap into his throat. He couldn’t believe he was about to say he loved Will. This was definitely not the time for that.

Will smiled at him and Mike fell a little more in love. He was just so beautiful. And Mike knew he sounded cheesy but it was true. Will was beautiful.

“Thanks.” 

…

“Just stating the truth,” Mike replied with another wink.

This guy was going to be the death of him. Seriously. 

“Still, thanks.” Will swallowed and glanced around, Mike went back to strumming his guitar.

Will found his eyes drifting back to Mike though when the other started humming, the idle strumming slowly becoming an actual beat. Though the song sounded unfamiliar to Will. Maybe it was something the band hadn't practiced in front of him yet?

“What are you singing?” Will asked, curious. It was a soft tune, a bit upbeat but mostly slow. Will kinda liked it.

Mike paused his humming, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open an inch.

“Uh.”

Was he embarrassed? Was it something Mike was working on that he didn’t want anyone to know about yet?

“You don’t have to tell me.” Will quickly assures, not wanting to seem like he was forcing Mike to tell him.

…

“No, it’s alright. It’s just-“ Mike swallowed nervously, feeling his face heat up. He couldn’t believe Will caught him humming this specific song. 

The song Mike had written about him. 

“Just?” Will tilted his head, looking adorable.

Mike kept his eyes on his guitar “Uh, just-It’s just a song I wrote.”

“Oh,” Will nodded, “I liked it. The beat I mean, I have no idea what the lyrics are, of course, since you didn’t sing them, if you even have lyrics yet-I’m rambling. Sorry.” Will tilted his head downwards, one of his hands coming up to cover his face.

Mike huffed a laugh “Thanks. And it does have lyrics.” He swallowed thickly, why did he say that?

Will dropped his hand, looking up at Mike through his lashes “Really? What’s it about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You.

Mike wanted to say but he wasn’t sure how Will would react.

“Uh, it’s a song,” Mike tapped his finger against the rim of his guitar, “About someone.”

Will blinked, eyes glancing away then back “Oh.” He paused, “A love song?” His voice was quiet, soft, almost hesitant as he spoke.

Mike flicked his eyes over to him “Yeah.” He breathed out. 

…

Will pushed back the wave of disappointment he felt at Mike’s confirmation that he had written a love song.

“I see.” He bit his lip, staring at the drum set across the room, “Was it...about El?”

Mike snorted and he looked back to see a grin of disbelief on his face “El? You do remember I’m gay right?”

“You could have written it when you were dating her!” Will defended.

“Those three awkward weeks definitely made me want to write a love song for her. Yup.” Mike laughed.

“Oh, shut up.” Will elbowed him, his lips twitching upwards unconsciously.

“It’s not about El. I love her but more like a sister.” 

Will nodded “Whose it about then? Or is it just like, something you wrote about your dream boy?”

“Dream boy?” Mike repeated amused, “What are you? Ten?”

“Hey!” Will exclaimed, “Everybody thinks about who they’d like as a partner!” 

“Do you?” 

…

Will looked briefly surprised at the question before he nodded “Yeah. As I said, everybody thinks about it!”

“What is your dream boy like then?” Mike asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Will pressed his lips together, shrugging “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You just said you thought about it.” Mike asked bewildered.

“Well yeah, but-“ Will shrugged again, “I guess I never really cared? Like, as long as they love me for me and are nice and funny, I wouldn’t really care?” Will shot him a look, “What about you?”

“Me?” 

“Yeah, what is your dream boy like?”

Mike's attention drifted for a moment as Will stared at him, his heart pounded in his chest. All he could think about was Will. Will was his type. El would call him an idiot romantic but he honestly didn't think he would ever be able to like someone as much as he liked Will Byers. 

And as Will looked at him with his head tilted, eyes gleaming with interest and all his attention on Mike-

“You.” The word slipped out before he could think to hold it back.

Well, fuck.

Both of their eyes widened and Mike started to stammer, words flowing out of him in an effort to fix his slip-up “Ah, well, uh, I mean-Someone like you! Not you specifically, Not saying you are bad or anything! I definitely wouldn’t mind dating you. I mean! Lots of people probably want to date you, you’re really cute, not saying I want to- not that I’m saying I wouldn’t want to, I mean, I definitely would but- fuck.” Mike froze, he felt his heart leap into his throat as embarrassed horror filled him. He glanced over Will’s face. His eyes were wide, mouth open in shock and his face a bright red.

Shit. How did he fuck up so badly?

It was silent for a long breathtaking moment before Will’s expression brightened and he started to laugh.

His stomach dropped but before he could run away mortified, Will spoke up.

“I’m sorry! I’m not laughing at you, I swear. That just- I wasn’t expecting that.” Will managed to get out between giggles, gesturing his hand wildly at Mike, he then took that same hand and pressed it against his mouth, trying to cover his growing smile, eyes glinting with amusement.

Mike watched him for a moment, his own lips twitching upwards, a sense of relief filling him, that...wasn't necessarily a rejection, was it? “That was pretty stupid wasn’t it?” 

“Not stupid!” Will paused, before snorting, “Okay, a little stupid. But cute.” Will smiled at him.

Mike pressed his lips together, trying to keep the grin on his face at bay “Cute?” He repeated.

...

Will’s breath hitched as he realized what he said, “I, well, I mean-“ 

“Is it your turn to ramble?” Mike asked with a little teasing smirk.

Will sniffed and gave him a faux annoyed look “I was probably about to but I won’t anymore, asshole.”

“Hey, no fair! I can’t be the only one to make a fool out of myself!”

“Too bad. I’m not doing it anymore.” 

Mike groaned “Jackass.” Fondness cut down on the aggressiveness of the word, “I demand a redo.”

“A redo?” Will shook his head amused.

“Yeah, a redo! I want to answer without making a fucking idiot out of myself.”

“How about I just ask you out instead?” Will shot back, hoping he wasn't making a mistake.

“Ask me out?” Mike repeated, sounding surprised.

Will nodded, pulling his confidence out of nowhere, “I mean, I didn’t get every word but I think I got the gist?” There was a hopeful lit to his tone, he knew. But how could there not be? Mike just pretty much said he would date Will. If Will heard him right anyway. 

Mike cleared his throat, staring at Will “And-And what gist is that?” 

Will licked his lips “You like me too.” He breathed out.

“Too?” Mike repeated, wide-eyed.

Will hummed “Yeah, too.” He said softly, locking eyes with Mike.

”Oh.” Mike breathed out then he held his hand out, palm up “Well then, Will Byers, Will you go on a date with me?” He asked.

Will took his hand with a pout that was more a smile “I was supposed to ask you that.”

”Too bad. I got there first.” Mike replied playfully.

Will huffed a laugh. 

“So?” 

Will laced their hands together, glancing up at Mike through his lashes. He stared at him for a moment, a little grin tugging at his lips before nodding.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

They turned in surprise to see Max and El on the staircase leaning around the doorway, watching them with large smiles on their faces.

“How long have you been standing there!?” Will squeaked out, horrified.

Max cackled “Long enough.”

“You guys are ridiculously cute. It’s weird.” El added brightly. 

Mike threw the closet thing, which was a throw pillow, at her “Fuck off.”

The girls laughed again before running up the stairs.

“So, uh,” Mike turned back to Will, “You free Saturday?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. You can pick me up, if-if you want to?” Will agreed shyly, still a little embarrassed from being spied on by Max and El.

Mike nodded, a giant grin on his face “Yes! I mean, uh, sure. Yeah, I can pick you up.”

“Cool.”

”Cool.”

They shared another smile. 

“You guys are so lame!” Max shouted down the stairs.

”Shut up Max!” Will called back with a huff, he glanced at Mike, who looked utterly shocked, and started laughing, Mike quickly joined him.

[thetwotees]

THE MYSTERY OF HIDDLESTON

This is an interview published in the Finnish film magazine “Episodi” in February 2017. Interview by Marta Balaga. Translation by me @TomTheNextLevel

It’s great to be Tom Hiddleston. Ever since his breakthrough role as Marvel’s God Of Mischief Loki his fame has been on the up. The end result? A legion of dedicated Hiddlestoners and a Golden Globe for the TV series “The Night Manager”.

Now the old Etonian’s career has reached a new high as he gets to measure his worth as an action hero in the 190 million dollar adventure “Kong : Skull Island”.

Except …

It’s crap to be Tom Hiddleston. Crimson Peak flopped badly, and less said about his version of Hank Williams in the biopic “I Saw The Light”, the better. The short affair with Taylor Swift demoted him from one of the hottest new stars to tabloid fodder. Even the Golden Globe win didn’t help. His thank you speech was criticised as massively egotistical. One of the nicer comments on twitter was “No wonder Swift called it a day.”

Now that “Kong : Skull Island” finally hits the big screen it’s time to forget the famous words “it was beauty killed the beast”. This time the beast might save the beauty’s career.

Before the interview we had some time to recall some of Hiddleston’s most memorable appearances on various chat shows on TV.

You yodel and do some brilliant impersonations. Don’t you ever relax?

I try not to take myself too seriously on chat shows. The whole idea of them is to entertain. I tune in to the wavelength of the host and have fun. I think of it as mucking about rather than putting on a show. And it’s a relief – I tend to get lost in my own head.

Acting is like having an endless conversation about identity – how we explain our personalities … even to ourselves. I am Tom. I’m from London. This is my family, this is how I was schooled. This is how I dress, this is how I speak. But we go through it daily and identity is more fluid than most want to admit. It’s entertaining to play with it.

Is that why you choose the most contrasting roles that defy compartmentalization?

I look into my potential to change myself into a different person. I’ve set myself a challenge to find something in common in superficially similar people all across the mankind by taking on different roles. It has been very humane because at the end of the day we are all motivated by the same things: loss, love, grief.

Can you do that when you play the Marvel villain?

I don’t differentiate between roles like that. Maybe I think that being a villain and a hero are connected by what choices you make. Villains make bad choices. Heroes choose well. But in the end we are all part of the same human mass. People are genuinely multi-faceted and conflicting characters and so is Loki. That’s my approach to a role whether it’s Shakespeare or “Kong : Skull Island”.

You were a Kong fan before?

I’ve always liked Kong. Especially what is says about the awesome power of nature. It’s a very humbling story because it makes you think how small we really are. But nowadays it’s rare to get to act in a film like this. I mean damn, it’s a King Kong film! You can’t compare it to anything.

Am I right in saying this story is set in the 1970’s?

That is something (director) Jordan (Vogt-Roberts) wanted to stick to right from the beginning. Back then technology wasn’t as developed, it was easier to believe in mysteries. It’s nice that somebody wanted to make a film that feels like that. He wanted to have that rough around the edges atmosphere just after the end of the Vietnam war.

An actor has to react to what he sees and Jordan made that surprisingly easy. We travelled to Australia, Vietnam, Hawaii. We were constantly outside. We were filming in real environments which isn’t a given (in films any more) and that was an enormous help. When you are physically in a real place it’s easier to react. Vietnam especially was a fantastic place. In a way it’s a very retro movie. Even my dialogue with Brie Larson, who plays a war photographer, has hints of old Hollywood.

You got to travel when you were making The Night Manager as well …

We went to Switzerland, Morocco, Majorca. The most important place was London though as I did my own research at the Rosewood Hotel in Holborn. The night manager there has been on the job for 25 years and he was perfect. He told me how to treat people so they feel welcome. It was fascinating to watch what sort of discipline and forgetting about your own needs it requires. Running a hotel is like theatre. There’s the stage and the scenes behind. The whole thing is like a performance that depends upon planning the minute details and taking everything in consideration.

I was trying to think about Pine’s army career and the needed know-how he has. He enjoys the anonymity a uniform gives you. The guilt and the shame he feels because Roper (played by Hugh Laurie) benefits from death and killing drives him to be an agent. As an ex-solider he understands the ramification of arms dealing. I haven’t been a solider although I’ve played one many times. Even in Kong … My character is an ex British Air Force captain who is traumatised because he was in the war in Vietnam.

I appreciate what they do. Although I am a pacifist and would rather go through all other available options before the army needs to step in I find it incomprehensibly brave that some people are ready to die for their country or their ideology.

There’s another character with an army background: Bond.

Listen, if they ask it will a massive day for me. Nowadays we spy on ourselves, we live under constant surveillance but you get the feeling the talks about our safety are being held behind closed doors and we’ll never find out about them. The secrets behind the curtains are fascinating because today there people who hide amongst us. Maybe that’s why spy stories have a made a comeback.

Do you still believe art can change the world or has the commercial side of it made you more cynical?

Art can inspire, challenge, make you sad and give you joy. I really believe that because it’s happened to me. I felt a great connection to Mike Leigh’s films when I was younger. I saw “Secrets & Lies” (1996) when I was about 16 and the humanity in the film touched me. When I saw “The Constant Gardener” the world felt bigger than I had imagined. Art can be an emotional key.

I made friends with a doctor from Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) He does brave things, travels around war zones and operates on children’s brains to remove bullets. He told me got the inspiration to become a a surgeon after seeing “The Killing Fields”. Art has the power to change the world by guiding us in the right direction.

You can also read the article online (in Finnish) HERE

[junker-town]

Shohei Ohtani is pretty good, Andrew McCutchen is a delight, and Tim Tebow is in this headline for SEO purposes

Welcome to Monday, baseball fans. Here’s some baseball.

Can you follow everything that happens in baseball every week? Man, I sure can’t. So every week, I dig back through the archives and tweets and videos and recaps and look for interesting baseball things to share with you on Monday. The best part is that I’ll miss a whole bunch, which is definitely a feature, not a bug. It wouldn’t be baseball if a week’s worth of action could be explained in a few hundred words.

But there are some baseball things that are impossible to miss. Here, then, are those baseball things. While the categories and sections will rotate from week to week, the first one will be an absolute constant. This first section will always posit that ...

Baseball is good, actually

Baseball friends, I promise you that this section will not be a secret way of sneaking Giants-related content into this weekly recap. There were not a lot of times that I watched the Giants last year and thought, “Yes, baseball is good, actually.”

While I’m anticipating a much better season, it’s likely that they are the sixth- or seventh-best team in the National League if everything goes right. This section almost certainly will not feature the Giants very often.

But, sweet Njörðr, look at this at-bat from Andrew McCutchen in the bottom of the 14th inning:

I’ve been hard on MLB Advanced Media in the past because of how they’ve intentionally limited how some of their videos can be shared. Looking for something older than two years ago can be a nightmare. Basically, they never think about me, the baseball writer who needs to lazily embed something whenever he needs it.

But this video is exactly what you need to understand that baseball is good, actually. Someone in charge took this entire 12-pitch at-bat and presented it unedited, allowing you to drink in the mounting tension and expectations, and it was a brilliant decision. It’s not just that McCutchen hit a walk-off home run in the bottom of the 14th; it’s that he directed the whole thing like Kubrick, piece by piece, setting up the reveal at the end.

I’m a sucker for a lot of baseball things, but I’m really a sucker for two very specific baseball things:

Andrew McCutchen

At-bats where the hitter keeps fouling pitches off again and again and again and again and again

This at-bat had it all, really. It started with a muffed strike call, and it quickly went against McCutchen after Wilmer Font fuzzed him with a wicked fastball running in on his hands. If he popped up the next pitch, nobody would have blamed him. Instead, he turned into a living Rocky IV montage, fouling pitches off again and again and ...

One thing that I love about baseball is the idea that all of those foul balls are examples of the hitter failing. Font’s job was to make the hitter not do what he wanted with the ball. McCutchen’s job was to hit the ball somewhere where it couldn’t be caught. Framed like that, Font won. He got McCutchen to do something he wasn’t trying to do.

Instead, it ended with McCutchen hitting a dinger and reacting with a broken water main of emotion that had been building pressure since the first pitch. It was mostly perfect.

And maybe — maybe — the fact that it was against the Dodgers in the 14th inning will color my judgment just a little bit. But I’d like to think that if McCutchen were on the Twins, and he did this against the Rays, it would be just as notable.

Because look at that museum-quality at-bat. Carve pictographs of that at-bat into the side of an interstellar probe and let alien civilizations learn about baseball.

What Shohei Did

Well, this section sure feels a lot different this week.

Last week, it was still okay to be cautiously optimistic about Shohei Ohtani. He had one quality start under his belt, albeit with a ton of strikeouts. He was 1-for-5. This all came after a rough spring. So you’ll forgive me if prudence was the better part of valor in this case.

And then Ohtani started firing lighting bolts out of his eyes and demanding our fealty. Yes, yes, we cried. We are yours to do with as you wish. We’re so sorry, Shohei. How could we have been so blind?

The Shohei-o-meter just seven days ago was stuck on “timid,” and we spent an hour on the phone with tech support trying to get it unstuck.

Shohei-o-meter: half-Luis Castillo, half-Gregor Blanco

See, he was a wild, unproven fireballer with a .200 average, so I thought ... look, forget it. I was wrong.

Let’s update that Shohei-o-meter:

Shohei-o-meter: half-Tim Lincecum in his prime, half-Bryce Harper

THIS IS WHAT WE WERE PROMISED.

Deep breaths. Stay with me. But it’s completely okay to freak out.

This doesn’t mean that we’ll keep getting it all year. He could be half-Vince Velasquez, half-Eric Thames, where the early returns are drowned by a tidal wave of baseball being extremely hard.

Still, if you can’t get excited about this fastball-splitter combination, you hate baseball and are already googling “2019 Oscar frontrunners.” Look at this marvelous baseball player:

That is peak Tim Lincecum. I saw it. I lived it. I breathed it. He doesn’t know exactly where the ball is going, but he knows two things: The fastball goes fast and the splitter goes prrrowwwwww down into the abyss. If those two things can hold steady, he isn’t just a Rookie of the Year candidate. He’s a Cy Young candidate.

Maybe we should see him against another team that isn’t the A’s before getting nutty, but it’s worth pointing out that the Athletics are stuffed with solid hitters. It’s possible that they’re especially susceptible to splitters that go prrrowwwwww down into the abyss. All of this still might be a mirage.

Wouldn’t it be a lot cooler if it weren’t, though? Wouldn’t it be a lot cooler if he were a Cy Young candidate every year with a 900 OPS?

It would. It absolutely would.

The best part is that I don’t even have to mention the three home runs in three consecutive games to make you impressed about Shohei Ohtani. Because peak Tim Lincecum was just about the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen, so if he’s already that, he’s a baseball legend.

Ohtani hitting dinger after dinger, though, is the kind of thing that’s going to melt our hearts and follow this story wherever it goes. He’s even better than advertised right now. That’s probably not going to last, but what if it does?

John Sterling calls a famous home run throughout history

It is high! It is far! It is gone!

Sho-hei can you see? By the ball’s distant flight!

What so proudly we hailed, at that pitch’s last gleaming!

it’s so cold in here, is anyone else cold, i’m freezing, i’m not proud of this, please get me a blanket, why is it so cold

THIS WEEK IN “AW, RASPBERRIES”

Good things can happen when you put the ball in play. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#walkoff pic.twitter.com/wKJRkLrM7i

— MLB (@MLB) April 8, 2018

aw raspberries

A grown man bought this baseball card on purpose

This was $1 plus shipping, and I bought it for a couple reasons. The first is Ted Williams. The second is that Ted Williams is about to hit Mike Epstein with a bat because of his sideburns.

Is it possible that Williams had such incredible bat control that he could can hit someone with a bat and make it hurt, but not incapacitate them or cause lingering damage? Is it possible that he could hit someone with a bat just hard enough to make their sideburns fall off but cause no other injuries?

No, it is not possible. It is absolutely guaranteed. He could hit you with a bat on the back of your ankle and make you sterile for exactly eight years if you wanted. He was just that good. And if you think that’s hyperbole, look what popped up when I was looking for the above image on my computer:

When you opened that box, Ted Williams would pop out and hit you with a bat until you were temporarily sterile. And you were fine with it. This is how things were done back then.

Also, I think it’s fine and normal to have a file called “Ted Williams condoms.jpeg” on your computer and not remember that it exists. It is absolutely fine and normal.

This week in McGwire/Sosa

It’s the 20th anniversary of Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa transfixing the country with their historic chase. It’s also the 20th anniversary of:

McGwire: 21 AB, 0 HR (4 total), .333/.438/.429 Sosa: 27 AB, 1 HR (2 total), .400/.444/.600

The race is still nothing at this point. Sosa had a hot week, but he had seven singles and two doubles mixed in. McGwire was hitting like an especially focused Chone Figgins.

Later in this season, enough baseball things would happen to make someone decide to make a Mark McGwire/Sammy Sosa diecast semi-truck.

At this point in the 1998 season, though, they’re just a couple of baseball players, doing normal things. Sometimes they hit the ball, and sometimes they don’t. That’s how you play this wacky game, ha ha. No big deal.

Also, because of this stupid article, I finally bought one of those trucks on eBay. I hope you’re happy.

Let us study this baseball thing

The U.S. Olympic men’s curling team got to throw out the first pitch for the Twins’ Opening Day. That’s incredibly regional and exciting and regionally exciting. It’s also exciting for the rest of the country because, heck yeah, gold medal curlers. It’s an honor for them, and it’s an honor for us.

What could possibly go wrong?

I can't stop watching the gif of the gold medal-winning US Olympic curling team throwing out the first pitches at the Twins home opener. It's the most inspiring thing I've ever seen. I'd read an oral history about this. pic.twitter.com/7FWhRZ6wO9

— ℳatt (@matttomic) April 6, 2018

Oh, noooooooooooo.

The crowd reaction to USA men's curling team first pitches in MN yesterday pic.twitter.com/5WZarp0GNE

— That Dude (@cjzer0) April 6, 2018

nooooooooooooooo

The good news it that we get to study this baseball thing. For it started with such hope and optimism.

Anyone can throw a first pitch in a baseball game. But it takes a special person (or group of people) to get the enter-from-center-field-to-throw-a-first-pitch treatment. Gold medal winners get that treatment. The downside, though, is that expectations are incredibly unfair. This isn’t something that’s blurting out of the loudspeaker while people are finding their seats. This is something that’s supposed to be watched.

If you watch the video, at 2:17, the guy in the middle, Tyler George, turns to his teammate and says, “Ready?” He’s fired up.

EDUARDO ESCOBAR: [record scratch] Yep, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.

You can see how it’s George who screws this all up. He throws the ball first, and he almost kills Tyler Kinley, there only because of the Byzantine red tape of the Rule 5 Draft. Because Kinley has to protect his face, the second-from-left pitcher looks much worse than he otherwise might have, though it’s not like he did himself any favors. The guy on the right throws a gull-killer that almost leaves orbit, too. It’s an incredible mess.

For my money, though, I’m most impressed by the commitment of the fellow who decided to “curl” the baseball and roll it to his catcher. If they had all done this, it would have been funny! Whimsical! And I’ll bet that idea was floated, but I’ll bet George was like, oh, heck no, I get one first pitch in my life, and I’m gonna chuck it.

Because there was exactly one guy rolling the ball to home plate, though, it looked bizarre beyond words. It looked like he was screwing up almost as much as everyone else, even though he’s just doing a bit.

Please acknowledge the calm, collected first pitch of John Shuster, the captain of the medal-winning team. He’s the one on the left, and he threw a perfect pitch that absolutely no one will remember.

“What the crap was that?”, he asks. You’ll notice that there are only four curlers in this picture. That’s because George is already off screen, apologizing profusely for winning a gold medal for screwing up a first pitch.

But I saw you, John. You did well. Proud of you on several levels. Thank you for representing our country. Thank you for knowing how to throw a baseball.

This week in baseball spoonerisms

If I can be an 11th-grader giving a presentation in front of the class for a moment, according to Wikipedia, “a spoonerism is an error in speech in which corresponding consonants, vowels, or morphemes are switched between two words in a phrase.” So instead of “Joe Maddon,” for example, you would say, “Moe Jaddon” and laugh for some reason.

On baseball Twitter, they are very popular and obnoxious but also popular. Every week, I would like to share a baseball spoonerism with you.

But if I’m going to start doing this, I need to start with a bang. I can’t just give you a B-minus spoonerism that I’ve been sitting on for a couple months. I need something big.

Allow me to present ...

I think the important thing to remember is that a cat pooper isn’t a cat that poops. You wouldn’t need to single out a cat for pooping by calling it a cat pooper. They all do it. It’s their thing, man.

A cat pooper has to be, by definition, someone who consumes cats and ... well, you know.

Anyway, the important part to remember is that this section has started out incredibly stupid, and I promise you that every week is only downhill from here.

Internet Christmas for Baseball Nerds

Used to be that I would spend a lot of time digging through the bowels of the internet looking for stuff to put on on Baseball Nation under the heading of “Internet Christmas for Baseball Nerds.” It was just baseball esoterica from throughout the history of the sport, no big deal. Like this book from Johnny Evers from 100 years ago, in which he basically invented modern defensive statistics.

Anyway, this installment comes to you by way of the Library of Congress, which decided to publish a treasure trove of Branch Rickey papers. If you’re a true nerd, you’ll enjoy idly leafing through them, like me. But if you want a hot sample, I’m partial to this one:

Man.

If there’s a happy ending to this story, it’s that Joe Adcock had a 133 OPS+ over the next three seasons, even as he was older and injury-plagued.

Still, that scouting report haunts me. One day, someone will write “not desirable as a gift” about me, and they’ll be absolutely right. I’ll have earned it.

Baseball picture of the week

Stacy Revere/Getty Images

I’m not sure what happened to make Travis Shaw accost veteran umpire Biff Tannen with such venom that someone in an Old Navy hoodie had to come get him, but that’s okay. I don’t want to know. I’m satisfied with the image of an umpire living his best life in the face of a baseball player who is very, very upset for whatever reason.

BRIAN O’NORA: That’s right. Fleetwood Mac’s best album is Tusk.

TRAVIS SHAW: oy, mate, what’d you say?

I don’t think Travis Shaw is from Sunderland, but we can’t rule it out. Anyway, I’m in love with this baseball picture. Look at the disdain on O’Nora’s face! It’s absolutely withering. He does not care what Shaw has to say, and that is probably the best default position for an umpire to take.

Baseball picture of the week (runner-up)

Photo by Norm Hall/Getty Images

See, it’s not just that Yoshihisa Hirano is sharing his baseball butt with the world. It’s the Getty-supplied caption that accompanies the picture:

PHOENIX, AZ - APRIL 03: Yoshihisa Hirano #66 of the Arizona Diamondbacks delivers an eighth inning pitch against the Los Angeles Dodgers at Chase Field

[lowers sunglasses until they slide off the tip of my nose]

Man oh man, I gotta see this guy pitch.

Tim Tebow is the Shohei Ohtani of baseball players who can run a power-read option instead of pitch

First at-bat in Double-A where he probably doesn’t belong and it’s a dinger. You might be impressed by Tebow’s incredibly respectful run around the bases. For my money, though, I can’t get enough of the pitcher checking a nonexistent runner at second base twice before he throws the pitch.

Minor league baseball: where everyone is still trying to figure this crap out. Put it on a t-shirt, and send me three of them, please.

Man, this is a weird one to end on. We’re not really going to spend all season following Tim Tebow in Double-A, are we?

No. Because at some point, we’ll have to follow him in the majors.

Until next week!