SANDLOT In a sandbox, a rabbit -- front paws on a plate containing bits of a carrot -- rises from his hind legs. Long ears swing while eyes canvass the area. I crouch low hands between legs one fist punching an open palm. "C'mon, baby," I mutter. "Come to me." A soft voice sings, "Hop-py!" as a hand from behind reaches for him. The hand clasps, trapping air. The white rabbit darts toward me hopping skipping. I watch his red eyes as I crush grass in front of me. I squeeze him with two hands. He bites and struggles and escapes under my legs. I no longer play on the infield. -- Wylie Wong