At the NFL Draft, general manager Sonny Weaver has the opportunity to rebuild his team when he trades for the number one pick. He must decide what he's willing to sacrifice on a life-changing day for a few hundred young men with NFL dreams.
A high school swim champion with a troubled past enrolls in the U.S. Coast Guard's "A" School, where legendary rescue swimmer Ben Randall teaches him some hard lessons about loss, love, and self-sacrifice.
In a future where the polar ice-caps have melted and Earth is almost entirely submerged, a mutated mariner fights starvation and outlaw "smokers," and reluctantly helps a woman and a young girl try to find dry land.
A Detroit pitcher Billy Chapel, reflects on his life in major league baseball, after he finds out his girlfriend moves to London for a job. Thus forcing the ball player to analyze his life and how his career as a player, and his life without her will change, thus altering his priorities between his career winding to a close, choosing what his path will be, the love of baseball or the love of his life? Written by
The shots of Billy Chapel's parents at the beginning of the movie are Kevin Costner's actual parents. See more »
Billy Chapel would not be able to be traded to the Giants. He could invoke the 5/10 Rule whereby players who have been with a club for at least 5 consecutive years and have been a major league player for at least 10 years cannot be traded without their consent. However it is mentioned that he will be a free agent at the end of the year, at which time the new ownership can simply choose not to re-sign him to a contract with the Tigers. See more »
It's never quite how you play it in your head.
What about the whole deal thing?
You know, you do what you do, I do what I do.
You believed that? I was lying. I was trying to be the man. And I was doing a damn good job of it until you invited me down here. You were right. I was afraid. I was afraid you were gonna break my heart into 1,000 pieces.
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Even If You Hate Baseball -- and Kevin Costner -- This Movie Still Rocks!
Why do I love this movie so much? I'm not a baseball fan. I didn't really like FIELD OF DREAMS. And I hated BULL DURHAM. Yet this movie just captivates me every time I watch it.
Part of it is the tight, real-time structure -- the whole movie takes place in a man's head while he pitches a perfect baseball game on the mound. It therefore combines the tension of a thriller with the poignant emotions of an elegy.
But what I loved most about this movie is that there are no clichés. Kevin Costner's character, Billy Chapel, is not a "sports underdog." It's very clear he is a great athlete who has had a great career, and that he can walk away at any time with lots of money and lots of respect. The only reason that pitching the perfect game matters to him is purely for the perfection of his art -- for the love of the game.
At the same time, not all the action is on the baseball diamond. In the romantic drama, Kevin Costner does much more than play the usual Costner "nice guy." Billy Chapel can be cold, egocentric, and difficult -- just like any other creative artist. But he always surrounds himself with people who are strong enough to challenge him and help him stay grounded. It's no exaggeration to say that the supporting cast in this film -- John C. Reilly as the catcher, Kelly Preston as the girl friend, and Jena Malone as the girl friend's adorable teenage daughter -- are very much the stars. They really set Costner up for an unusually mature, disciplined performance. Just the way Chapel's team mates set him up for the perfect game! This movie wasn't that well received by the critics. I remember one frightfully cultured fellow at the NEW YORKER sniffing that Costner's character is "arrogant." Note well that if an artist or an intellectual is cold and demanding, it's okay. But athletes should be jolly, ape like simpletons, the kind who know their place. This complex, poignant movie is actually quite subversive, since it forces you to realize that baseball is a thinking man's game and that athletes (and their working class fans) are not nearly as stupid as the real simpletons who write for the NEW YORKER.
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