For the dwindling few of us who still channel-surf on our TVs, the courtroom scene in the 1992 movie A Few Good Men inevitably brings our remote controls to a full and complete stop.
More than likely you know the scene. Tom Cruise, playing the part of Lt. Daniel Kaffee of the Navy’s JAG corps (i.e., its legal arm), spars with Jack Nicholson’s Col. Nathan Jessup, the highly decorated if misguided commander of a Marine Corps unit in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.
You also likely know the signature line in the scene, and indeed the entire movie: “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!!!” Jessup, annoyed that he is even being questioned about the death of a Marine in his command, Private William Santiago, thunders it at Kaffee amid a brilliant soliloquy.
Great as that line is, I’m partial to another Jessup utters, moments later: “Santiago’s death, while tragic, probably saved lives.” To me that fully illuminates Jessup’s cold, cold heart. He cares nothing about this lowly private, indeed nothing about anyone other than himself. His ambition overshadows all.
All of this got me to thinking about the best scenes in my favorite sports movies, which I will share in this space over the next few days. Understand this will not be a comprehensive list; if it were, I would certainly include something from Raging Bull and Hoop Dreams, two of the greatest sports films ever (if indeed either can be categorized as such). Nor will you see anything about The Natural, Field of Dreams, Rudy or Space Jam, as I appear to be the only living American not to have watched those movies.
No, this wasn’t a hard-target search of every “warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse,” as U.S. Marshal Samuel Gerard (Tommy Lee Jones) says in The Fugitive (speaking of great scenes). I just decided to revisit some favorite scenes in my favorite sports films.
So arrest me, to paraphrase another Gerard line.
Let’s start in Durham, N.C.:
Bull Durham (1988)
The Choice: The Sandy Grimes scene. The movie is, among other things, about Crash Davis (Kevin Costner) and Annie Savoy (Susan Sarandon) grooming minor league pitcher Nuke LaLoosh (Tim Robbins), so that he might have a shot at The Show — i.e., the major leagues. (And never mind that Robbins’ pitching motion is such a mess that he looks like he couldn’t break a pane of glass, much less 90 on the JUGS gun. Suspension of disbelief, right?) Nuke eventually gets called up, but before leaving tracks down an overserved Crash, his catcher, at a pool hall. And there Crash imparts one last lesson, about the randomness of baseball (and indeed life). He does so with the aid of the establishment’s owner, Grimes (Harry G. Sanders), who one year hit .371 — excuse me, .376 — in the minors.
“You know what the difference between hitting .250 and .300 is?” Crash asks a mystified Nuke, while pouring himself another drink. “It’s 25 hits. Twenty-five hits in 500 at-bats is 50 points. There’s six months in a season. That’s about 25 weeks. That means if you get just one extra flare a week — just one, a gork … you get a groundball — you get a groundball with eyes … you get a dying quail. Just one more dying quail a week, and you’re in Yankee Stadium.”
His message is simple: The Baseball Gods have presented Nuke with an opportunity that few receive, that indeed Crash himself barely received, having spent all but three weeks of his professional career in the bush leagues. So the opportunity cannot be wasted.
Runner-up: So many to choose from, but I’ve always been partial to the “Lollygaggers” scene, as well as those where Crash informs the hitter as to what pitch Nuke is about to serve up. (“Anything that travels that far oughta have a damn stewardess on it, don’t you think?”) There’s also the mound conference in which the players struggle with jammed eyelids, a cursed glove and wedding registries, and the scene where Crash teaches Nuke his cliches. (Someone I know fairly well has in fact regurgitated those very lines.)
Nitpicks: Coulda lived with a few less references to The Show, but otherwise hard to quibble with the work of director Ron Shelton, a one-time Orioles minor leaguer.
Unanswered questions: Happily, there was no Bull Durham II, so we are left to wonder how Crash might have fared as the manager at Visalia, or how Nuke’s major league career might have unfolded. (Guessing 37-45, 4.48 over seven seasons, with a stop in the Phillies’ bullpen along the way). One more question: Would Annie have gone back to teaching English 101 and Beginning Composition at Alamance Junior College?