A League of Their Own (1992)

"We are the members of the All-American League,
We come from cities near and far.
We've got Canadians, Irish ones and Swedes,
We're all for one, we're one for all, we're all American."

First off, it's hardly relevant, but the fact that Madonna gets top billing in this film just irks me. Hers is a major character, yes, but not a lead. In a perfect world, Lori Petty's card would have occupied Madge's place on the cover. At the time, however, Petty was a relative unknown, a Hollywood greenhorn who was less a "Who's Who" and more of a "Who?" Madonna, on the other hand, was established pop royalty, a polarizing figure wreathed in scandal and intrigue with enough (figurative) badges to put an Eagle Scout to shame. She was the former wife of Hollywood Heavyweight Sean Penn and had made her own cinematic splash in the title role of 1985 cult hit Desperately Seeking Susan. She was an unapologetic sexpot during a time when the embers of the women's lib movement were still lukewarm and feminism was soaring toward its third wave. Perhaps most controversially, at the time of the film's release, she was 3 months shy of publishing the simply and aptly-named Sex, her explosive anthology of stories exploring mankind's greatest physical pleasure. Love her or hate her, Madonna was a household name, and she knew how to draw a crowd, which is, at the end of the day, a movie studio's ultimate goal. Not entirely accurate to the story, but it makes for a lot of ticket stubs. That kind of star power is not without a price, however. More on that later.

The story, which you probably know, is loosely based on the history of the All-American Girls' Professional Baseball League, which was born in 1943 as World War II was gaining steam, which necessitated the majority of major league baseball's finest to trade their pinstripes for fatigues, leaving those at home wanting for entertainment at an uncertain time when their spirits needed to be lifted (sound familiar?). 

The scene opens on Dottie Hinson, a woman in her seventies, packing an old-fashioned suitcase for a journey. In it she places the usual things - blouses, pants, and... a baseball glove?

Her adult daughter comes in and urges her to finish if she doesn't want to miss her flight. The woman expresses misgivings about going, stating that baseball was just "something I did." With some prodding, Dottie grudgingly departs for Cooperstown, New York, home of the National Baseball Hall of Fame, which is about to open an exhibit dedicated to the women of professional baseball. She arrives at the famed Doubleday Field and looks on longingly at her fellow AAGPBL alumnae, engaged in impromptu scrimmages, and remembers.

Cut to 1943, Willamette, Oregon, where Dottie and her younger sister Kit work on their parents' dairy farm and spend their free time on a local softball league. Despite Dottie's advice, Kit swings and misses at the high pitches and holds on a centered throw, which earns her an out. Dottie steps up to the plate and gets a hit, winning the game. The sisters' affectionate rivalry soon becomes evident.

"You ever hear Dad introduce us to people? 'This is our daughter Dottie, and this is our other daughter, Dottie's sister.' Should've just had you and bought a dog!"

The sisters are approached by talent scout Ernie Capadino (Jon Lovitz at his best), who watched the game and wants Dottie to travel to Chicago to try out for the newly formed girls' professional baseball league. Kit is eager to go, but Dottie isn't interested. Ernie only agrees to let Kit tag along if Dottie comes as well. Seeing Kit's first real chance to shine, Dottie reluctantly agrees.

Upon their arrival in the Windy City, Dottie and Kit meet a host of colorful characters, to include the sultry Mae (Madonna), street-smart Doris (Rosie O'Donnell), shy, timid Marla Hooch (Megan Cavanaugh), and good-hearted if a bit simple-minded Evelyn (Bitty Schram), among others. The girls pass their tryouts and are assigned to the Rockford Peaches. They soon meet their coach, a washed-up former major league wunderkind named Jimmy Dugan, who was forced to retire before his time due to his drinking problem and subsequently recruited by team owner and candy magnate Walter Harvey, who is loosely based on real-life chewing gum tycoon and Cubs owner Philip K. Wrigley (as in Wrigley Field). Enter Hanx.

"You're a young man, Jimmy; you still could be playing, if you just would've laid off the booze."

"Well, it's not exactly like that... I hurt my knee."

"You fell out of a hotel. That's how you hurt it."

"Well, there was a fire."

"Which you started, which I had to pay for."

"Well, now, I was going to send you a thank-you card, Mr. Harvey, but I wasn't allowed anything sharp to write with."

Jimmy Dugan is a bit of a departure from the upright, (semi-)responsible characters Tom Hanks has portrayed to this point. Dugan is selfish, crude, and irresponsible. He accepts his role as the Peaches' manager bitterly and reluctantly, knowing he has very few options after blundering his chances at a professional baseball career. He shows up on opening day (predictably) drunk and useless to the team. There are very few spectators around to notice, however, and the ones who are present spend most of their time jeering and mocking the idea of "girls" who play baseball. Jimmy remains largely indifferent until his authority is challenged by Dottie, who is admired and respected by the rest of the team. When he spots Dottie giving a signal to Marla to bunt, he vehemently disagrees, and steps up to give his own signal to swing away.

"Hey! Who's the goddamn manager here? I am!"
"Then act like it, you big lush!"

Marla ultimately takes Jimmy's sign and scores a run. This perceived challenge to his authority and vindication that he indeed did make the right call seems to be the spark that reignites Jimmy's fire for the game, albeit in a curmudgeonly, sometimes explosive way, which winds up giving the film its most iconic line, one that AFI ranked #54 of the top 100 movie quotes of all time.

"Are you crying? There's no crying! There's no crying in baseball!"

From there, the Peaches start to hit their stride. Unfortunately, the fans aren't sold. A skeptical Walter Harvey thinks it isn't working, and since things look optimistic on the battlefield, he's confident that the men will return home soon and there won't be any further need for women's baseball. His right-hand man, Ira Lowenstein, fervently protests this move.

"This is what it's going to be like in the factories, too, I suppose, isn't it? 'The men are back, Rosie, turn in your rivets.' We told them it was their patriotic duty to get out of the kitchen and go to work; and now, when the men come back, we'll send them back to the kitchen."

Resolved to keep the league going, whatever Harvey's misgivings, Ira encourages the players to entice fans with theatrics to drum up interest, and it works. At the same time, Dottie and Jimmy's heated rivalry cools to a grudging respect and a tentative friendship. Still, Kit's jealousy and frustration with Dottie simmers. The boiling point comes nearing the end of a game that would put the Peaches in the playoffs. When Kit's fatigue renders her pitching somewhat lackluster. Jimmy ponders taking Kit out of the game, and having come to value Dottie's insight, he asks her thoughts. Dottie tells Jimmy Kit's got nothing left. After the game, an emotional Kit accuses Dottie of always holding her back and storms off.

** I need to note something very important right here. There was a scene that was deleted from the movie because it involved a subplot that was eventually scrapped. It must have happened well into post-production, because it's clear the shot was fully edited (it's fairly obvious when a scene has been cut early on - it's rough, grainy, and has poor sound quality). Rather than go off on a tangent, I'm going to set it aside for now and go into detail later. **

This confrontation with Kit makes Dottie's mind up to quit the league and return home to Oregon. Later that evening, Ira finds Dottie in the locker room, at which point she informs him that she's leaving. Horrified at the thought of losing the team's star player, Ira begs Dottie to stay. Dottie suggests that he trade her to another team and gives him the ultimatum to figure it out by the following day. That night, at the rooming house, an enraged Kit informs Dottie that she has been traded to another team, the Racine Belles. 

“Hey, Kit? Blow it out your rear end. I’m so sick of being blamed for everything that’s bothering you. I got you into this league, goddamit! I didn’t even want to be here!”

“Then why are you still here?”

Despite Kit's initial reluctance, she soon finds herself thriving with the Belles, coming into her own with newfound confidence now that she's no longer standing in her sister's shadow. Meanwhile, the Peaches also persevere, and the two teams find themselves poised to become the final contenders in the World Series. 

This is when tragedy strikes. As the team is about to take the field in their final playoff game, a telegram arrives informing Peaches left-fielder Betty "Spaghetti" Horne that her husband has been killed in action overseas. The loss hits a little too close to home for Dottie, whose husband Bob is also overseas, and she finds herself weeping uncontrollably that night in her room at the thought of losing him. Fortunately for Dottie, her luck is about to change.

"Can we just hold each other for the rest of our lives?"
"That's my plan."

A slightly wounded, but otherwise unscathed Bob returns, and Dottie decides there's nothing she wants more than to return to domestic bliss with the husband she'd never thought she'd see again. The Peaches win their final playoff game to clinch their spot in the series. Afterward, as the rest of the team is boarding the bus to get back on the road, Dottie loads her belongings into the car to drive back home with Bob. Jimmy approaches her in disbelief, unable to comprehend that she's truly going to up and walk away.

"I gave away five years at the end my career, drinking. Five years. And now there isn't anything I wouldn't give to get back any one day of it."

"Well, we're different."

"This is chickenshit, Dottie. If you want to go back to Oregon and make a hundred babies, great, I'm in no position to tell anyone how to live. But sneaking out like this, quitting, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Baseball is what gets inside you. It's what lights you up, you can't deny that."

"It just got too hard."

"It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great."

So Bob and Dottie drive off to Oregon, and the Peaches head to the World Series to face off against the Racine Belles. Each team makes a great showing. It all comes down to the final match-up, when Jimmy is giving a pre-game pep talk to the team's replacement catcher. To his surprise, the catcher stands up, pulls off her mask, and he finds himself looking at Dottie Hinson. She explains that not long into the drive, she and Bob turned around and came back. Jimmy makes a great show of reluctantly allowing her to play, while barely containing his giddiness. 

"You're gonna loo-oose, you're gonna loo-oose! Yooo-oou stink!"
"We're gonna win. We're gonna WIN!"

While the traditional Major League World Series consists of a best of 7 games, in this instance, there is only one. Both teams make an impressive showing, but in true cinematic fashion, the climax occcurs in the final inning. At the top, Kit faces off against Dottie, pitching and hitting respectively. Dottie scores a double, while a proud Bob beams from the stands: "That's my wife!" Ellen Sue hits a pop fly to end the top. An emotional Kit, under pressure she's never felt before, struggles to hold it together. Dottie crouches behind home plate and spots her sister in turmoil. Racine logs two outs, and Kit steps up to the plate. Dottie calls time and approaches Ellen Sue, who is pitching, and encourages her to throw high, knowing Kit's weakness. Ellen Sue complies, and Kit swings and misses once, twice. On the third pitch, Kit makes contact and sprints like a thoroughbred bound for the glue factory. Dottie catches the ball at home, and a determined Kit hits her like a freight train. The ball bounces out of Dottie's hand, and in an instant, Kit Keller becomes a legend. The Racine Belles win the first ever AAGPBL championship and rush the field to hoist Kit onto their shoulders to a thunderous roar of applause. And while her teammates are heartbroken, Dottie Hinson stands beside a slightly deflated Jimmy, looks across the field at her kid sister, finally getting her moment in the sun, and she smiles.

Afterward, Dottie approaches Kit signing autographs for her young fans. Dottie offers Kit a ride home to Oregon, which Kit declines, saying that she likes it in Racine and that she and some of her teammates want to settle in the area and get jobs. Dottie surprises Kit with her revelation that she won't be back next season, choosing instead to go home with Bob and start a family, despite Kit's insistence that Dottie would miss the game too much. The sisters share an emotional moment, realizing they don't know when they'll see each other again.

"Thank you for getting me into the League, Dottie."

"You got yourself into the League. I got you on the train."

Dottie heads outside to meet Bob, where Jimmy informs her that Walter Harvey has offered him a job managing a AAA (men's) team in Wichita, but that Jimmy turned him down to continue managing the Peaches. Dottie watches both teams boarding their respective buses, and there the reminiscing ends.

Back in the present, an older Dottie stands on the sidelines watching her former teammates play. One by one, they see and embrace her, and together they head into the Hall of Fame. Surrounded by informational displays and photos of baseball's finest, Dottie sees a photo of Jimmy, with a caption stating that he'd died several years earlier. When it comes time for the ribbon cutting for the new exhibit, the girls insist that the scissors be given to the man who insisted on keeping the league afloat when the team owners all thought it was a lost cause, Ira Lowenstein. He humbly accepts. 

Inside, the girls are flooded with a tidal wave of nostalgia as they look over photos, life-sized cutouts and articles about themselves. Then Kit enters. She and Dottie embrace. The reunited Peaches gather for a group photo. The present-day snap fades to one of the Peaches in their glory days, and at the center of each are Dottie Hinson and Kit Keller, the heart and soul of the team. 

The credits roll to the tune of Madonna's "This Used to Be My Playground," written specifically for the film, a dedication to the members of the AAGPBL and images of the film's characters in their game days interspersed with video of its reuniting members, now into their twilight years, still doing what they do best - playing ball.

*********

I love this film. I've always loved this film. When I embarked on this project, my thought was to combine two of the things in the world I enjoy most - Tom Hanks and writing. I thought it'd be fun, interesting... something that, to my knowledge, no one had ever done before. I was able to view each film with a fresh set of analytical eyes and researching behind-the-scenes info. In doing so, I've learned and noticed things I hadn't before. I came to a deeper appreciation of each one. The movie that winds up in cinemas is just the finished product, the tip of a metaphorical iceberg. If you choose to, you can find so, so much more that changes the way you see the film you thought you knew.

I mentioned earlier about the cost of having a star of Madonna's magnitude involved. Apparently, Madonna was very difficult to work with. While Tom Hanks performed puppet shows and Rosie O'Donnell did stand-up to entertain the unpaid extras during breaks from filming, Madonna balked at the idea of singing for them. As a result, several of the other actors impersonated her and sang her songs in her stead. She was reportedly very rude to the locals in Evansville, Indiana, where filming took place, and spoke poorly of the town. She refused to sign autographs for fans and complained about coming into the shoot as a star and being relegated to the background. She wrote in a letter to a friend: "I cannot suffer any more than I have in the past month, learning how to play baseball with a bunch of girls (yuk) in Chicago (double yuk). I have a tan, I'm dirty all day, and I hardly ever wear make up. Penny Marshall, Lavern (sic), Geena Davis is a Barbie Doll, and when God decided where the beautiful men were going to live in the world, he did not choose Chicago. I have made a few friends but they are athletes, not actresses. They have nothing on the house of extravaganza. I wish I could come to N.Y." To be fair, she bonded with Rosie O'Donnell right off the bat (see what I did there) and the two maintain a close friendship to this day, and by all accounts, she worked just as hard as any other cast member. I have absolutely zero factual information on the matter one way or the other, but I'd like to think that she came in entitled and came out humbled. Regardless, I can't help but admire her intelligence, her talent, and her work ethic.

I've glazed over so many of the amazing performances here in the interest of getting to the heart of the story, and of course, Hanx's place in it, but I would be remiss if I didn't at least give them a passing mention. In addition to Madonna, there were so many actors who were either well-established at this point, or soon would be, who populated this film. Director Penny Marshall and her brother Gerry (Walter Harvey) were well-known veterans, as were Rosie O'Donnell (Doris), Geena Davis (Dottie), Bill Pullman (Bob), Jon Lovitz (Ernie), Hanx (Jimmy), and of course, Madonna (Mae). Lori Petty (Kit), Tracy Reiner (Betty, who was incidentally the daughter of Penny Marshall and Rob Reiner), Anne Ramsay (Helen), Megan Cavanaugh (Marla), and Bitty Schram (Evelyn) all went on to prolific careers, or at the very least, some iconic roles. I'd have to write a novella to really get into these actors and their contribution to the film, so I won't, but I wouldn't feel very good about myself if I didn't at least give them a solid nod.

Now it's time to talk about the elephant in the room, that deleted scene I mentioned earlier. I consider myself a rabid devotee of movies and related trivia, particularly when it pertains to films I enjoy. As a casual fan of this film, I hadn't really done much but scratch beneath the surface of its origins or production. Once I slapped on my pith helmet and started excavating, I uncovered the proverbial mosquito in amber. If you're a die-hard fan of this movie, you may want to sit down.

In an early draft of the film, there was a subplot involving a love story between Jimmy and Dottie. Penny Marshall eventually scrapped it because she didn't want to detract from the main storyline. Getting rid of the subplot itself was probably a good move, but in doing so, Marshall dropped a scene that I think would have added another dimension and a further level of depth to the movie. Please close your tray tables and return your seatbacks to their upright and locked position.

    

Okay, so the Dottie/Jimmy romance was scrapped. That was probably a good move. As much as hopeless romantics (like me, I admit) enjoy a good love story, not every movie needs one, and in some cases, it's a distraction. But this scene was pivotal. It was important. It would have explained so much more about Dottie's motivation to get away from the Peaches. It was meant to occur between Dottie and Kit's argument and Dottie giving Ira an ultimatum to trade her or she'd leave. She felt something for Jimmy. They had a connection, most likely fueled by his admiration for her dedication and leadership and her appreciation for his talent and resilience. I'd love to sit a roomful of psychoanalysts down in front of this one, but failing that, nobody can really know for sure. In the end, Dottie felt tremendous guilt at having committed an infidelity to her husband, who was overseas and whose fate was uncertain. Jimmy felt guilt that despite his general blase demeanor and his unfair treatment of the girls, he'd come to respect and admire Dottie, and he wound up hurting her. I don't believe Dottie and Jimmy were in love. I believe they were living in a very turbulent time in a high-stress situation, and they acted on impulse. An ending that involved Jimmy and Dottie riding off into the sunset would have been a mistake. A momentary indiscretion, on the other hand, would have made Dottie's anguish over the possibility of the war department telegram being for her and her guilt over her betrayal that much more poignant. It would have made her eagerness to separate herself from the league more apparent. It would have made Jimmy's humanity, his realization of how his actions affected others, more substantial. This was a fantastic film on its own merits, but with the inclusion of this scene, it could have been so much more. 

I'd be doing Hanx a disservice if I didn't discuss his role in this movie in more detail. Jimmy Dugan is, in a nutshell, a has-been who was poised for greatness but who was cut down in his prime because of his addiction. Nobody becomes an alcoholic for no reason, so I'd be curious to hear about his background - absent mother? Abusive father? No way to know, and it's irrelevant to the story itself. Whatever the case, he reluctantly accepts Walter Harvey's offer to coach the Peaches because he's out of options. He scoffs at the idea of coaching "girls," and his initial intent is to act as a figurehead, to smile for photo ops and collect a paycheck to feed his demons. Harvey himself doesn't seem to care because he sees the league as an ad campaign, a publicity stunt that might help him sell a few candy bars. 

Eventually, the girls' enthusiasm and talent awakens something in Jimmy, his love for the game, and he becomes more invested. As good a player as she is, I have to wonder if Dottie deliberately signaled to Marla to bunt knowing it was the wrong call and would piss Jimmy off enough to get him to his feet. Regardless, it worked. It's a slow burn, but over time he gains a grudging respect for his players, their talent and strength in an uncertain time (again, familiar), and he ultimately becomes fond and protective of them. At the end of the season, he chooses to stay on as their manager rather than accept a more prestigious position as the coach of a semi-professional men's team. 

I always hated the fact that Jimmy Dugan died before he got to see his girls inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. I think the primary reason for this was that Hanks' presence (or that of an older counterpart to represent him) would have somehow diminished the achievements of the women he mentored. He was never meant to be the star of this story. I've always wondered what became of Jimmy Dugan. I imagine he put down the bottle (because he likely wouldn't have lived as long as he did if he hadn't) and found a new "addiction" of sorts. I imagine he fell in love with baseball all over again and threw himself into coaching the Peaches until the AAGPBL's final season in 1954. I can't see him as the suburban picket fence wife-and-2.3-kids type, so I picture him spending his retirement years in a worn-out recliner, watching major league games and reminiscing, perhaps sitting on his porch and giving the neighborhood kids pointers on their swing. 

"Baseball gets inside you." 

There's a lot of truth in that, at least where I come from. I don't have to tell you folks how important baseball is in Boston. I will never forget what it was like living in Massachusetts on October 28, 2004, the morning after the Red Sox won their first World Series title in 86 years. People were excited. They were happy. Pop-up tents sprang up overnight selling souvenirs and memorabilia. Eventually the initial excitement wore off, but for those first few days, there was a lovely kind of euphoria in the air that only comes along very rarely, and everything was right in the world. I can't say what it is, but for so many of us, baseball ignites a fire in the human spirit. It did for Dottie, for Kit, and arguably, for Jimmy most of all.