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All-Time Top Five

The All-Time Top Five Baseball Movies

Diamonds in the rough.

With so much pop culture in the world, it’s hard to know what’s best. Fortunately, Media Magpies has you covered, as one of our writers will occasionally share what they have determined to be The All-Time Top Five. 

It’s baseball season! And while other sports have been the subject of fine films, something about baseball has captured the attention of moviemakers for decades. The metaphorical richness of the game? The wealth of real-life history to draw from? The relative lack of athletic ability for participants making it easy for a variety of actors to play guys who spend half of each game sitting down? Whatever the reason, there are a lot of baseball movies out there — when you are looking for one to watch during a rain delay, just refer to this lineup of The All-Time Top Five Baseball Movies (but feel free to suggest your own in the comments):

The Bingo Long Traveling All-Stars & Motor Kings — Billy Dee Williams’ Legally-Not Satchel Paige forms a barnstorming team to get out from under an exploitative Negro League owner, and shenanigans ensue. Filmed in the 1970s, with the raunch of that decade’s comedies, but set in the 1930s, Bingo Long is fairly straightforward about the racism that the players face from white society and the exploitation that they face from the League itself; the skilled but clowning baseball they play is a way of navigating this unsafe ground. The best baseball movie with James Earl Jones, playing Legally-Not Josh Gibson, Bingo Long envisions what integration will bring, while recognizing the unfairness for those who never got that chance, and how a subculture within a sport will fade.

Night Game — Detective Roy Scheider is on the hunt for a hook-handed wacko who slices sex workers after a specific pitcher wins games, but it is unclear whether these murders are reflected in the pitcher’s stat line. What is clear is that the pitcher plays for the extremely-real Houston Astros, who along with Major League Baseball itself apparently had zero issues with their branding (not to mention the Astrodome) being used in this way in 1989. While most actual players are not present, radio broadcasts provide opportunities to Remember the Dudes of Pirates-era Barry Bonds and Bobby Bonilla, as well as Astros hero Ken Caminiti. The killer, it turns out, lost his pitching hand and his mind after being sent down to the minors because of the success of his hurling nemesis. That Night Game realizes that baseball is obsessive weirdos engaged in ritualized and stylized boredom punctuated by brief moments of activity – the same as a slasher flick – is more insightful than any sabermetrics. 

Fastball — Science gets its say in this documentary about the titular pitch, where physicists clearly demonstrate that a fastball, despite all appearances, cannot rise. Then Henry Aaron provides the counterpoint of “yes, it does,” and well, who are you going to believe? Science gets a stronger showing with a fun attempt to measure and compare fastballs across generations using old footage and record-keeping to estimate the heaters of Walter Johnson and Bob Feller vs. Nolan Ryan, but it’s the clips of hitters and pitcher talking that make this such an entertaining watch (unfortunately, alleged wife-beater Aroldis Chapman is included in the clips as the current fastest pitcher on record, and Kevin Costner’s narration throughout is sappy drivel). The highlight is Bob Gibson, one of the best ever to pitch, clearly and with zero bullshit describing his techniques in throwing and intimidation. When his teammate goofs about the lack of run support Gibson got because the players knew that he could shut the other team down, the same look that terrified batters of the 1960s comes into Gibson’s eyes – this is not a game or a gag; this is a man being the best at his work, and fuck you for thinking it is a joke.

Rhubarb — A cat becomes the owner of the Legally-Not Brooklyn Dodgers, and shenanigans ensue. Because baseball can also be pretty silly, and beyond the wackiness of Rhubarb himself being the team’s owner (the subject of numerous courtroom scenes, anticipating the increasing litigious bent of the sport’s ruling class), there is a lot of fun to be had with the superstitious players first rejecting Rhubarb, and then embracing him when the wins start piling up. And wins do make their own luck, as the fans flock to support the team and the Legally-Not Dodgers make it to the World Series, leading to a surprisingly blasé depiction of mob-run gambling as a fact of life (clearly not involving players and just something people do at the grocery store, as opposed to being enticed via their phones) and, yes, catnapping schemes. It’s all part of the game, and baseball can contain multitudes.

Eephus — The outlook isn’t brilliant for the two teams — one of which is not even at the full complement of nine at the start of the game — of guys gathering on a small field in Central Massachusetts sometime in the 1990s. The diamond will be plowed under and become a middle school after this final game between has-beens, might-have-beens, never-wases, and even a few could-bes, guys who have been playing against each other for years, and nine innings from now will have nowhere to go. This premise could be inspirational and instead it is miraculous, because it is baseball. Occasionally it is exquisitely boring, as co-writer/director Carson Lund hangs out in the dugout with the guys, not even paying attention to what’s happening on the field. One of the few folks in the stands is keeping score, holding it down for all of us sinners who’d rather watch the furious left-fielder call some hesher-hecklers “weasel dicks.” And yet, there is action, as Lund perfectly replicates that feeling of looking up at the game, and finding out, hey, the bases are loaded; when did that happen? There are moments of Lynchian weirdness and offhand awe – the players forgo an umpire and deny the encroaching darkness to keep the game going, bringing their cars on the field to use the headlights to illuminate the diamond and create a spotlighted space of possibility: Close Encounters Of The Third Base. But the final at-bat will always come, and it’s even sadder than mighty Casey striking out. Baseball is designed to break your heart, Bart Giamatti said. At least, unlike watching from the stands, you can see a movie again.

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