11 March 2012

Joy and verve and poetry

Bull Durham

(1988)
After a meltdown by my college basketball team, I needed my cinematic spring training fix a little earlier than usual. But I guess I'm still sour, because I feel compelled to point out two things that always bother me in a damn near perfect film:
  • I don't mind the visual hyperbole of Nuke's wild pitching--hitting the bull, nearly hitting the play-by-play announcer--but stats are sacred in baseball, and when Coach Larry announces that in his first start, the rookie has walked 18 and struck out 18, it sticks in my craw. Even a quarter of a century ago, no young phenom would be allowed to throw the 126 pitches in his debut that those 2 stats demand, even if those were the only batters he faced, and even if every walk came without a strike and every strikeout came without a ball--in reality, to compile those totals, he'd have had to be well over 200 pitches, which is just silly, and an unnecessary false note.
  • And when Annie comes to Crash's boarding house, he's drinking Southern Comfort; sorry, I can't imagine him choosing to drink that sweet shit.
Not perfect, but still a Hall of Famer.

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