Take Me Out To The Bawl Game

A movie called Fever Pitch opened this week.  It stars Jimmy Fallon (SNL guy, guest-hosted for Dave Letterman) and Drew Barrymore (starred in E.T., flashed Dave Letterman).  The basic premise:  a budding romance between Ben (Fallon) and Lindsey (Barrymore) is complicated by Ben's Red Sox obsession.  It was filmed last year, during the Sox improbable march to World Series victory.  Much like James Cameron's Titanic, there's little to spoil, since you know what's going to happen anyway, so here's the deal...

The movie, after bobbing and weaving through eight and a half innings of romantic comedy (and by "romantic", I mean "spasmodic"), culminates with Ben and Lindsey playing tonsil-tag on the field as the BoSox frenetically celebrate their big win.  And what do Red Sox fans think of this?  Well, naturally, they're offended.   Yes, offended.

Red Sox fan and ESPN.com columnist Bill Simmons called the intrusion into Boston's celebration offensive to all Red Sox fans who had waited their entire lives to see the team win its first championship since 1918.  Quoth Mr. Simmons: "I hope the movie bombs because of it."

Boston Globe film critic Wesley Morris said it reeked of "Soxploitation," and further wrote, "The sight, last year, of Fallon and Barrymore hopping onto the field and making out ... after the team won the World Series smacked of Hollywood opportunism at its most nauseating."

To Mssrs. Simmons and Morris, and the rest of the Red Sox faithful, I say: Get a grip.

Here's what you have, people.  You won the World Series.  You've broken the Curse of the Bambino.  It's captured on celluloid for all eternity.  The movie promotes your team and your city.  Indeed, it promotes the entire business/sport of Major League Baseball.  I don't need to tell anyone that MLB could use the help (but I just did, so there).  Why don't you take your World Series title and your whining and go have a nice bowl of clam chowder - then wash it all down with a tall, frosty mug of shut-the-hell-up.

Last year, because I love a good underdog as much as the next guy, I cheered the Sox through the playoffs.  But now, your petty bitching and moaning have left a bad taste in my mouth.  As much as I hate the Yankees, I hope they thoroughly clean your freaking clock this year.  Then the Farrelly brothers can do a sequel where Ben and Lindsey die in front of the Green Monster in a bloody murder/suicide.  Call it Fever Pitch II: The Sox Stink.  I'll bring the popcorn.