Pandemic projects

Masked-up at Road America.

It's a day that many didn't think would arrive in 2020: Opening Day in Major League Baseball.

Yes, it's true. MLB teams will head to various ballparks across the country today and play baseball, with plenty of modifications because we're still in a pandemic, after all. One of the most notable things is that they'll be playing in empty ballparks without fans in attendance. Although from watching the Twins exhibition game the other night, the general buzz of crowd noise being pumped into the stadium is a nice touch.

It's certainly been a strange year, sports-wise and otherwise. In April, I struggled a little with how to fill my time in baseball's absence. Adjustments were made, and I started keeping a list of things I accomplished during quarantine times. There were small things and some bigger projects, but whatever made the list seemed like a productive use of my time, so I wrote them down.

Here are some of the things that made the list, in no particular order:

Tuna pasta dish.

• Organized/tossed five year's worth of Twins boxscores/stats
• Organized files on my laptop
• Updated my LinkedIn profile
• Grabbed PDFs of my various stories I've written over the years
• Updated my website (a task that is never finished) 
• Organized my nail polish container, tossing a lot of old bottles
• Organized/deleted items on my Google Drive to go from 84% full to 33% full 
• Saved audio recordings to my laptop folders - and deleted nearly 200 recordings off the recorder
• Wrote a blog post for the National Institute for Social Media 
• Phone interviews, transcribing, writing for Otter Tail Lakes Country Magazine stories
• Made a list of what to keep/delete from the DVR 
• Organized my phone apps into folders
• Organized/deleted photos from my phone
• Made GIFs for work
• Put together two puzzles
• Wrote five feature stories for USAHockey.com 

  

  Nail polish collection.

• A League of Their Own movie commentary
• The Rookie movie commentary
• Guest on a couple of sports podcasts
• Watched old Twins and Wild games, leaving commentary on Twitter with #HeathWrites hashtag
• Stayed active on social with #TwinsTuesdays, #MNWildWednesdays and #TBT posts 
• Made new connections via webinars, Zoom happy hours and various social-media messaging
• Played piano
• Became active on TikTok, wasting a lot of time 
• Went for a lot of walks
• Tried out a bunch of new recipes - and then did a lot of dishes
• Enjoyed free evenings and weekends (sports colleagues feel me on this one, right?)
• Read books
• Attended the first IndyCar race of the season with (socially-distanced) fans at Road America
• Binged the last four seasons of Castle (ok, this one isn't really productive, but still)

The upright piano.

I hope loyal readers and followers will recognize a few things on the list, specifically the movie commentaries. I'm particularly proud of those. I think I will look back on this time and remember those as my biggest accomplishments of quarantine. And stay tuned, because I don't think I'm done with sports-movie commentaries yet. I'll see how that goes because writing up 14-part commentaries after watching a movie and taking notes isn't done in a day. 

Some things on the list are more for fun, like reading books and playing the piano. I've never stopped, it's just that during this time I started hitting the keys a lot more. I tried to work on the sheet music for "My Heart Will Go On" from Titanic so I could play it a little more smoothly. It's definitely much-improved now. To let you know just how empty my calendar/planner was early on, I started writing things like "play piano" and "go for a walk" in there just so I could check something off my list for the day. 

I know a lot of people cleaned things out in their homes in an amped-up spring cleaning this year. I didn't do as much of that with physical things, except for the nail polish collection and Twins boxscores, but I chose the electronic route. It felt good to get my recorder down to nearly zero, so I can stop having to delete random files to make room for additional recordings. Organizing photos, documents and files on my computer was also a necessary task. 

As I stayed active on my social media channels, I wanted to make sure I set aside time to update my website with writing clips and PDFs. It's a task that never seems to end, but I enjoy having the online portfolio to showcase my work. 

Thanks to Todd Kortemeier with Red Line Editorial for throwing some work my way with USAHockey.com; it was nice to have some stories to write during the downtime. And thanks to my friend Marie Noplos, who got me started with the Otter Tail Lakes Country magazine feature stories. I was glad to get a jumpstart on those this spring and summer. 

During a time when time takes on a different meaning, it was nice to be able to enjoy evenings and weekends. I have some opposite feelings of other friends, who felt busier and more stressed as they shifted to working from home and had no idea what day it was. That's how I often feel in the heart of a sports season working evenings and weekends (What's a weekend?). So, a silver lining for me was the slowdown and enjoy some of this time. Part of that was going for walks in the neighborhood after supper with my parents. 

Bring on Bomba SZN!

And now, baseball is here. Sure, it's for a scheduled 60-game season in roughly two months rather than a 162-game season in about six months, and there are more than 100 pages of rules for it to happen. COVID-19 is still here and ultimately still in control of what might happen. It's a consensus that the Minnesota Twins are fielding a team that's the best in the club's history - on paper. And this year more than any other, "on paper" might have a huge meaning.

For the Twins, it's 60 scheduled games for their 60th season in Minnesota. The record-setting Bomba Squad won't break the home-run record it set last year with 307 Bombas, but with most of the pieces back, and additions like Josh Donaldson and pitchers Homer Bailey, Rich Hill and Kenta Maeda, the Twins should be entertaining to watch once again. 

As we all get back into the swing of sports, the best we can, I'll still be mindful of caution and health. I'll also be working from home this season, which is a bummer especially from the standpoint of the camaraderie I've been missing with friends and colleagues in the press box. But let's hope we can all adapt and find ways to get our work done while still enjoying some baseball. 

Thanks to everyone for following along with me on my social channels and reading my work. It's always appreciated. 

Now... bring on baseball! 

The Rookie commentary, part 14: ‘Morris, you’re in’

It’s a 5-1 Devil Rays deficit when the ‘pen’s phone jingles again. This time when the coach hangs up, he tells Jimmy to start warming up.

Hunter, of course, notices right away from his seat in the upper deck. Jimmy stretches out his arm while the trio of “old guys” from Jimmy’s town peep at him through a pair of binoculars. Jimmy’s mom is in the stands, too. Back on the field, the Rangers bust the game wide-open with a couple of more runs thanks to a Rays error. So, the Devil Rays are in clean-up mode here. Not exactly a pressure-cooker situation for the bullpen.

The trainer heads to the mound, and the ‘pen phone rings once again.

“Morris, you’re in.”

His MLB debut

Jimmy jogs down the stairs to get from the bullpen to the field. While he makes his way, we see his loved ones in the stands – family, friends, Owls players – looking at the bullpen door with great anticipation that turns to cheers once they see that door open up and Jimmy jogging from the outfield toward the pitcher’s mound. We also get a nice close-up shot of him running in.

The audio feed cuts to a TV announcer giving baseball fans an idea of Jimmy’s story: “Just three months ago, he was grading chemistry tests.” True, and he also coached his high school players to a district championship.

Once he finally gets to the mound, the manager asks about that fastball Jimmy was telling him about before the game. “Well, I need three of them.”

With two outs late in the game, the PA announcer mentioned Jim Morris making his Major League debut. There’s a quick shot of the press box here, where each writer is sitting with his own TV set on the desk, all illuminated with a large, green desk lamp.

There’s that fastball again
Jimmy is on the mound, doing his usual preparation. He moves his foot back and forth, digging in. Holding the baseball down at his side, he gives it a subtle shake in his hand. The right-handed hitter falls behind 0-1 with a hack on a 98-mph fastball. The Owls in the stands are ecstatic.

Jimmy burns in another fastball, this time a looking strike, for an 0-2 count. More cheers from his fan club. Remember, this is a home game for Texas and Jimmy plays for Tampa Bay. It’s not like the entire stadium is behind Jimmy here.

For the third pitch, we’re treated to a camera pan up from the bottom of the mound to Jimmy’s sweating face. That same concentration we’ve seen throughout the movie is there. The sound drops out for a moment, and the next pitch is delivered in slow motion.

Fastball. Swing. Miss. Strike three. Jimmy Morris strikes out the first batter he faces in the Major Leagues on three pitches. Perfect.

Brooks is the first one to greet Jimmy when he walks off the mound to the dugout on the third-base side. More cheers from his loved ones, too.

Postgame scrum, and a reunion of sorts
Showered and dressed in that blue sport coat, Jimmy is swarmed by the press and TV reporters after the game. They ask what pitches he threw for that strikeout. “Fastball, fastball and fastball,” Jimmy says. Duh.

How’d it feel to pitch in the major leagues? Very to-the-point, basic softballs here. “Just like I hoped it would.”

Even though Jimmy has shown no signs of injury or anything, a reporter asks him how his arm feels. Jimmy never answers. His gaze shifts past the reporters, past the bright camera lights. Standing down the hall is his father. Jimmy excuses himself from the media scrum, quite clearly shocked to see his dad.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Jimmy tells his dad.

“Wasn’t missing this one… Watching you tonight, not many fathers get a chance to do that. I guess I let too many of those things get away,” Jimmy’s father says. The movie doesn’t show it, but there’s also a giant lightbulb hanging over his head, and it switched on.

“So did I,” Jimmy responds.

When his father turns to leave, Jimmy calls him back. He pulls the game ball out of his pocket and gives it to him.

If there was tension between the real Jimmy and his dad and they made up like this, awesome. Great story. But that’s what it feels like – a story. They didn’t get along for the entire movie, and it was made into a huge subplot. And now we’re supposed to believe that everything’s all good and he gives his first game ball to his dad? Seems to fit too well, if you ask me.

One reunion leads to another and another
His father walks away toward a dark area underneath the stadium. OK, how the hell did he get down there? This is clearly an area fans do not have access to. But he just happened to show up so they could have this little scene. And as Jimmy is on the verge of tears, he turns to see Lorri in one of the dark corners of the creepy underground.

“Does that mean I don’t get a baseball?”

Damn straight, Lorri. (Actually, I’d probably give it to Hunter.)

Lorri and Jimmy embrace with a passionate kiss. Well, as passionate as is allowed in a Disney film. Finally reunited after his months of playing ball on the road, they walk up a ramp (an exit to this underground part of the stadium?) with their arms around each other.

Jimmy asks about the kids, and I think Lorri says they’re with one of the old fellows from town – and he had a little help. Just then, Jimmy turns around offering one of the most pleasantly surprised looks on his face when he’s greeted with a sea of people applauding and cheering for him. His own hometown fan club. Hunter and Jessie jump into their dad’s arms. Jimmy takes in the moment of the crowd cheering for him.

He’s still so shocked by the ovation. It’s well deserved. He finally made it to the big leagues, after all.

 

Wrapping it up

Some time later, the movie takes us back to the front of the school in Big Lake, then the camera pans over to the trophy case in the hallway inside. Hanging up ever-so-neatly is a Devils Rays jersey with a crisp No. 63 and “Morris” on the back, facing outward. A Rays cap is also hanging nearby, because I suppose having a shine to a Jiffy Lube cap would be weird. And let’s be honest, Jimmy probably wore that same Jiffy Lube cap for decades.

On a nearby shelf in the case, there’s a team photo of the district-champion Owls baseball team. The camera gives us a close-up of Jimmy’s face in the photo, and the screen fades into a picture of the nuns from the beginning of the movie leaving the windy, dusty ballyard. With that as the backdrop, one last text graphic is displayed:

“Jim Morris pitched in the Major Leagues for two seasons. He lives, once again, in Texas.”

Fade to black, roll credits.

Thanks for reading!
For those of you who read through the end of my “A League of Their Own”commentary, you’ll recall how much I gushed over the ending credits in that movie, complete with baseball, old photos and a great song. Well, the credits in “The Rookie” are as basic as it gets. Sorry to disappoint you.

We’ve reached the end of my second sports-movie commentary. I’d like to thank the quarantine/pandemic for the time I’ve been given for this project. I’d also like to give a big shout-out to all my readers and followers on my various social channels. I always appreciate the support.

Now, let’s play ball! 

The Rookie commentary, part 1: ‘What kind of baseball do they have? … They don’t.
The Rookie commentary, part 2: ‘There are more important things in life than baseball’

The Rookie commentary, part 3: ‘Yeah dad, bring the heat!’
The Rookie commentary, part 4: ‘You don’t have dreams, you don’t have anything’
The Rookie commentary, part 5: 'You got your shot at baseball. You got hurt.' 
The Rookie commentary, part 6: 'State! State! State!'
The Rookie commentary, part 7: 'It's your turn, coach'
The Rookie commentary, part 8: 'You just threw 98 mph'
The Rookie commentary, part 9: ‘Do you know how many guys can throw the ball 98 mph?’
The Rookie commentary, part 10: 'What are we telling him if you don't try now?'
The Rookie commentary, part 11: 'I'm the old guy'
The Rookie commentary, part 12: 'I'm wasting my time down here'
The Rookie commentary, part 13: 'There's a dress code in the Major Leagues'

The Rookie commentary, part 13: ‘There’s a dress code in the Major Leagues’

The next day, Jimmy is downright bubbly as he enters the locker room and strolls over to a shirtless Brooks in front of the mirror. “You know what we get to do today, Brooks? We get to play baseball!”

Oh yeah, baseball-loving Jimmy is back.

Morris is pitching in the game, obviously inspired. We don’t see much of the game but get shots of some of his high-school players listening to the audio feed via a 1990s-bulky computer. “Coach is really bringing it tonight,” Rudy says. The Morris family is listening, too, and Hunter is keeping track of his dad’s strikeouts with Ks written on Post-Its. Have I mentioned I love this kid?

A visit to the skipper’s office
With a win for the good guys in the books, Jimmy is called into the manager’s office and told to shut the door. So serious. Skip tells Jimmy that he got off the phone with the big club. In a dramatic-effect movie twist, he says they’re calling up Brooks. Jimmy is all gentleman-like when he says how great that is and that Brooks won’t be back in the minors.

But skip is pretty coy here, and he deadpans that he thought Jimmy would like to tell Brooks the news “… being as you’re going, too.”

Jimmy is stunned. “They’re calling me up?”

As if it couldn’t get any more storybook, the manager informs Jimmy that the Rays are on the road right now. In Texas. The whole moment is a sly delivery from the manager. He keeps it simple, informational, but he’s also hiding a grin because he recognizes what this moment means for his pitcher. Jimmy takes in the news with a couple of big deep breaths before leaving the office.

Telling his people
Cut to Lorri assembling a salad in the kitchen at home as the phone rings. Sort of like the manager, Jimmy doesn’t just blurt out the news to her either. He asks Lorri about his blue sport coat that he never wears. His way of telling her that he made it to the Major Leagues is asking her to bring the coat to Arlington (Texas) tomorrow.

It takes a very brief second, but Lorri catches her breath and catches on, prodding him to actually tell her the good news. “You tell me right now, Jimmy Morris.”

“Uh, apparently,” Jimmy staggers. “There’s a dress code in the major leagues.”

Tears spring to Lorri’s eyes, leaving her speechless. Jimmy wants her to tell everybody the news, and of course, she will, but she wants him to tell one other person first. She calls Hunter to come to the phone.

Jimmy tries so hard to control those wet pockets in his eyes, needing to be composed though still choking back the tears.

“Hey buddy,” Jimmy says to Hunter. “Hey, guess what? Your daddy is going to be a major league pitcher.”

“Really? Cool.”

And then as a curious 8-year-old boy, Hunter asks which team he’ll play for and then he wants to know what a devil ray is, the color and if you can eat it. Don’t worry Hunter, they’ll drop the “devil” from the name in a few years. Much cooler.

We finish the scene hearing Hunter say: “My daddy’s a big-league pitcher.” #Heartstrings

Making it to the big-league ballpark
Lorri probably didn’t have to do much to spread the word in their small town. That night, some of the high school ballplayers caused a ruckus driving down main street, honking the car horn, yelling and celebrating the moment for their coach. They also print off flyers, handing them out at school, sticking them on windshields: “Come watch Coach Morris in the Big Leagues – tonight in Arlington – meet at ballfield at 2 p.m.”

Ticket sales at the Ballpark in Arlington that night probably went up by about the population of Big Lake.

The next day, the street in front of the Ballpark in Arlington is completely deserted as a taxi pulls up to drop off Brooks and Jimmy. They walk into the gate, and camera shots from above help showcase the magnitude of the moment, with Jimmy looking around in awe knowing that this is his office for the night.

A custodian lets them into the visitor’s clubhouse, saying the rest of the team won’t be there for a couple of hours. My hunch says this early arrival is to let movie-Jimmy have his moment and take it all in for the film purposes. A call-up playing in a game the next day, with travel, might arrive at the park later than the MLB team instead of before, right? Maybe. But that would have ruined the moment.

“We aren’t in Kansas anymore, are we ‘Riv (Old Man River)?” Brooks says to Jimmy when they see the luxurious clubhouse space compared to their dank locker rooms they’re used to in the minors.

Jimmy finds a No. 63 Devil Rays jersey hanging in what appears to be his locker stall. Lorri successfully delivered the blue sport coat, hanging neatly alongside with another surprise: The Santa Rita coin.

Pregame reunion
Before game time out in the stadium, Jimmy warms up in the bullpen, and we’re treated to those familiar sound effects to showcase his pitch speed and crack into the mitt. The bullpen coaches grin from ear-to-ear seemingly very pleased with this new arm they’ve acquired.

Lorri shows up in the stands near the ‘pen and can’t resist yelling out to him. “Jimmy. Jimmy Morris!” Hunter and Jessie are in tow, and they run down the aisle to greet Jimmy, who stands on a bench to come as close to his family as he can. Lorri reaches her hand down to grab his, saying he looks great and she “can’t believe it.” Jimmy reaches out for the kids, too, saying he misses them and remarks on how big they’ve gotten. Typical dad stuff.

Their mom says they’ve got to let daddy get to work. They walk away and Jimmy raises himself up further, intent on keeping his eyes on his family for as long as he can. His smile spreads across his face like it’s Christmas morning. It’s adorable, really.

A few of the Owls players made it to the stadium, too, the camera follows behind as they make their way from the concourse into an upper-deck section in the outfield. This gives the audience a glimpse of how massive the stage is for Jimmy. It’s a true big-league ballpark. He’s not in Big Lake anymore.

Not showing a full nine-inning game, we see some game action and the Texas Rangers take a 1-0 lead before the Devil Rays tie it 1-1 in the second inning. Some more time passes before we see a call to the bullpen phone. It’s not for Jimmy.

The Rangers extended their lead to 3-1 in the bottom of the sixth while Jimmy sits nervously in the bullpen. Remember, there’s no guarantee he’ll get in to pitch in his first opportunity. But this being a movie, they wouldn’t take us down this path for him to sit there and spit seeds. 

The Rookie commentary, part 1: ‘What kind of baseball do they have? … They don’t.
The Rookie commentary, part 2: ‘There are more important things in life than baseball’

The Rookie commentary, part 3: ‘Yeah dad, bring the heat!’
The Rookie commentary, part 4: ‘You don’t have dreams, you don’t have anything’
The Rookie commentary, part 5: 'You got your shot at baseball. You got hurt.' 
The Rookie commentary, part 6: 'State! State! State!'
The Rookie commentary, part 7: 'It's your turn, coach'
The Rookie commentary, part 8: 'You just threw 98 mph'
The Rookie commentary, part 9: ‘Do you know how many guys can throw the ball 98 mph?’
The Rookie commentary, part 10: 'What are we telling him if you don't try now?'
The Rookie commentary, part 11: 'I'm the old guy'
The Rookie commentary, part 12: 'I'm wasting my time down here'

The Rookie commentary, part 12: ‘I’m wasting my time down here’

Back on the bus, Jimmy pulls out a crayon drawing, a Morris Children original, and stares at it, no doubt missing home and his family. When the bus arrives at the team’s next destination, Jimmy, still looking rugged and tired, stretches out his pitching arm as he gets up from his bus seat before slowly grabbing his bag from underneath the bus.

His teammate, Brooks, calls Jimmy “Old Man River” and says he’s moving kind of slow. Brooks assures the old man that he has a recipe for him, which means they’re headed to a local dive bar for food and beverages. Of course.

Brooks and Jimmy are joined by another teammate who shortens the nickname to “River” and asks what it was like for Jimmy to watch Babe Ruth play baseball. Hardy-har-har, the jokes about Jimmy being old are getting old. Jimmy’s not slow on the uptick though, firing a zinger right back at the other pitcher. Then the guy starts to say something about Jimmy, essentially alluding to the fact that his whole team is talking crap about him behind his back.

Catching on, Jimmy can see that the guys think he’s there as some kind of PR stunt holding a roster spot hostage. He wants Brooks, a player he clearly trusts to at least some extent, to level with him. Brooks both dodges the question and offers a compliment.

“You’re too fast for me. That’s all I know,” Brooks says about Jimmy’s pitching.

Time in the minors is getting to Jimmy
At another ball game, Brooks hits one into the gap (this establishes that Brooks is a solid hitter and doing well in the minors) and checks in at second base as Jimmy starts to warm up in the ‘pen. Jimmy, wearing No. 15, faces the stands from his bullpen mound. He looks up to see a father helping his young son adjust the ball glove in his hand, and they’re seen talking about the game on the field. Jimmy can look at this from two directions – missing his son, Hunter, and perhaps missing out on the time he would have liked to share with his own father.

Postgame, Jimmy is in the manager’s office saying he knows the call-up to the majors is going to be Brooks. The manager is more optimistic, saying there’s been more than one call-up before. But Jimmy seems to have made up his mind. He lays it all out for skip, mentioning the pile of unpaid bills at home when he’s only making $600 a month pitching, plus the family he hasn’t seen in three months. This gives us some idea of the timeframe, by the way. After the high school baseball season in the spring, Jimmy has pretty much been pitching in the minors all summer, so this is sometime in September when major-league rosters expand for players to call-up from the minors.

To finish off his speech to the skipper, Jimmy offers up that line from his dad, the one that made him seething mad: “It’s OK to think about what you want to do until it was time to start doing what you were meant to do.”

The skipper lets Jimmy know that he’s been his best relief pitcher the past month. If that’s some kind of consolation.

He’s ready to pack it in

Jimmy then calls Lorri, resigned to the fact that he’s given it his second shot. He tells her he’s coming home, and, of course, she’s worried he got hurt again. His pride might be hurt, I suppose, but he tells his wife that it’s just time. He’ll be ready to start that new job in three weeks.

“I’m wasting my time down here,” Jimmy tells Lorri.

In a role reversal from when they discussed Jimmy giving pitching another try, Lorri is the one convincing Jimmy that he should stick it out. Or, at the very least he has to make sure he’s heading home for the right reasons. He’ll be the one that has to live with this decision. Then she poses this question, that I think a lot of us in any profession could ask ourselves when we find ourselves at a crossroads: “Do you still love it?”

Jimmy stays silent as Lorri tells him to think about it.

Thinking it over… with a brew and ball game
What better place to think than one of those local bars? Jimmy is nursing a bottle of Miller suds and eating peanuts while perched on a barstool. He looks up to the TV behind the bar and sees the ABC piece that was done on him (the one that annoyed his teammates), introduced by the real-life Charles Gibson.

Jimmy watches the story, hears the voiceover of his story, about him being too old for the minors but still throwing the ball hard. He says the game has been the true love of his life (other than his wife) since he was a little boy.

Back home in Texas, we see the mouthy Wack watching the story with his family. A random shot to remind us we’re not completely done with the high-school players.

Watching this story is the first part for Jimmy that gets him thinking about his passion for the game. Apparently, this bar was within walking distance of a youth baseball field, because Jimmy steps outside and sees the stadium lights and hears the sounds of a game happening.

He walks over to the outfield side of the field, resting his arms on top of the chain-link fence. A new half inning is about to commence, and the centerfielder, probably 10 or 11 years old, notices Jimmy and gives him a brief wave. Jimmy raises his pointer finger in acknowledgment and cracks a smile.

Yes, I think we’ve answered the question about Jimmy still loving baseball. 

The Rookie commentary, part 1: ‘What kind of baseball do they have? … They don’t.
The Rookie commentary, part 2: ‘There are more important things in life than baseball’

The Rookie commentary, part 3: ‘Yeah dad, bring the heat!’
The Rookie commentary, part 4: ‘You don’t have dreams, you don’t have anything’
The Rookie commentary, part 5: 'You got your shot at baseball. You got hurt.' 
The Rookie commentary, part 6: 'State! State! State!'
The Rookie commentary, part 7: 'It's your turn, coach'
The Rookie commentary, part 8: 'You just threw 98 mph'
The Rookie commentary, part 9: ‘Do you know how many guys can throw the ball 98 mph?’
The Rookie commentary, part 10: 'What are we telling him if you don't try now?'
The Rookie commentary, part 11: 'I'm the old guy'

The Rookie commentary, part 11: ‘I’m the old guy’

For some reason, the next scene opens up with kids in a bounce house. It’s odd until the camera pans out and shows that it’s part of the festivities outside a stadium. The graphics on the screen announce it’s Orlando in the AA Southern League. Baseball fans are filling up on hot dogs and games before the main event – a baseball games – starts.

Jimmy walks into the locker room, zigging and zagging his way around players much younger than him. One player sitting on a bench removes his headphones (the ones from the 90s, not earbuds or AirPods) and asks if Jimmy is the old guy. “I’m the old guy,” says Jimmy, embracing the role.

Playing for the Orlando Rays, a minor-league affiliate of the Devil Rays, Jimmy wears a No. 9 jersey as he warms up in the bullpen, located down the first baseline in front of the stands in the outfield. Fans, also noticing his age, start heckling him. One probably-not-sober-fellow asks if he uses a walker to get to the mound. Another can be heard asking if Jimmy came up with the Senators. Then there’s this gem: “Hey skipper, I didn’t know it was bring your dad to work night.”

Let’s go over something here. Double-A ball is still two steps away from the major leagues. So even though Jimmy was in his mid-30s at the time, which is still relatively young in life and not at all unheard of for players in the big leagues, it’s definitely rare for someone his age to be stuck in the minors. Obviously, the scouts couldn’t just send Jimmy immediately to the Bigs, even with that 98-mph fastball.

Rough first outing
Back to the game, Jimmy gets the call to go in. Although he’s first introduced as Johnny Morris. I’d love to know if that mistake actually happened somewhere along the way in his minor-league career. When he gets to the mound, after first tripping over monster trucks near first base as part of a fan in-stadium gimmick, the manager hands him the ball and tells him to work fast because they have a long bus trip.

Fans are shown in the stands having a good time, dancing to the music as Jimmy warms up. When he starts pitching, he lets a wild one sail above the batter at home plate and hit the protective netting behind the plate. The fans immediately let Jimmy have it, booing and heckling him hard.

This screams movie-bit to me. I get that the intent in the movie is to put doubt into the audience's minds that Jimmy isn’t that good or he’ll be too nervous in the clutch or whatever. But these are fans at a minor-league ball game watching a brand-new pitcher. “Old” or not, they’re not going to let the guy have it like that.

We don’t know the outcome of the game, and it really doesn’t matter, but apparently, Jimmy had a rough go, telling Lorri on the phone later that he let a few of the pitches get away from him.

On to triple-A in the minor-league life
On the charter bus that night, because the minor-league life is not one of luxury, Jimmy sits alone staring out the window. The movie flashes back to teenage Jimmy staring out the window of the station wagon as the family is driving to its final destination in Texas. We also see him throwing the baseball against the fence, with the raindrops bouncing off the chain links as the ball makes contact.

That scene weaves back to the present with Jimmy blowing away hitters, showing the swings-and-misses consecutively. Somewhere in this sequence, Jimmy moves from double-A to triple-A ball, as the screen graphics note with the location: Durham, NC, AAA International League.

Still living that minor-league road life, Jimmy stands in a phone booth in the parking lot of a motel talking to Hunter and asking him the solution for 4x4. Hunter guesses 17, and dad calls him out for guessing and instructs him to “add it up.” Hunter is successful this time, while Jimmy receives an impatient knock on the phone-booth door as the “hurry up” signal.

Not wanting to talk about math anymore (I don’t blame ya, kid.), Hunter asks his dad if he’s made it to the big leagues yet. Jimmy, probably exhausted and frustrated with however long it’s been and he hasn’t gotten the call-up, completely ducks the question and asks Hunter to put his mom on the phone.

Jimmy wants a report on the home front, and Lorri tells him they’re a little behind money-wise. Baseball aside, being away from his family and the money issues are stressing him out. He says he’s tired, they say their “I love yous” and end the call.

He encounters a line of teammates when he exits the booth, prompting one of the outspoken fellas to explain to Jimmy that this is the only long-distance phone they have access to and he should put a time limit on his calls if someone is waiting. Jimmy doesn’t respond, so the player takes the opportunity to give him some jabs about how he’s all talked out from being on the phone with his girlfriend. That gets Jimmy’s attention; he replies that his son needed help with his homework.

Jimmy draws media attention
At batting practice on a sunny day, a TV reporter shows up and gets Jimmy called over to the sideline from the outfield. A young-stud hitter in the box, who seems pretty pleased with his cuts, is obviously annoyed that he’s not getting any love from reporters.

“You believe that? I go 4-for-5 last night, look where they got the camera.”

Then there are a couple of more comments from other teammates about how Jimmy should retire, because he’s certainly old enough etc. What are we seeing here? Yes, that’s resentment from some of the other players to put a conflict out there. It wouldn’t be unheard of, I suppose. These young players are likely just starting out, trying to get their careers off the ground, and then this “old guy” comes along and steals their thunder? Let’s put a pin in this one for later, too. 

The Rookie commentary, part 1: ‘What kind of baseball do they have? … They don’t.
The Rookie commentary, part 2: ‘There are more important things in life than baseball’

The Rookie commentary, part 3: ‘Yeah dad, bring the heat!’
The Rookie commentary, part 4: ‘You don’t have dreams, you don’t have anything’
The Rookie commentary, part 5: 'You got your shot at baseball. You got hurt.' 
The Rookie commentary, part 6: 'State! State! State!'
The Rookie commentary, part 7: 'It's your turn, coach'
The Rookie commentary, part 8: 'You just threw 98 mph'
The Rookie commentary, part 9: ‘Do you know how many guys can throw the ball 98 mph?’
The Rookie commentary, part 10: 'What are we telling him if you don't try now?'

The Rookie commentary, part 10: ‘What are we telling him if you don’t try now?’

In the next scene, Jimmy is back at his father’s house, sitting in his truck and staring into the darkness as if trying to figure out if he wants to go in. Jimmy ends up wandering in the yard and declines an invitation to come in the house when his dad sees him.

Because Jimmy and his dad still apparently don’t talk about things, the old man opens up the conversation by saying Lorri called him and “guess the scouts saw what they wanted to see.” That’s the way of telling the audience that things went well and now Jimmy has a decision to make regarding if he should head out and away from his family so he can go give this baseball thing a try again.

He’s at a crossroads. He’s not sure what to do. And even with the tumultuous relationship, he still ended up at his dad’s place for advice. Dad first fouls one off with a “give it some time” approach, which is something Jimmy says he doesn’t have. Then dad goes for the belt.

“Your grandfather once told me ‘it’s OK to think about what you want to do until it was time to start doing what you were meant to do.’ That may not be what you wanted to hear.”

Goodnight.

The blow-up continues on the home front
Quick-cut to Jimmy unleashing his fury for his dad back at home talking to Lorri: “I swear, sometimes I think he lies in bed at night just figuring out the one thing that he can say that hurts the most.” After all the awkward scenes with Jimmy the teenager and the tension in their father-son relationship, this is really the first time we see it boiling over for Jimmy, the anger he’s built up.

Jimmy hoped that this time, his dad was going to come through with some good advice. Now it’s Lorri’s turn to respond with an icy “maybe he did.” Yes, it’s time to recall her earlier, unconvincing happiness about Jimmy’s 98-mph fastball from his tryout.

Lorri goes into the list of reasons why she has reservations about her husband taking off to go play ball again. He has a family to support, a great job waiting in Fort Worth (which feels like it’s just a movie-chip pawn sometimes), and she tells him that he’s losing sight of all of those important things. “You can’t eat dreams, Jimmy,” she says, in reference to him needing to bring in some dough.

The gloves really come off when Lorri says she had the front-row seat to Jimmy’s pitching career the last time, especially when he got hurt and shut himself off from the rest of the world and from her. That dagger? “Truth is, I was happy when you quit.” 

But she does make some good points, and she also doesn’t want to see him get hurt again. It’s not worth the risk to her.

I have no idea if real-life Jimmy and his wife had these debates about whether he should give this a shot or not. I would imagine there were certainly discussions. Though this dramatic fight does scream “movie bit.”

Then they make-up
The dust settles and Lorri tucks in a sleeping Hunter. His walls are decorated with baseball cards, cutouts of ballplayers, even a photo of his dad on the mound. She gazes at all of it as she pulls the blankets close to her son. Her own wheels are turning in her head. She’s obviously going to change her mind, because we don’t come this far into the movie for Jimmy to put the brakes on and finish up teaching science in Fort Worth.

The husband and wife apologize to each other on the porch, each knowing the earlier conversation got too heated. Naturally, they each flip their positions, Lorri telling him to play and Jimmy saying she was right on her counterpoints.

But it’s Lorri who delivers the speech that tugs at the heartstrings. She mentions Hunter, their 8-year-old boy who waited in the rain all day to see his daddy pitch.

“What are we telling him if you don’t try now?”

So, I guess Jimmy going for it is all to Hunter’s credit? It’s obvious that Jimmy’s passion for baseball was injected into his son’s veins, too.

Time to hit the road
Still, Jimmy is hesitant, noting he can’t leave his wife with the sole responsibilities that come with three young children, bills to pay and a house to keep. She’s prepared though, telling him she’s a Texas woman who doesn’t need a man to keep things running. Score a point for the independent women!

Whether it’s the next morning or soon after, Jimmy is up early, dressed with an overnight bag slung over his right shoulder as he kisses his sleeping daughters goodbye in their shared bedroom. He stops in Hunter’s room as well, adding a “see you soon, little man” to his kiss on the head.

Lorri is waiting in the hall, and they embrace in a hug, gripping each other tightly, in a way meant for hugs of a person leaving for a while. 

The Rookie commentary, part 1: ‘What kind of baseball do they have? … They don’t.
The Rookie commentary, part 2: ‘There are more important things in life than baseball’

The Rookie commentary, part 3: ‘Yeah dad, bring the heat!’
The Rookie commentary, part 4: ‘You don’t have dreams, you don’t have anything’
The Rookie commentary, part 5: 'You got your shot at baseball. You got hurt.' 
The Rookie commentary, part 6: 'State! State! State!'
The Rookie commentary, part 7: 'It's your turn, coach'
The Rookie commentary, part 8: 'You just threw 98 mph'
The Rookie commentary, part 9: ‘Do you know how many guys can throw the ball 98 mph?’

The Rookie commentary, part 9: ‘Do you know how many guys can throw the ball 98 mph?’

Lorri arrives home at the end of the day juggling a pair of grocery bags, kicks off her shoes and checks the answering machine. (If you grew up owning a smartphone from birth, please turn to the nearest Millennial or Boomer to ask about answering machines.) One of the messages is Jimmy calling the house to tell his wife not to fix dinner because they’re picking up pizza. That’s your second reminder in this scene alone that this was during a time before texting and cellphones attached to everyone’s hand.

There were a couple of other messages on the machine though. In what’s a really fast turnaround, some baseball scouts and representatives with the Tampa Bay Devil Rays left messages for Jimmy. Lorri, of course, is a little confused. Remember, she didn’t know anything about Jimmy’s tryout.

Then cute little Jessica runs into the kitchen with a gleeful “Mommy!” greeting and unloads some pizza boxes from her hands. “Daddy told me to give you the pizza and not say anything else.” Kids can be so literal and forthcoming, right?

It’s clear they won’t be able to keep the secret of where they’ve been all day, so Jimmy offers a “go ahead” as Hunter and Jessica start filling their mom in on the baseball-tryout excursion. Among other things, Hunter talked about how hot it was (I mean, yeah, you’re in Texas, right?) and getting sunburned.

Husband and wife talk it over
Jimmy’s clearing the table post-pizza when he tells Lorri his own version of events, starting with the scout’s reaction: “The guy thought that the damn radar gun was broken. Do you know how many guys can throw the ball 98 mph?”

“Not many,” Lorri slyly responds.

“You can count ‘em on one hand,” Jimmy says. “I still don’t believe it. Those are Major-League scouts on our message machine.”

Feeling left out, Lorri wonders why her husband didn’t tell her about the tryout. Why the big secret? It does seem strange, especially since he thought it wouldn’t amount to anything. But I guess that’s maybe the reason right there. I do find it interesting that he went the whole baseball season without it coming out though. Didn’t she inquire as to why this one-win high school team suddenly struck gold and couldn’t lose? You’d think she’d at least be curious.

Jimmy again brushes it off, saying it was just this thing to get his players to start playing. He even says here that he thought he’d throw a few pitches and that would be it. Turning serious, Lorri wants to know if he’s considering taking this process further than just a “thing” with his players.

For the first time, we see Jimmy start to take this potential career switch seriously, too. It’s almost like what the scout said about having to call in the 98-mph fastball. You have to give it a shot, right? Plus, Jimmy said he never threw that hard in his earlier playing days.

There’s some brief tension as he notes how Lorri doesn’t seem excited about this, but she quickly – and unconvincingly – brushes that off and says she is. Remember this for later.

You can see the baseball-passion wheels turning
Jimmy shuffles through the house later that night, doing the usual checks like shutting off lights and making sure the front door is locked. The television is on, and it’s showing an MLB game with a relief pitcher jogging in from the bullpen. If Jimmy wasn’t considering his return to pitching, the wheels start turning here as he pauses to stare at the pitcher on TV.

Sure enough, he followed up with those phone calls on the “message machine.” It’s pouring rain at a ball field. Jimmy stands in soaked gray sweatpants with a white-and-yellow jersey shirt and that same Jiffy Lube hat on a pitcher’s mound. His left foot moves back and forth against the muddy rubber as he tries to gain traction. Hunter, his own personal mascot, is dressed in rain gear and gripping the chain-link fence watching his dad.

Meanwhile, four baseball scouts are armed with radar guns to see if Jimmy’s first effort was a complete fluke. Nope. The audience sees the gun this time, registering 97 mph. Same for the next pitch. Scout Patterson offers a “So much for his arm falling off, huh?” to the other scouts, who were probably pretty skeptical unless they saw Jimmy pitch the first time. For good measure, Jimmy cracks 98 mph on the radar gun. 

The Rookie commentary, part 1: ‘What kind of baseball do they have? … They don’t.
The Rookie commentary, part 2: ‘There are more important things in life than baseball’

The Rookie commentary, part 3: ‘Yeah dad, bring the heat!’
The Rookie commentary, part 4: ‘You don’t have dreams, you don’t have anything’
The Rookie commentary, part 5: 'You got your shot at baseball. You got hurt.' 
The Rookie commentary, part 6: 'State! State! State!'
The Rookie commentary, part 7: 'It's your turn, coach'
The Rookie commentary, part 8: 'You just threw 98 mph'

The Rookie commentary, part 8: ‘You just threw 98 mph’

The Morris family is seated at the breakfast table one morning. Jimmy is feeding the baby and engaging in a conversation with Hunter and Jessica about Captain Crunch. Lorri is bustling about before heading out the door for the day. Jimmy tells her he has nothing going on, although he then tells Hunter to “remind me not to forget Jamie (the baby) if we go anywhere.”

Next thing we know, we can assume Jimmy is headed to this baseball tryout to live up to his end of the bargain with his team. The pickup cruises past a road sign for San Angelo 97 miles away.

Jimmy and his kids show up at baseball tryouts and – shocker – most of the players jogging around the baseball field are young studs. Seeing this, Jimmy looks reluctant but pushes the baby’s stroller toward the registration table anyway. One of the scouts, Dave Patterson, recognizes Jimmy right away. For the viewer’s benefit, Patterson mentions that he saw Jimmy when the Brewers drafted him back in the day. The scout assumes Jimmy is there to bring some of his players for the tryout.

“I’m here for me,” Jimmy says.

Awkward… “Well, all right then,” the scout responds.

Jimmy waits for the scouts to take a look
To set the scene, it’s time for another musical montage as the players take part in various batting and fielding drills on the field. Meanwhile, Jimmy sits and plays tic-tac-toe with Jessica, via a coloring book resting on top of their cooler on the grass.

Later, he’s still waiting to get the call and is in the middle of changing the baby’s diaper in the back of the pickup. Hunter points out that it’s the last diaper they brought, but Jimmy is way ahead of him, saying they’re going to hit the road. Jimmy tells a disappointed Hunter that there’s nothing he can do if the scouts won’t even take a look at him.

So, of course, the scout calls Jimmy over and says he’s up. Shocked they’re giving him a chance, Jimmy scrambles to get the baby settled, puts Hunter in charge of his sisters and says he’ll be right back.

Jimmy heads to the pitching mound, wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt. Yes, the traditional Jiffy Lube hat is still there. I wonder how much the company paid to get that much screen time in the movie?

Shooting his shot
He decides to go ahead without any warm-up, and the scout says “don’t hurt yourself.” Jimmy takes his traditional stance on the mound, moving his foot back and forth to kick the dirt away. Holding the baseball low behind his back, he shakes it around before raising it to his glove and eventually firing a pitch into the catcher’s mitt. Cue up that country-twang music.

Jimmy goes to work, bringing the heat with a sequence of pitches, complete with those same “whooshing” sound effects on the throws and ending with the “smack” of the catcher’s mitt. The scouts glance at their radar guns, but the audience and Jimmy don’t have a read on the speed just yet. Unsure of where he stands – and probably thinking he’s throwing grapefruits up there – Jimmy asks if he should keep going. The scout asks for a couple more.

After a bunch of pitches, including one in slow motion showing Jimmy’s focused, deadlocked eyes demonstrating his concentration once again, the scout says that’s good.

Jimmy quickly leaves the mound. He must be thinking this is the end of the line, really. He tried out, he kept his promise to his players, that’s it. But the catcher jogs over and offers up his two cents, for what they’re worth.

“Pitch, pitch. Man, you were bringing some heat out there. You got ‘em talking.”

He threw how fast?
Jimmy immediately puts his dad hat back on (although really, the Jiffy Lube cap never left) and strolls over to a metal garbage can to throw away a dirty diaper. Scout Patterson comes over and casually asks Jimmy how fast he threw the baseball back in his prime. Eighty-five, 86-mph, Jimmy replies. Then Patterson drops the bombshell.

“You just threw 98 mph.”

Skeptical is an understatement for Jimmy’s reaction here. He’s not buying this pity for a second. But Patterson says three radar guns on a dozen straight pitches all showed the same thing. Then we get a little scouting lesson, although it’s really not rocket science: Rule No. 1 is that pitching arms slow down with age. Mind blown on that one.

Patterson outlines the dilemma about the next step here. If he calls his higher-ups about a guy twice the age of the rest of the players, he’s going to get laughed at. On the other hand, “if I don’t call in a 98-mph fastball, I’m going to get fired.” Basically, Patterson lets Jimmy know he might get a callback.

The Rookie commentary, part 1: ‘What kind of baseball do they have? … They don’t.
The Rookie commentary, part 2: ‘There are more important things in life than baseball’

The Rookie commentary, part 3: ‘Yeah dad, bring the heat!’
The Rookie commentary, part 4: ‘You don’t have dreams, you don’t have anything’
The Rookie commentary, part 5: 'You got your shot at baseball. You got hurt.' 
The Rookie commentary, part 6: 'State! State! State!'
The Rookie commentary, part 7: 'It's your turn, coach'

The Rookie commentary, part 7: ‘It’s your turn, coach’

The Owls, one-by-one, grab their ball gloves off the bench from the dugout. Coach Morris tries to offer up some encouragement. “We’re a different team than the last time we played these guys.” Then he says there’s nothing to be nervous about in a way that shows he’s clearly trying to convince himself more than his players.

Game action starts with an opposing run coming across the plate and the Owls catcher motioning for his teammates to settle down after getting into “an early hole” of 2-0.

As the Owls grab the bats for the bottom of the 1st inning, the coach throws a couple of clichés at them, like one swing at a time, one hit at a time and one run at a time. They’re only down 2-0, but he’s acting like it’s a Mount Everest-like deficit. I guess these guys in their 20s on the other side are pretty good ballplayers.

Hanging in there
A groundout is a representative to show the Owls did not tie the game or take the lead in the 1st inning. Then it’s time for some game action with the soundtrack in the background to speed our way through the game.

Later, Rudy is at the plate with a runner on third base and the Owls still down 2-0. Jimmy, coaching at third base, provides the baseball sign to his hitter. Sure enough, he put the squeeze on, and the runner is safe at home plate on the suicide squeeze bunt to cut the deficit in half, 2-1.

Back in the field, the same big hitter from the early-season game smashes a ball to a deep part of the park. But the Owl outfielder catches the ball right at the fence. The ball hit the top of the chain link, bounces back into play and the outfielder grabs it with his bare hand before it hits the ground.

“And the owls are hanging in there,” says the PA announcer.

Time to rally
We’re into the late innings now, because the Owls are all standing up in the dugout with rally caps on. They’re cheering on Wack at the plate with a couple of runners on. The mouthy Wack comes through with the RBI knock to tie the score, 2-2. Jimmy gives runner Joe David a very obvious stop sign with both hands at third base, but for some reason, Joe David runs through it and slides home. He’s safe for a 3-2 Owls lead.

One more half inning to hold the one-run lead, and the Owls will complete their comeback season. The bases aren’t juiced, but Rudy is pitching with two on and a full count as tensions mount. Ball four. OK, now the bases are full of Wombats. I’ll give you one guess who’s up. Did you say that same big hitter? You win. We hear from the PA announcer that he was last year’s district MVP. Because of course he was.

Rudy is rattled and throws ball one high and tight, causing the big man to jump back. The count goes to 1-1, and then he gets ahold of a pitch, hitting it over the fence… but just foul. “Let me tell ya folks, they don’t make foul balls any scarier than that one,” says the PA guy.

With the count 1-2 and one strike away from the victory, Rudy’s teammates pump up the chatter across the diamond. “He can’t hit you!” and “Dig deep, Rudy!” can be heard. He delivers a pitch for a swing-and-a-miss strikeout, sealing the win and the district championship.

As the Owls start the celly on the field with the traditional dogpile, PA man is shouting “Owls win! Owls win! Owls win!” I’m not sure why we need a dedication to Harry Caray and his “Cubs win!” tradition here, but we get it anyway.

In a move I’ve seen many veteran coaches make over the years of coaching youth championships, Jimmy Morris stands back from the pile of players on the mound and claps his hands for his players’ efforts, complete with a giant smile across his face.

‘It’s your turn, coach’
The celebration continues into the locker room as the Owls are dancing and bopping around in their dirty, sweaty uniforms as the song “Jump around” blasts on a stereo. Things simmer down, and Rudy takes command with a toast to their coach, “to the man who taught us about wanting something more.” Rudy presents coach with the game ball signed by all the players and, making good on the bet, says “now it’s your turn, coach.”


via GIPHY

The entire team forms a line and shakes Jimmy’s hand, each saying “it’s your turn, coach.”

Later, Jimmy takes down his collection of newspaper clippings from his bulletin board. There’s a new clip though, about a baseball tryout with that same moniker written in orange marker across the story: “It’s your turn, coach.” 

The Rookie commentary, part 1: ‘What kind of baseball do they have? … They don’t.
The Rookie commentary, part 2: ‘There are more important things in life than baseball’

The Rookie commentary, part 3: ‘Yeah dad, bring the heat!’
The Rookie commentary, part 4: ‘You don’t have dreams, you don’t have anything’
The Rookie commentary, part 5: 'You got your shot at baseball. You got hurt.' 
The Rookie commentary, part 6: 'State! State! State!'