The difficulty with fiction is the writer often can't get away with the sort of outrageous coincidences that occur in real life all the time. Improbable survivals seem cliched, deus ex machina endings totally improbable. "The world's foremost neurosurgeon just happened to be travelling on the same plane - and they're second cousins!" God, it seems, can get away with plotlines no mortal writer worth his salt would touch.In sports movies, however, it's easier to get away with seemingly cliched plots, perhaps because the structure of sports lends itself to fictionalization. There's already a drama to sport before you even begin to add layers of personal interest. Take yesterday's Super Bowl, won by the New Orleans Saints just five years after that city's devastation at the hands of Hurricane Katrina. The Saints' phoenix-like rise is summed up very well by Jason Fry on the Faith and Fear in Flushing blog in a post here. The fairytale reversal might have been dismissed as far-fetched had it not been true. Similar inspirational stories of overcoming the odds are abundant in all sports, which is one of the appeals to fans.
Baseball seems to lend itself to cliche more than other sports. Even with two outs in the ninth inning, a team can come back to win. More often than not they don't, but that's what makes the times they do all the more memorable. Walk-off home runs can and do happen, even in the most crucial of games.
Two outs in the bottom of the ninth is exactly the situation that Roy Hobbs finds himself in in The Natural, the 1984 film directed by Barry Levinson. Hobbs, played by Robert Redford, has struck out twice already, is battling an old stomach injury, and his team the New York Knights, are down by two with runners on first and second in a crucial tiebreaker game against the Pittsburgh Pirates to win the pennant.
After breaking his lucky bat, Wonderboy, Hobbs crushes a mighty homer which smashes the stadium lights, showering the field in sparks as Hobbs rounds the bases in slow motion. It's a scene which could be horrendously tacky, but the whole film is infused with such a magic that it seems a fitting conclusion. Set mostly in 1939, with opening scenes in the early twenties, there's a reverent nostalgia throughout the film, both to viewers looking back at baseball's Golden Age and to Hobbs himself looking back at what might have been had events turned out differently:
Hobbs: I coulda been better. I coulda broke every record in the book...And then when I walked down the street people would've looked and they would've said there goes Roy Hobbs, the best there ever was in this game.
The film seamlessly melds a number of themes, from the dangers of the pursuit of fame to celebration of individual talent. It only rarely feels forced, even in moments of heavy-handed allegory such as the moment that Hobbs' father dies and a lightning bolt splits the tree in his yard to yield the stump Hobbs uses to carve Wonderboy.
The flaw with the film is its apparent desire to remove anything that might get in the way of the magic of baseball and the saviour Roy Hobbs. As the film critic Roger Ebert put it in a damning review:
Why did a perfectly good story, filled with interesting people, have to be made into one man's ascension to the godlike, especially when no effort is made to give that ascension meaning?
In the book upon which the film is based, Hobbs doesn't hit the game-winning home run. Instead, he strikes out once again and is confronted, Shoeless Joe Jackson style, by a distraught young fan who asks 'Say it ain't so, Roy.' He breaks down and weeps and here the novel ends. It's a classic morality tale about the loss of innocence, sharply contrasting with the film's triumphalism. Even if the filmmakers were determined to change the ending, I felt that hitting the homer should have killed Hobbs, since that's what his injury seemed to be building to.
All in all, the film's simplicity works. It's about the glory and magic of baseball, not the bitter realities that fame, money and love can lead to. In an age where baseball fans have had their innocence crushed by the 'Steriods Era', such return to simpler times is a welcome change. Finally giving Hobbs the chance to prove himself, the manager, Pop Fisher says to him:
Come on Hobbs, knock the cover off the ball!
So naturally, Hobbs does.









