I've said it before in my Pleasantville column, and I'll say it again here: Passion is a very powerful thing. When a filmmaker has a passion that plays a part in what he or she is making, you can see that passion dripping off of the finished film. Obviously the director or writer or actor has to have some passion for the film they are working on, but you can tell the difference when the subject really hits the spot.
That passion really shines through when the filmmaker has a lifelong connection to the premise. Take Billy Crystal, for example. You've seen him on television, you've seen him in movies, but another place you'll see him is Yankee Stadium. Crystal has been a Yankee fan ever since he was eight years old and his father took him and his brothers to the stadium on Memorial Day of 1956. He was introduced to not only the Yankees but Mickey Mantle. Once he saw Mickey hit one out of the park, he was hooked for life. (He has mentioned this in many different interviews, and his character in City Slickers says it was the best time of his life.)
45 years later, he was given an opportunity to direct a feature film about one of the most historic periods of baseball, the home run chase of 1961 between Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris. Needless to say, he jumped at the opportunity and used his encyclopedic knowledge about the sport to his advantage. He not only knows statistics from so many years ago, but he also knows what the stadium looked like back then, what the players were like, how they played, the way they talked (especially Mickey, Billy once joked that he spoke with an Oklahoma drawl during his bar mitzvah) and he could relay that knowledge and passion to his cast and crew. The result is one of the best sports films ever, and also the movie picked by 411mania forumers to be the subject for the 100th Scene Anatomy 101 column, the 2001 HBOFilms presentation…
… or as I like to call it, "The Passion of the Cryst."
Backed up with a great screenplay by Hank Steinberg, Crystal tells several stories that all took place during the 1961 season. The framework of the film is Roger Maris (played by Barry Pepper) reaching 61 home runs, breaking the home run record of 60 set by Babe Ruth back in 1927, but there's more than that here.
We also see the first big career setback by Mickey Mantle (played by Thomas Jane), as his refusal to take care of himself and persistence to play despite his numerous injuries eventually led to a leg infection that cut short his year and his chance to break Babe's record, ending his season with 54 homers.
We also get an in-depth look at the front office of baseball, with commissioner Ford Frick (Donald Moffat) – who was the ghostwriter of Babe Ruth's auto-biography – determined to do everything in his power to make sure that the historic record Babe made remained untarnished by the expansion of the regular season into 162 games. His primary weapon against both Mantle and Maris was to announce that any record that is to be broken during the last eight games of the regular season was to be listed as a distinct and separate record, hence the asterisk in the title. So if either player fails to hit 60 or 61 homers by the 154th game, then the record of 60 in 154 games remains intact.
And then there's the perfect Greek Chorus of the film, the New York Sports Press. It's their job to not only report what's happening on the field, but also to comment on the action and on the players. And when there's nothing happening that's worth mentioning, they stir the shit storm to get fans talking. We see three different writers - all fictional characters - representing the three different points of view of Roger Maris in the press. One is the point of view of Sam Simon (Seymour Cassel), who wavered back and forth between admiration for Roger and indifference, yet truly rooted for neither he or Mantle to break the record. There's Artie Green (Peter Jacobson), constantly getting under Roger's skin by poking his nose into his personal life and deliberately misquoting him to make him come off like the bad guy. And then there's Milt Kahn (Richard Masur), the only writer among the ones we see that's willing to give Roger the benefit of the doubt.
The more the press poke and prod at Roger, the more Roger shows that he's not used to dealing with them and saying the wrong things like "I guess I'm not a New York kind of guy," Roger's words sparked a strange reaction by the New York fans. They began booing him… a lot. One of them even threw a chair from the upper deck at him.
But as time passed, and Mickey had to bow out of the home run chase, the fans started to come around to Roger again. They started cheering him, but even with Mickey out, the writers still hadn't felt Roger was going to hit the magic number by the 154th game. They continued their pressure and their attacks, while all Roger wanted to do was play the game and get his team into the World Series.
Finally, with Milt Kahn feeling embarrassed when Roger bailed on an interview and writing his first column attacking the player, it seemed like everyone was coming down on him more than ever. The moment before our scene begins, we see Roger in his hotel room in Baltimore, the night before the 154th game, his last chance to tie or break the Babe's record. At this point, Roger had hit 58 homers.
As Roger feels terribly alone in his room, we see him doing push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, and taking practice swings. He's like a caged animal, aching to get out on the field and stick it to everyone who ever told him he couldn't do it. But he's also starting to crack under all the pressure he's been feeling all year. The fans, the writers, the commissioner, everything has pushed him to his limit. He's started smoking heavily, up to two packs a day, he's broken out in hives, and his hair has even started falling out. On the outside, he's doing everything he can to keep composed, but on the inside he's an absolute mess.
And it's all because of this damn record. So Roger decides to do something that's not in his nature at all, but considering everything that he's gone through, this decision might just save himself from cracking for good. He brings his idea to Ralph Houk (Bruce McGill), the first-year manager on the club.
RALPH: What do you mean, you don't want to play tonight?
The overhead light is coming down on Roger as if he was being interrogated. In a way, he is since Ralph can't believe what he's hearing, and he wants some answers.
ROGER: I don't know. Maybe it's time I took a rest, Ralph. I could really use a day off.
Ralph lets that sink in for a moment, but then responds to Roger's request.
RALPH: I know we got a ten-game lead, but if we win tonight, we clinch the pennant. I want to get it over with.
ROGER: I know.
RALPH: You know Mickey's out. Bob's leg's getting worse. He may even need surgery by the end of the year. The point is I need you at center field.
But Roger still believes this is the best answer to take care of everything that's been bringing him down.
ROGER: Well, I'll be there for you tomorrow, Ralph. It's just… I really feel like I could use a… use a day off.
Ralph still doesn't cave into his player's pleading. He knows it isn't like Roger to just throw in the towel like this, no matter what kind of year he's having. So Ralph decides to coerce Roger a little differently.
RALPH: You know, the only reason most of these fans are here is to see you play. You owe it to them to get out there and give it your best shot.
Even though they're in Baltimore, the sentiment about the fans remains the same no matter what stadium they're playing in. And in Roger's mind, these are the same fans who called his house with threats to kidnap his children, sent "fan mail" calling for him to die, threw a chair at him from the upper deck and set him up with the press to look like both a two-timer and an asshole who would just sign an X on a ball for a kid. Even though the Yankee fans have softened a bit as of late, he still hasn't forgotten the hell they put him through all year.
ROGER: I owe it to them?! What the hell do I owe them, Ralph?!
RALPH: You gotta understand you mean something to these people. Good or bad. And if you quit now… they'll never forgive you.
ROGER: Ralph, they're never gonna forgive me if I do it.
Ralph's been very aware of what's been going on, seeing the press hounding after Roger with every spare moment they have. The pressure a whole city is putting him through would be too much for anyone, but he didn't think he'd let this pressure force him into taking himself out of the lineup.
RALPH: Is that what you're afraid of?
Roger paces around the room for a moment, before he finally answers him.
ROGER: No, I just want this whole thing to be over with.
Ralph nods, understanding. He then stands up, walks over to the front of his desk and sits down on it. This is starting to turn into a very civil battle of wills with Ralph refusing to give in. He's had experience motivating soldiers during the Battle of the Bulge, and he's used several familiar approaches already. Now he has to rely on that experience to get Roger to see what he's trying to walk away from. He's not trying to force Roger into playing; Roger has to want to play.
RALPH: Look, Rog. I'm not a sentimental type guy, you know, but most of us bang around the game for a while, and then we're forgotten. Ruth, Cobb, Gehrig, DiMaggio, those guys… were bigger than the game. And I know that is not what you want, but right now… whether you like it or not… you're bigger than the game.
This is a very refreshing moment to see, as a sports fan, because in recent years we've been subjected to various players who are hung up on their own stats and post-scoring celebration dances. Roger Maris, if anything, was a reluctant hero who simply wanted to play the game and help his team win as much as possible. He wasn't prepared to deal with the pressure that comes with closing in on the record of the most famous Yankee, especially considering he plays on the same team as Ruth did.
RALPH: And this is your one shot to go out there and show them what you're made of. And that, you owe to yourself.
Roger's silence shows Ralph he's starting to think it over. So he pulls out one last technique to change his mind, a compromise.
RALPH: Tell you what. Why don't you play the first inning, and if you wanna come out, you give me a look and I'll take you out.
That got him. Roger nods.
ROGER: All right then. Sounds fair.
The game starts, and Roger is the third batter up. The winds from Hurricane Esther are swirling around the stadium in Baltimore, where Roger hadn't hit a home run all year and this just happens to be where the Babe was born and raised. Roger steps up and hits one high and deep, but the wind keeps it in the park and it turns into a fly out.
However, Roger doesn't give Ralph any sign that he wants out of the game, which is exactly what Ralph knew would happen. All Roger had to do was get on the field and play the game and any thoughts about sitting out for this one would go away. Roger's passion for playing took over, and all the other crap was left on the back burner.
Sure enough, Roger's next time up, he hit number 59 and could have hit number 60 if the Baltimore manager hadn't pulled his starter in the ninth inning and brought in their closer Hoyt Wilhelm. Even though the Orioles were losing 4-2, Wilhelm came in with his knuckleball just to get Maris out. And that's exactly what he did on his second pitch, when Roger checked his swing and the ball weakly hit the ground.
While Roger wound up disappointed by the outcome, being only one home run short of tying Babe Ruth's record after 154 games, his team was there to pick him up and remind him how proud they were to be his teammates. This helped Roger crack a smile and then focus on the real matter at hand. All the Yankees needed were three more outs and they would clinch the American League and go to the World Series. (Playoff games didn't start until 1969.)
While the camera tracks Roger as he runs into the outfield with his glove, we hear the New York sports writers clicking away at their typewriters, thankful that Roger Maris – someone that they felt didn't have what it took to be the kind of player to break this beloved record – failed to make history on this night.
ARTIE: Perhaps it may sound corny, but my biggest sports thrill of 1961 was seeing Roger Maris hit a weak squib to Hoyt Wilhelm. Maris' failure to break Babe Ruth's record evokes no great regret here.
SAM: If the record is to be broken, it should be done by someone of greater baseball stature, greater color and public appeal.
ARTIE: Maris is no more than a good big-league ball player. He's colorless, he's never hit .300, and is often surly. There just isn't anything deeply heroic about the man.
When this film was released in 2001, the press mentioned to Crystal that he was kind of hard on the sports writers throughout this movie. Crystal had to remind them that these writers actually wrote these statements, but since he thought the writers ought to get a break, Hank Steinberg added in a sentiment from Milt Kahn, the only writer who had a history of defending Maris.
MILT: Is there something to be said about fate on this gloomy night in Baltimore? Did that last knuckle ball flutter just past the sweet spot? Did the spirit of Babe Ruth stir those gusting winds? Or was Roger Maris denied because he just wasn't what we wanted? Maybe some records aren't made to be broken.
But all of that didn't mean a thing, since the very next scene we see the Yankees popping open champagne bottles since they had clinched the American League. We even see Roger smiling a bit.
And why not? For the most part, the spectre of Babe Ruth has stepped aside and the team Roger plays for is going to go to the World Series once the regular season's over. Even though he could have done without Babe looming over him during the season, Roger's performance at the plate had a lot to do with the Yankees getting to the Fall Classic. And it was his passion that had a lot to do with his performance at the plate. No matter what he had to deal with, he may have bent under the pressure but he never broke.
It was this same kind of passion for the game that Billy Crystal tapped into when he directed 61*. His intricate knowledge of the players we see in the film gave the movie the extra spark that made it one of the best sports films ever made. Crystal understands that it's the little things that make films work. He gets it. He knows that attention to the overall story is important, but it's also important to teach Thomas Jane how Mickey Mantle walked to the plate every time, to get the production designers to turn Tigers Stadium in Detroit into an exact re-creation of Yankee Stadium in 1961, to show us how Roger Maris dealt with the pressure from the fans and the media.
This is the kind of film that made me want to write a column like Scene Anatomy 101.
During the two-plus years I've been at 411mania.com, I've become familiar with a lot of columns and columnists that share that very same passion that the writers, directors and actors have for the subjects they are exploring in their films, and it's that passion that makes me love writing here.
It's guys like Tony Farinella, whose passion is bringing less-remembered films into the spotlight. Like Mr. Furious, who pushes himself to watch new films every week. Like Will Helm, who absorbs every detail of every shitty movie he can find… I worry about him sometimes. Like Jacob Ziegler, who gets quality first-run reviews posted week after week. Like Bryan Kristopowitz, for coming up with a brand new column so he has another place to write about film and television. Like James Huff, for subjecting himself to movies like Failure to Launch, if only to issue the proper warning to the rest of us. Like Steve Vicious & the Boston Herald's own Al Norton for giving us heavily detailed small screen news and Chad Webb & Ben Moser for giving us the big screen news. Like J.D. Dunn for taking the mantle of the best wrestling TV show reviewer on the ‘net today. Like Matt Craggs, who makes sure that every week there's a new Fact or Fiction lined up for our reading pleasure. Like Tim O'Sullivan, Scott Rutherford, Leonard Hayhurst, James Thomlison, Mike Melchor and Larry Csonka, whose fingerprints are all over this place. And of course, there's the boss Ashish, with the passion for keeping 411mania alive in the first place. It's their work that has inspired the newer guys to come aboard and contribute with their own voices, and their voices will inspire other writers, and so on and so on.
For all of you that have taken the time to read Scene Anatomy 101 during its first 100 columns, I want to thank you. It's been a real pleasure being here. I'm looking forward to even more suggestions and comments in the future.
And just as Roger Maris was told at the end of the Baltimore game in 61*, I want to tell all of the writers here that I'm proud to be their teammate.
I'll see you guys at the beginning of December with the first step towards column #200. And while I'm gone, make sure you stop by the next two Wednesdays to check out our new writer Greg Chick, debuting next week with Yesterday's Heroes.
