#38: Major League — dir. by David Ward
It’s hard to get into the best sports movie of all time argument. I know geographically and biologically, I’m supposed to say Rocky. And I know instinctively, it’s probably a baseball movie, more likely Field of Dreams or Bull Durham. It ain’t a basketball film. It’s not a soccer film. Golf, probably the number 3. Football, well, hmm. Hockey, Slap Shot, maaaaaybe Mighty Ducks, but honestly, no. And at least five Air Bud films. So I won’t posit that Major League is the best sports film of all time. Not a chance.
And yet, I’ll watch that son of a bitch every time it’s on. It’s so quotable. Who doesn’t say “Juuuuuuuuust a bit outside”? I do the “Fuck you, Joboo, I do it myself” speech at least once a month to myself to psyche myself up. It’s a rowdy film that became a catch phrase. Even though the second film makes fun of itself for that aspect — the whole Rick Vaughn “Gentleman” storyline — it still became that. They made three Major Leagues, and Sheen was trying to raise capital for a fourth before he wetnt all hashtags and tiger blood. But none of them will ever capture the magic of the first one.
I don’t know when the tradition of the smart ass announcers began. I think it was Naked Gun. But Bob Uecker’s Harry Doyle is outstanding and definitely set the bar high. And an R rated sports comedy?! Who the fuck does that? That’s amazingly ballsy. Pun fully intended.