Misunderstood Masterpieces: Summer Catch

Posted by Will Helm on 05.09.2006

…or, We Finally Discover Who Pitches and Who Catches in This Relationship

Here we are, deep in the heart of baseball season and it would be apropos to drag out a film about the (now probably former) National Pastime. Throughout the years, there have been many, many great films about the sport, both dramas and comedies. From Lou Gehrig's impassioned and tragic "Luckiest Man on the Face of the Earth" speech in Pride of the Yankees to the drudgery of minor-league ball and Susan Sarandon in Bull Durham. From Roy Hobbs climactic – and destructive – home-run swing in The Natural to the misadventures of the hapless Cleveland Indians in Major League. From the possible injustice of the Chicago "Black Sox" in Eight Men Out to . . . to . . . to the romantic comedy stylings of today's film, 2001's Summer Catch?

And here I thought that Bull Durham cornered the market on baseball-themed romantic comedies. I guess I was wrong.

Of course, as this comes after last week's Wing Commander, it stands to reason that Summer Catch – falling in the creamy center of the Prinze, Jr.-Lillard trilogy – that Freddie Prinze, Jr., and Matthew Lillard indeed star in Summer Catch . . . and star they do! While last week we found our two heroes to be, individually, whiney and a pig-faced spaz, this week they ground themselves firmly in some sort of reality – since everyone knows that romantic comedies exist outside the bounds of the real world – so their shtick may not fly in the high-pressure world of competitive sports . . . or will it? I think it's about time for me to write . . . let's find out!

While flying over the ocean, Freddie Prinze, Jr., has himself a little expository monologue. Oh no . . . it is sci-fi again! But this time it's Massachusetts science-fiction as Freddie explains that, apparently, Cape Cod is the home of amateur baseball in the United States. I'm a little skeptical regarding Freddie's dubious claim but I'll take his word for it; after all, he is Ryan Dunne, groundskeeper of the local Chatham, Massachusetts, ballpark. Meanwhile, Matthew Lillard, in the voice of his character, Billy Brubaker, reveals – through expository monologue – that he's an aspiring baseball player . . . who's conveniently headed to Chatham to play. Already there, however, is Fez himself, Wilmer Valderrama, and he's quite afraid of his randy, mysterious housemother. Knowing what we now know about the man behind Fez, I'd say that his fear is hilariously ironic. When you claim to have Lindsay Lohan and Mandy Moore under your belt – figuratively and literally – some random housemother is certainly small potatoes.

After two main characters are introduced – Fez really ends up being a minor character . . . I hope I didn't disappoint anyone by revealing that – Ryan's monologue shifts to name-dropping all the luminaries who have come through Cape Cod on their way to "the Big Show" . . . and now it's Ryan's turn. Or so he says. In order to facilitate his self-proclaimed "turn," Ryan plans on sleeping at the ballpark the night before training starts. The one problem with this plan is that he ends up drinking beer from between local skank Dede Mulligan's (Brittany Murphy) legs. Excuse me, but I have to declare a moment of silence for this Brittany Murphy, for this is probably her last film before she became an emaciated shadow of her former self. I don't know why these actresses decide that they'd look good with thirty less pounds or so but they lose it and lose everything that makes them womanly. Unless they're a man to begin with – *cough* Mischa Barton *cough*. And remember my point about curvaceousness . . . it'll become important later. Anyway, Ryan, since he takes baseball seriously, doesn't want to party, so his slightly retarded friends are dejected. They drive off without him but Dede stays behind to calm Ryan's nerves . . . so to speak.

Some time later, for no particular reason, Ryan and Dede trade underwear and then Ryan runs around in a thong and high-fives his friends . . . who seem to have returned for reasons unexplained. Either that, or they stayed to watch Ryan and Dede get it on . . . which is really, really creepy. The next morning, the ballpark's sprinklers helpfully awaken Dede, but Ryan stays asleep. Meanwhile, at a team meeting, coach Brian Dennehy – who I can no longer take seriously after hearing Patton Oswalt's "Robert Evans ESPN Promo" routine – gives the boys a pep talk. Elsewhere at the field, Ryan wakes up late for the meeting and he runs into the locker room still clad in a thong, much to the amusement of his teammates. After the meeting, Ryan – picking up where Lt. Chris Blair left off – whines to Coach Dennehy but, unlike Lt. Cmdr. Love Interest, Dennehy is having none of it and he wants Ryan on the straight and narrow.

Later, Ryan mows a lawn distractedly because he's too busy watching a wet, bikini-clad Jessica Biel walking around her pool in slow motion. She's mildly amused by Ryan destroying her flowers with his clumsy landscaping but, upon completion, he runs into her WASP father (Bruce Davison) who tells Ryan and his father (Fred Ward) – who owns the lawn-care business – not to park in the driveway anymore. Ladies and gentlemen, your villain for the picture. After leaving, Ryan whines to his father about Dennehy's little lecture earlier, since he thinks his father tipped off the coach regarding Ryan's tendency to be a head case.

That night, Ryan goes to the local bar where his older brother (Jason Gedrick) is the bartender. Wow . . . I was always hoping for a movie bringing together Fred Ward and Jason Gedrick! Remo Williams and Iron Eagle unite! Ryan, since he's now one of the team, eschews his mildly retarded friends for his teammates and, once at their table, he meets the team jerk (Corey Pearson) – who's also the team's ace pitcher and a prospect for the Dodgers. Ryan and the jerk nearly come to fisticuffs but helpful catcher Bill smoothes over the situation before any pugilism can break out. Perhaps to give Ryan something else to worry about, Bill proposes that Ryan be his wingman for the evening since Bill's date brought along a friend . . . and it's WASP HOT CHICK Tenley Parrish (Biel)! While Ryan tries to break the ice with Tenley – I wonder if she has tiny little tea leaves . . . oh wait, that was Tetley – Dede comes over to spoil the fun and, more importantly, ask for her underwear back. Ryan, dejected that his old flame would play such an underhanded move in the presence of a classy WASP HOT CHICK leaves . . . although he also alludes to the fact that he's attracted to Tenley but he doesn't really like her because she's rich. Ah . . . just what every romantic comedy needs: economic and social class struggles.

At the next practice, there's burgeoning TENSION between rival pitchers Ryan and the jerk. Later, perhaps to soothe his annoyance and/or whininess, Ryan hangs out with Bill and extraneous hick Miles (Marc Blucas). For some reason, they all joke about Miles going home with a "fat chick" but he blames the beer goggles he had on the night before. Ryan, perhaps having his fill of stereotypical "guy" talk, goes home and he and his dad have a stilted heart-to-heart about . . . something. That evening, Ryan and Bill go to a local ice cream parlor where they meet up with the team's number one fan: a psychotic elementary schoolgirl (Zena Grey) . . . who just happens to serendipitously be Tenley's kid sister! Imagine the odds of that! It's almost as if it were scripted that way . . . then again, I suppose it was. Anyway, after signing a few autographs for their psychotic fan, Ryan heads over to chat with Tenley and he learns, through her wonderful expository conversation, that her father wants her to be an investment banker but she wants to go back to school to be an architect.

OK . . . this is the first problem with the movie: both jobs are equally WASPy. Now, if she wanted to be a showgirl or even an exotic dancer I could understand her father's consternation, but being an architect is quite equal to her social status. Although, speaking of exotic dancers, for some reason whoever put together the soundtrack to Summer Catch borrowed more than a few songs from the short-lived HBO exposé series G-String Divas. Fun factoid: the club featured in that show was nary twenty minutes from my house. No comment on whether I've actually been in there or not, though. Anyway, Tenley – because it's SO NAUGHTY to fall for a guy from the "wrong side of the tracks" – hits on Ryan a bit and then they make out a little . . . or something. Honestly, I don't remember and it's really not important because another problem with this movie is that it's terribly repetitive. Trust me.

At the first game, Ryan and Bill gossip about HOT CHICKS and then they share dirty jokes about Tenley for some reason. Meanwhile, the first pointless celebrity of the film shows up in the form of legendary broadcaster Curt Gowdy, who is to be the Chatham baseball team's announcer for that season. No, it doesn't make a lick of sense, but I guess he was available for the picture. No word on whether or not he was also available for proms or bar mitzvahs, though. Taking the hill for Chatham that day is none other than the jerk, the team's star ace. During the game, slumping Bill – in his first game, no less – exclaims his hatred for wooden bats. Sure . . . that's the reason you suck, Bill. Meanwhile, Dennehy enlists Ryan for charity duty, so he's relegated to passing the hat around the crowd; perhaps to add insult to indignity, Ryan's semi-retarded friends goof off in his presence in the guise of "comic relief." After the jerk wins the game with a stellar pitching performance, Ryan lifts his own spirits by mocking Bill's inability to hit. Hmm . . . why do the words "sour" and "grapes" come to mind?

That evening, Fez recounts the travails of having a horny housemom to his teammates at the local bar and Bill and Miles give their Latino comrade advice on how to proceed. After dispensing said advice, Miles – totally unprovoked – starts complementing his teammates' posteriors. Seriously. Meanwhile, at the pool tables, the jerk starts a barfight with Ryan's slightly imbecilic friends; Ryan, not one to see his friends or the star of his team pummeled severely, steps up to intervene but he's blocked by his brother for no apparent reason. Ryan, dejected and probably ready to whine about something, leaves and, along the way to his car, he runs into Tenley. While Ryan stews for a bit, probably trying his damnedest not to start whining to her right then and there, Tenley clumsily rambles about Ryan's baseball uniform and then they make out for a little bit more. Or for the first time. It really doesn't matter, honestly.

At the next game, Dennehy gives the jerk and his cronies a pre-game lecture about proper behavior outside of the ballpark. Damned Philistines. Meanwhile, outside, the psycho girl is dressed like a clam for no particular reason other than the fact that she's the team's de facto mascot. While Ryan takes the mound and pitches a pretty decent game, Bill still can't find his stroke. Of course, since there must be TENSION, Ryan starts to crack under pressure in the ninth inning. Wait . . . hold on a second. What pitcher throws into the ninth nowadays anyway? Most are done their work by the end of the sixth . . . the seventh at the latest. Everyone knows you need to justify the existence of your overpriced and ineffectual bullpen by sitting the starters far too early. Dennehy really isn't a good manager. Anyway, while Curt Gowdy goes over Ryan's embarrassing backstory, Ryan gives up a grand slam to the opposing team and his dad leaves the park upset with his son's terrible performance. Finally, to add to the torture, Bill strikes out to end the game anticlimactically. I guess when Ryan stated in the very beginning of the film that it's "my turn" he forgot to add "to suck" after his spiel.

Back at home, Ryan's drunken dad mocks him and then reveals that he had an interesting chat with a scout from the Phillies, who just happen to be interested in Ryan. Of course, everyone knows that Philadelphia will just love a head-case pitcher with a penchant for giving up runs at inopportune moments. Then again, isn't that their entire starting rotation? Later, Ryan, perhaps unhappy with one of the worst teams in existence performing due diligence on him, visits with Bill, who, sadly, is quitting the team. Perhaps as a rousing send-off, Ryan proposes a night of beer and chowder before Bill heads back to California. Before they can commiserate over a bowl of soup and a brew, Ryan introduces Bill to his mentally deficient friends and Dede and entrusts Bill's care to them. While Bill is left with his life in the hands of the village idiots – and Dede – Ryan joins Tenley on a random riverbank somewhere and he starts whining to her about his parents' terrible marriage and how his father and his brother just want him to be a failure like they are. Ah, how uplifting. Tenley, as the voice of reason for the moment, tells Ryan to follow his dreams and take risks – unfortunately, she forgot to tell him to stop whining – and then they make out some more. I guess the only risk he's going to take at the moment is not getting her knocked up. Meanwhile, Bill ends up on the beach with Dede and then he strips for no reason and reveals a schizophrenic alter ego to the world. No, really.

Luckily, said alter ego isn't in his pants.

The next day, while Fez apparently pimps out his housemom, Ryan's dad pesters his son about his terrible pitching and his fledgling relationship with Tenley, mainly because he expects failure in both pursuits. I guess that's his clumsy way of making sure that Ryan used a condom the night before. Meanwhile, unsurprisingly, Tenley's father discovers that she's been seeing Ryan because her psycho sister – qu'est-ce que c'est – spilled the beans at the breakfast table. Why they're eating beans for breakfast, I'll never know. Ah . . . thanks, Groucho. Of course, Tenley's WASP father has the perfect foil for Ryan: some guy who's got the hots for Tenley AND whose breeding is superb. I guess he wants his grandchildren to be thoroughbreds.

Meanwhile, after Ryan and his father's resentful chat, Bill wakes up and joins them . . . while wearing a thong. OK . . . maybe his alter ego is in his pants. Elsewhere, Miles the hick waits in bed for a curvy skank . . . and this time beer goggles aren't to blame. OK, I have to take umbrage with this film's portrayal of curvy women. Curvy women are quite lovely – I'll be the first to admit that – and preferring them over skinny girls should never be a crime or even a source of derision . . . but why, oh why, did the curvy woman in this film have to be skanky? The only thing one can take out of it is that there is the implicit inference that, since curvy women obviously can't get men through any normal means, they have to be easy in the sack. Sacrilege, says I! Especially when, at that point or not too far before, Brittany Murphy could have been included in that list of curvy women. See . . . I told you to remember my point from earlier for future reference.

Anyway, due to a great deluge, that evening's game is cancelled so Ryan and Tenley kill time by going swimming in the rain. Well, they're already wet . . . and she may be in more ways than one. Ooh, snap! After a little bit of swimming and a little bit of making out, Tenley's father wakes up and nearly catches his daughter and Ryan the Whiny Lawn Boy together! He freaks out anyway and Ryan, wisely, leaves in a hurry . . . but not before him, Tenley, and her wet T-shirt – with no bra underneath – make out a little bit more. I threw that little bit in there for the Jessica Biel lovers out there; I'm a nice guy like that.

At the next game, Bill, liberated through the awesome power of Dede's vagina, finally finds his hitting stroke . . . with a bunt. I suppose it's probably because he no longer needs to stroke other things. Through a series of helpfully truncated games and Curt Gowdy's narration, Ryan has a great season . . . ever other game. Meanwhile, interspersed with the baseball "action," Ryan and Tenley goof around while playing catch. Personally, I just think it's an excuse to put Jessica Biel in short shorts and a tank top, but I'm cagey like that. Somewhere along the line, Dennehy reveals his love for Ryan – in a manly, mentor-student way . . . no homo – and then the jerk attempts to psyche Ryan out regarding his next big start. Later, Ryan goes to his older brother for advice but his brother just confesses that he's waiting for Ryan to fail . . . which might be some sort of reverse psychology pep talk or something. Methinks the Dunne family is desperately in need of some group therapy or something.

Since Ryan now has something to whine about – again – he decides to visit Tenley. There's only one problem with that idea: Tenley is currently entertaining her dad's favorite WASP bachelor! Dum-dum-DUM! They invite him to join them and their little soiree but, once there, Ryan – feeling the pressure of being a proletariat among the bourgeoisie – freaks out and makes up some story about coming over to check the flowers for his father. Smooth, Ryan; real smooth. After a few uncomfortable moments, Ryan takes his leave and Tenley, against her father's wishes, follows; perhaps that wasn't a good idea, though, as Ryan just yells at her for leading him on . . . which she did, since she and the WASP had been seeing each other for a few years and she decided to take a break for the summer. Tenley, master diplomat that she is, then reveals that Ryan, for lack of a better term, is just a summer fling. Or at least he was supposed to be a summer fling. Or something like that.

Say it with me now, ladies and gentlemen: bitches be crazy.

At the next game, Miles the hick's curvy skank shows up to cheer him on but Bill just sits back and mocks Miles' predilection for the voluptuous. Meanwhile, Ryan and Dennehy have a stilted heart-to-heart about something – ah, there's nothing like a manly conversation – and the scouts are there to chat about Ryan's pitching skillz . . . including the guy from Scrubs (John C. McGinley)! Unfortunately for the scouts – and for Ryan's career – he fills up the bases in the sixth and, on cue, he starts to crack under the pressure yet again. Bill, wisely, confers with his battery-mate at the mound and confesses that the source of Ryan's troubles is the fact that Bill keeps flatulating in the umpire's face. More than we needed to know, Bill. Ryan, of course, ends up blowing the game anyway and Dennehy has no choice but to relegate him to the bullpen, making Ryan's dad proud. I bet he buys a big Carvel ice-cream cake that says "#1 Failure" on it for him. Or maybe just a Fudgy the Whale.

After the game, Ryan chats with his little-bus-riding friends and he slowly has a breakdown regarding his fate changing from being a major league picture to a major league landscaper. His friends, perhaps finally activating the few brain cells they have between them, yell at Ryan and his less stupid friend gives him a heartfelt pep talk. Just like his pitching performances, though, Ryan has a breakdown anyway . . . but it may be for the best. Some time later, Ryan, his dad, and Bill watch in amazement as Tenley mows the lawn for them. Of course, this is probably just an excuse to get Jessica Biel in a cutoff T-shirt but who am I to fault the filmmakers? After Tenley completes her atonement – that's a first – she invites Ryan to a family party because her father wants to make peace with Ryan. She finally sort-of apologizes – another first! No woman ever apologizes in a romantic comedy . . . ever! – and she and Ryan make out again. Aww . . . I guess everything's peachy keen.

Later that evening, Ryan goes to the party and he touchingly gives Tenley's psycho sister a pep talk, since the whole mascot thing isn't going so well. Is it just me or is this film just a series of conflicts and pep talks? Afterward, Tenley's dad beckons Ryan over for a little chat – what's the likelihood it'll be a stilted heart-to-heart? – and he tells Ryan that he wants him to dump Tenley for her own good. Ooh . . . I think I know what that is: TENSION! Perhaps as an added evil touch, Tenley's dad is willing to blackmail Ryan to do it, hanging Ryan's dad's lawn business in the balance! I think there's going to be a class war in Chatham and it will be bloody. Ryan, perhaps needing some time to whine again, freaks out and leaves and Tenley is clueless to the reason why. Wow . . . she's just such a sympathetic character. And, yes, that was sarcasm.

Back home, Ryan and his dad have yet another stilted heart-to-heart wherein Ryan's dad reveals that he actually likes Tenley – probably because she did a good job on the lawn – and then he sort-of apologizes to Ryan for being a drunken jerk . . . probably for the past five or six or twenty years. Then, for some reason, Ryan's dad starts to reminisce about his deceased wife, which can only mean one thing: suicide. Later, at the ballpark, the jerk, his crony, and their skanks accidentally blow up the souvenir stand. Meanwhile, elsewhere at the park, Ryan and Tenley have a serious discussion about her future and she somehow reveals that she thinks he's dumb. Or words to that effect, at least. Ryan, however, confesses that he likes being a pitcher because it's a power trip, which must be the equivalent of leading the proletariat of Chatham on a massacre of the bourgeoisie. It's a metaphor. Tenley, in response, busts out a great romantic comedy cliché when she tells Ryan that he must be afraid of loving; after such a cheesy line as that, Ryan wisely tells Tenley to get out of his life. You go . . . boy.

Of course, perhaps to throw a monkeywrench in Ryan's plans, he has to rescue the jerk and Tenley sticks around for the time being. The next morning, this ends up becoming an issue with Tenley's dad, as he fears class embarrassment due to the fact that Tenley and Ryan were photographed together at the scene of the fire! Ooh . . . those damned paparazzi! Tenley, even though Ryan cut her out of his life the night before, defends her summer fling and then SHE freaks out. At the ballpark, Dennehy yells at the team – again – and states that he cut the jerk and his crony, which means that Ryan is once again the team's starter! Well isn't that just a wonderfully convenient plot development? Later, Ryan's dad has a little visit with Tenley's dad; instead of shooting him in the face and starting the long-brewing class war of Chatham, Ryan's dad simply quits being Tenley's dad's groundskeeper and he gives him what-for as well. Ooh, snap!

Elsewhere, Fez finally gives in to his horny, hot housemom . . . and it's Ellen Griswold (Beverly D'Angelo)! Oh, and, apparently, she REALLY likes vegetables . . . just not necessarily for the taste. If you get what I'm saying. And I think you do. Later, the guys meet up at the bar and the joke about cucumbers and their erotic – and gastronomic – uses. Meanwhile, Ryan has another talk with his older brother and he's looking for advice. For once, instead of belittling Ryan, his older brother tells Ryan to pitch with finesse rather than power in the next game. Back in the bar proper, Miles the hick, finally disgusted with the constant mocking due to his love of curvy women, steps up and publicly confesses his love of the womanly shape; one thing's for certain, he's going to get tons of nookie for that.

Once more, even though Ryan threw her out of his life, Tenley visits Ryan, pretty much just to tell him that she's going to California to be an investment banker. Of course, she's not happy about it – mainly because her father will have won, rather than her . . . her relationship with Ryan was just a backdrop for the family power struggle – and they both break down as she leaves. At the final game of the season – which I'm sure Ryan is totally focused on since he doesn't have to think about Tenley anymore or anything . . . even though she had a knack for dropping drama-bombs on him right before big starts – Ryan readies for his last start while Curt Gowdy makes sarcastic jokes about the jerk's absence. On the mound, Ryan hears voices in his head as he starts the game; meanwhile, Tenley tells her mother to head over to the ballpark since she wants to see Ryan play, one last time.

Through eight innings, Ryan has a no-hitter going – although in mentioning it, I probably jinxed it – and then Bill hits an inside-the-park homerun to give Ryan a little breathing room. Tenley then arrives at the park in time for the ninth inning; in the stands, the guy from Scrubs calls up his bosses to tell them about Ryan and then he chats with another pointless celebrity, Hank Aaron. Well, not to say that Hank Aaron is pointless but his appearance here is. Although does that mean, in about ten years or so, Barry Bonds will be making pointless celebrity cameos? If anything, he should at least be in the next The Hulk movie . . . there's gamma radiation in those syringes! Tenley, for no particular reason other than to probably cause some TENSION, leaves for the airport instead of sticking around to watch Ryan finish the game and then Ryan starts hearing more voices – ah, he's finally REALLY cracking under pressure – and then . . . he realizes he loves Tenley! Perhaps in one of the most pointless moves ever, Ryan voluntarily leaves his no-hitter to the closer so he can chase after Tenley. He makes it to the airport in time, he and Tenley finally decide to stay together, everyone follows him to celebrate, and the guy from Scrubs offers him a contract for the Phillies. In his major league debut, Ryan gives up a homerun on the first pitch to Ken Griffey, Jr.; later, WIP's Howard Eskin held a funeral in Ryan's honor.

For what it's worth, Summer Catch would be a decent baseball movie . . . if it actually features more than about twenty minutes of baseball action in total. For once, Matthew Lillard was decent and tolerable and – I'll be damned – entertaining, but Freddie Prinze's constant whining degraded the whole film. Of course, that's nothing compared to how mind-numbingly repetitive Summer Catch is. I can pretty much sum up the film in small doses for those of you too lazy to read the entire column. Let's see . . . baseball, pep talk, love, fight, pep talk, baseball, fight, breakdown, love, baseball, pep talk, fight, fight, love, pep talk, pep talk, fight, baseball, love. Or somewhat in that order, at least. In all, Summer Catch's greatest flaw is that the supporting characters – in particular Bill, Miles, and Fez – outshine the hackneyed and relatively unlikable leads; the viewer ends up wanting more of them and less of the silly love story. Whenever stars are upstaged like that, though, you can rest assured that it is another Misunderstood Masterpiece.

Join me next week as we finish the Freddie Prince, Jr., Matthew Lillard triumvirate with a sequel. Zoinks? See you then!