In both cases, the film works more as Greek tragedy than heroic sports triumph. Because frankly, the triumphant sports movie is pretty damn boring. Take a look at Miracle--it's based on the greatest and most triumphant sports moment in American history, it is well written and well directed and well acted, and yet it doesn't really exceed the level of good. It's far from great. Raging Bull and Damned United are not Cinderella stories--both are essentially biopics about immeasurable talents whose fatal flaws (arguably, both insecurity) prevent them from immeasurable success.
That's why with my ten sports movies waiting to happen, I try to avoid the cliche. Contrary to what many a reader may believe, a movie about the 2011 Cardinals would almost certainly be terrible. The film would have no drama; sure, the field drama was high, but that cannot come close to translating to as great of an extent in a work of fiction as it does in real life. Frankly, the fact that it would make a true cornball movie does as much to reveal what a great real-life story it is as much as it shows how miserable of a film it would be. With that said, here's ten movies just waiting to happen.
Joe DiMaggio's Life From His Marriage To Marilyn Monroe Until Her Death--Now let me be perfectly clear: There have been scores of mostly terrible Marilyn Monroe life adaptations. But DiMaggio is always shown to just be along for the ride. The truth of the matter is that Joe DiMaggio's brief, tumultuous marriage and its tragic aftermath actually make for a pretty damn intriguing love story. Here, you have a shy celebrity marrying a living goddess--a fairly boring story in and of itself. But you also have a man who, while a complete failure of a husband (becoming extremely jealous of the attention Marilyn received), was quite obviously tormented by guilt--as Marilyn went on the fast track of drug and alcohol abuse, the legendary athlete put his own ego aside to try to care for a woman he partially blamed for destroying. This was a surly man who, when facing guilt, went as far as to plan the funeral for a woman who had left him eight years prior and who would frequent her grave, reflecting on his own mistakes. It's arguably not even a sports movie as much as a personal drama, but as far as I'm concerned, it would be a tremendous crack into the notion of infallible sports superstardom.
Boston College's 1978-79 Point Shaving Scandal--Sadly, amazingly, this is often overlooked as an intriguing sports scandal. Most amazing about its relative obscurity is that many of the characters in this hypothetical film are also characters in Goodfellas. To some extent this story was done with the Black Sox biopic Eight Men Out, but there's extra levels of intrigue here. First, point shaving is a more interesting animal than straight-up tanking--it requires a hell of a lot more nuance and planning if you think about it. Second, it's a more justifiable offense--it wouldn't be hard to imagine Boston College basketball players being able to concede that at least they aren't trying to lose. Not only do you get the intrigue of Henry Hill (Ray Liotta in Goodfellas) strong-arming a bunch of amateurs while Jimmy Burke (Robert DeNiro in Goodfellas) runs the operation, you even get to re-open debates about amateurism and pay-for-play.
The Fall of Donnie Moore--Perhaps no point is more important in most good sports movies than the simple rule that sports aren't THAT important. Donnie Moore didn't understand this. It's one thing for your sports career to unravel due to allowing a big home run in a big game--it's an entirely different animal for your entire life to unravel. The average jackass booing from the bleachers doesn't think it can affect a player's psyche--Donnie Moore was booed nearly every time he pitched for the two seasons after he deprived the California Angels of a chance at their first World Series appearance ever. It's a game for boys played by men who often have the fragile psyches of boys--Donnie Moore is the most extreme example in baseball history of a man who could not realize it's just a game.
The Rise of Alan Kulwicki--That many people do not know who Alan Kulwicki is remains a shame. But the uber-maverick NASCAR owner/driver re-defined American motorsports. At a time of southern Scots-Irish good ol boys dominating the Winston Cup, Kulwicki was a college-educated Wisconsin-born Catholic who outsmarted his way to the top. Much as Moneyball is the story of brains over brawn, Kulwicki's life story is that of a man who played by his own rules, owning his own team and doing the unthinkable--winning the Winston Cup. Kulwicki's life unfortunately ended in tragedy the year after his Cup triumph, in which NASCAR had to endure the unbelievable burden of losing two of its three top drivers within the span of a few months due to two unrelated aviation accidents, but the story of Alan Kulwicki, who died at the age of thirty-eight, ought to be viewed as nothing less than a triumph of perseverance.
The Times of John Daly--To some extent, Happy Gilmore took care of this story. But it borders on impossible to find an athlete who more obviously exemplifies raw talent and unfulfilled promise than John Daly. Just as the aforementioned Kulwicki was a rare intellectual in a sport where many superstars never even finished high school, Daly is basically the living embodiment of Rodney Dangerfield in Caddyshack: He doesn't look like a pro golfer, but he sure as hell played like one. He is an alcoholic, womanizing, rambling gambling man--but he's also charismatic, likable, and a hell of a talent. There's really no narrative, no happy nor blatantly miserable endings here--it's just the story of a man who, even throughout the heyday of Tiger Woods, was the most interesting man in golf.
Christy Martin--Christy Martin is probably the least known subject of one of my suggestions. And while women's boxing having a Best Picture winner may suggest that it has more than been covered, Christy Martin's story has too many angles to pass up. First, it's a story of modern marketing--Martin was a semi-closeted lesbian who was encouraged to be portrayed as a rare feminine force in women's boxing, something which she was not bothered by doing in and of itself, until it got to a point where she was making homophobic remarks about opponents. Second, it's a (I'll admit, somewhat cliche) story of a naive young woman staying by her man, even when all logic says she needs to run, and fast. Third, it's the story of triumph (she made a strong attempt at a boxing comeback at an advanced age and after coming back from a near-fatal stabbing) falling just short on the playing surface (she lost in a heartbreaking, questionable TKO) but finding redemption in her life (personal happiness with a new love). Oscar, please.
Danny Almonte--What does it say about a society where a story like Danny Almonte's can happen? You know how The Ringer seemed like an implausible movie because, come on, who the hell would rig the Special Olympics? Well, who the hell would rig the Little League World Series? You can't blame the kid--Danny Almonte, who was playing in the 12-and-under LLWS at the age of 14, couldn't speak English and was completely naive to what was going on. When Almonte was alleged to be twelve, he was the toast of the universe--Derek Jeter was raving about him and he was the biggest story on SportsCenter on a nightly basis during a MLB season in which Barry Bonds hit seventy-three home runs. When he was revealed to be just two years older--keep in mind that Almonte cannot reasonably be blamed for ANY of this--he was no longer touted as the future of baseball pitching. He became a punchline. He was older than we thought but he was still just fourteen. Much like Jake LaMotta in Raging Bull, he was reduced to sideshow. Because a bunch of jerkass adults made him so.
Josh Hamilton--Josh Hamilton has always been a man who came just a little bit short. He was hailed as the next Griffey coming out of high school but didn't seem immediately to have the talent. When he started to piece things together, he found drugs. When he got over the drugs, he relapsed. When he got clean, he became a triumphant star. When he mentally put himself back into a sense of true security, he had to deal with the impossible tragedy of the Shannon Stone incident. When he avenged that and injuries to hit a home run that should have capped off his perseverance and a World Series win which could cap an improbable life comeback, his team fell short. And he relapsed again. There's three types of movies this could become--a saccharine story about how wonderful Josh Hamilton is, a dark tale of a spoiled athlete who didn't realize how lucky he had it, and the story of a complex character who has never put it all together but who still soldiers on. The former two would make for terrible movies--the latter one could work.
Armando Galarraga/Jim Joyce--The two already wrote a book together so maybe the story has been properly told, but it would be nearly impossible to tell future generations just how big of a story the near-perfect game was for, well, a few days. But that's the kind of slice-of-life movie this story could become. It's a hell of a task to make a movie in which the two protagonists should essentially be enemies, neither of whom is honestly all that interesting of a character, and the antagonist is the viewer. But this story sums up the nihilism of sports media. These are two good guys who absolutely handled things the right way--Galarraga noted (correctly) that Jim Joyce's bad call didn't truly affect anything but a meaningless record, and Joyce noted (correctly) that he made a mistake, something that's rare among MLB umpires. It doesn't matter, though, for the masses that these two men moved on so quickly and made amends so vociferously--it matters that fans who had never heard of Armando Galarraga before that night felt cheated. It's that sort of identity crisis that fans have with sports which make the movie worth making.
Kevin Hart, the Cal "Recruit"--This story got decent attention when it came out, then (perhaps rightly) disappeared, but it still fascinates me. A mediocre football talent fixed his own National Signing Day ceremony, committing to play for a California football program which had not recruited him. It seems like a joke, and it is, but it's a truly sad one. What possesses a kid to feel he needs to call such attention for himself? Severe ego issues, absolutely, but also a society which values this sort of thing. Hell, the fact that anyone could think this guy should have a movie about him says a lot about the environment which created the story. Kevin Hart is interesting because, while a vast majority of us can recognize that what he did was wrong and unethical, it's also hard on some level to blame him. Warhol's claim of fifteen minutes of fame does not yet apply to everyone--it applies, however, to those who grab it by the horns. Kevin Hart did this.
I'm curious about suggestions anyone else has. Please leave them in the comments and/or tell me about how these ideas suck.
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