Clare texted Michele
last night: Baseball’s over, and now I’m watching baseball movies. I blame Dad.
Well, excuse me.
We probably did watch a
lot of them, starting with “A League of Their Own,” but I’m not the one who
goes around saying, “There’s no crying in baseball!” That would be a former resident of our
house. I’m also not the one watching “Moneyball,”
as Clare was last night. I advised that
she take notes, just in case her career takes another route.
Lately, “The Natural”
has been in heavy rotation, and I still love watching the last half-hour. Go, Roy, go.
Be a hero (which he isn’t in Bernard Malamud’s book of the same
name). The funny thing is, I don’t
particularly like Robert Redford or Glenn Close, but they’re perfect in the
roles of Roy and Iris. I also love the
scenes shot in Buffalo’s old War Memorial Stadium. Now, that was a sports’ venue.
The same goes for the
former Bush Stadium in Indianapolis, which doubled for Comiskey Park and
Redland Field in “Eight Men Out.” That
might be my favorite movie, if not for the nails-on-chalkboard performance by
Studs Terkel and recent scholarship that shows Charles Comiskey wasn’t quite
the skinflint legend and film both have him to be. Oh, well.
Those Black Sox sure could play.
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