Call me a fair-weather fan, but after watching the Bruins beat the Cal Bears on Saturday afternoon, I am a reborn sports fan.
As I sit here with a sore throat, a backache and a horrible farmer’s tan, Saturday’s amazing game has me thinking about the more fictional, but equally inspirational, sports of film. Genres like westerns or musicals rapidly cycle in and out of the moviegoing public’s favor, but people always love sports, even if it seems sports movies sink more often than they swim these days at the box office ““ if they get made at all.
And this is puzzling because it shouldn’t be that hard to make a good sports movie. My formula is not patented, but in my time I think I’ve seen enough good and very, very bad sports movies to figure out the main ingredient missing from the less successful sports film of the day: the love of the game.
While a good biopic on storied greats like Babe Ruth may seem like a compelling idea, they rarely make the grade for good sports films because they focus too much on the gloomy aftermath of athletic success, addictions and personal relationships problems, rather than on the story of will and passion that got them on the court, in the rink, or on the field in the first place.
1992’s “The Babe,” though, mixes these two different focuses fairly well; The film begins with an intriguing story of the Great Bambino’s orphanage days but ends on an all-too-honest note of his drinking problems and infamous ego.
Obviously, not all sports films have to be sob fests like “Rudy” or “Brian’s Song,” but the emotion still has to be there one way or another.
While the film “A League of Their Own” is completely hilarious, from Tom Hanks’ jerk manager Jimmy Dugan to Madonna’s slutty slugger Mae Mordabito, the film has stood the test of time because not only does it tell of a great history, but it’s about two sisters who love each other and come to discover that they love the game just as much. You can’t beat the emotional roller coaster of that final World Series game with Kit ramming into Dottie with all her might at home plate for the win.
In the real world, we are bombarded every day with grim news of steroid usage, hefty contract negotiations and flaring tempers in the professional athletic world, so when people shell out $10 for a couple hours of good old escapism, they don’t want to see the same stuff on the big screen.
At the end of the day, we just want someone or some team to root for. And whether it be small-time Philly boxer Rocky Balboa or Notre Dame football player Daniel “Rudy” Ruettiger, people especially love rooting for the underdog.
It’s stories such as “Rudy” that pair a great story of personal determination and overcoming a storied program (back when the fighting Irish were still a force to be reckoned with) that are what sports movies are all about.
Being a die-hard sports fan can be a very emotional thing ““ just ask a Chicago Cubs fan ““ and we want movies to match that emotion.
It’s because of this need for passion and purity that even kids’ sports movies seem to connect so well across the board with both boys and girls and baseball enthusiasts and fair-weather fans alike.
The minute most people hear the phrase “You’re killing me, Smalls,” visions of big dogs, James Earl Jones and chewing tobacco vomit immediately flash before their eyes.
While the main climax of getting the ball back from the giant dog next to their playing field is completely hokey, watching and reveling in the camaraderie between the nine boys and their daily summer routine of simply playing baseball all day, every day for the hell of it, is what makes “The Sandlot” a classic to the bulk of individuals our age and younger.
While I could go on forever about great sports films to note such as “Field of Dreams,” “Remember the Titans” and “Hoosiers,” these movies all basically come to the same conclusion, which is why they are such highly applauded and timeless films.
It’s all for the love of the game.
Just remember to stay away from that horrible Kevin Costner baseball movie of the same name.
If you don’t want to be “a can’t-hack-it pantywaist who wears their mama’s bra,” e-mail Stanhope at kstanhope@media.ucla.edu.