Due to a class action lawsuit brought against the exclusive North Valley League, the current baseball season will entail seven teams instead of the customary six. City Councilman Whitewood (Ben Piazza -- who is second only to William Atherton at playing bureaucratic weasels) was responsible for the lawsuit, and we assume his intentions were pragmatic but one has to wonder if it was the only way to get his son, Toby, into the league. Too busy to coach the team himself, Whitewood turns the team over to Morris "Boilermaker" Buttermaker (Walter Matthau), an alcoholic pool cleaner who used to play organized ball a long time ago. A very long time ago, judging by the looks of him. When the new manager arrives at the ballpark to get his equipment, he gets an earful from Roy Turner (Vic Morrow), the coach of the defending champion Yankees, and Cleveland (Joyce Van Patten), the equipment manager. Both are snarky and belligerent for being forced to accommodate the new Bears team. Doing his best to ignore them, Buttermaker meets his new team:

Engleberg, his overweight catcher, keeps getting chocolate all over the ball. His bespectacled pitcher, Rudi Stein, can't get it over the plate. His ill-tempered and foul-mouthed short-stop, Tanner, can't catch. At third base, Reggie is terrified of the ball, and his second baseman, Jimmy, is a dead ringer for Harpo Marx. And while his left fielder, Ogilve, is a fount of baseball knowledge, when not sucking on his inhaler, in center, Ahmad wants to be like Hank Aaron but swings with his eyes closed. And his right fielder, Timmy Lupus, is described as nothing but "a booger eating moron." The team is rounded out by a couple of Spanish kids, Jose and Miguel, who can't speak English.

So, Buttermaker isn't much of a manager but his players look up to him with awe and listen to his stories of how he once struck out Ted Williams in a spring training game (-- a story that gets better after each beer.) Buttermaker explains that he never got to the majors due to "contract disputes" and not for a lack of talent. Then, the last practice before opening day, Buttermaker gets bombed, falls off the pitcher's mound and passes out. Gathering around him, they all admit, drunk or sober, with this guy in charge, the team is doomed.

Opening Day arrives with much pomp and circumstance. Buttermaker arrives late, with his bucket of beer, and almost misses the team picture. The ceremonies end and the Bears open the season with a game against Turner's Yankees. Between cans of beer, Buttermaker watches as his team is burned for twenty runs in the first inning without even recording an out. When Tanner wipes out trying to make a catch, Buttermaker checks on him but his shortstop angrily tells him to just go back to his beer. Calling for time-out, Buttermaker asks Turner to call off his team a bit. Turner refuses, saying the game will be called off in fifteen minutes anyway on the ten-run mercy-rule. Buttermaker threatens to forfeit but Turner warns him not to, for the kids sake; not wanting them to look like quitters. He then let's Buttermaker have it about the Bear's embarrassing performance. Ignoring him, Buttermaker turns to the umpire and forfeits the game.

Humiliated, his players return to the bench but don't want to hear his post-game speech and quietly disperse...

"What's the matter with you? All season long you've been laughed at! Crapped on! Now you got a chance to spit it back in their faces! So what do you do? You're out there like a bunch of dead fish!; not listening, bonehead plays, mistakes...I mean, don't you wanna beat those bastards?!"

Ah, the immortal words of one enraged Morris Buttermaker; a washed up, pool-cleaning, beer-guzzling ex-minor league pitcher turned little league coach: one of the many colorful characters in Michael Ritchie’s ode to little league baseball The Bad News Bears. This is probably my favorite Matthau film of all time, and one of the greatest films about sports ever made.

A surprise, sleeper hit in the summer of '76, people, including a little Beerman, flocked to the theater to watch the funny exploits of this foul-mouthed team of misfits as everyone could identify with at least one of them. There’s the fat kid, a Jewish kid, a black kid, two Hispanic kids, a nerd, a geek, and Tanner Boyle -- the ultimate potty-mouth (and the shortest of short-stops in stature and temper.)

After the humbling defeat, Whitewood decides to abandon his lawsuit and disband the team. Leaving it to Buttermaker to break it to the kids, when he arrives at the field for practice, he sees that the players have already voted to quit and are ready to turn in their uniforms. They took a lot of razzing at school and only Tanner, who took on the whole seventh grade, still wants to play ball. Taking encouragement from his feisty shortstop, Buttermaker decides the only vote around here that counts is his and chases everyone out on to the field for practice. He puts the booze aside and they start working on the fundamentals. 

Practices go better but the Bears still can't pitch or hit very well and lose their second game. Salvation comes when Buttermaker brings in Amanda (Tatum O'Neal), the daughter of a former romantic acquaintance, who he taught to pitch. She learned a few other things from Buttermaker, as well, and will only pitch for the Bears after he sweetens the pot with a few bribes. And although Amanda's arsenal of pitches, including a few illegal spitballs (another trick Buttermaker taught her) shuts the opposing teams down, you can't win if you don't score. Then, the other piece to the Bear's puzzle falls in to place when local thug, Kelly Leak (Jackie Earle Haley), who had been hanging around the field terrorizing Cleveland and Turner with his AMF Harley, agrees to play for the Bears and proceeds to start hammering balls out of the park.

Despite a team rebellion on league rules about wearing athletic supporters and nut-cups (-- Amanda refuses to wear one, Tanner claims his isn't big enough while Miguel claims wearing one is a sin), armed with these ringers, the Bears go on a roll and start moving up in the standings. While the Bears enjoy their newfound success, unfortunately, the success is going right to their manager's head. Needing one more victory to qualify for the championship game and a rematch with the dreaded Yankees, and another shot at Turner (affectionately dubbed Puss-head), Buttermaker, not trusting his other players, quietly pulls Kelly aside and orders him to make as many plays as he can. Kelly obeys and cuts in front of his teammates on several fly balls. As the other Bears get on him for being a ball hog, in the top of the last inning, up by one, Kelly pulls up on a fly ball to left and lets Stein take it. Stein promptly gacks it allowing the tying run to score. After the third out, Buttermaker rails on Kelly for not obeying orders, and the manager grows more enraged when Kelly doesn't swing at the first two pitches and threatens to bench him. 

Kelly puts the next ball over the fence but no one feels like celebrating the win except Buttermaker. In the dugout, after everyone leaves, Buttermaker ices Amanda's arm in his beer cooler. Amanda offers that she invited her mom to the game and hints at a possible reconciliation. But Buttermaker flies off the handle, saying there's no way in hell that could happen, sending Amanda away in tears, leaving him alone in the dugout with only his thoughts and his beer.

The day of the championship game arrives and a brawl erupts during warm-ups between Kelly and Tanner. Buttermaker breaks it up. Due to the ball-hogging, the others don't want to play with Kelly anymore. Kelly offers to quit but Buttermaker won't let him and reveals that he told his star player to cover for them. The Bears are shocked but Buttermaker claims it was worth it because they made the championship game and they should be happy. Right?

Several incidents with Yankee players off the field, mostly involving Turner's son, Joey (Brandon Cruz), picking on Lupus and Tanner during the season, promises a heated contest. The Yankees score first when Amanda covers home plate and takes a high spike to the chest and drops the ball. This triggers a bench clearing brawl, and while Kelly and Tanner open a can of whupass on the Yankees, Buttermaker warns Turner to lay off the cheap shots. Turner denies it, claiming it's all part of the game. The umpire restores order and the game continues, but Buttermaker and Turner's clash of egos continues as they berate their players for every mistake made. As the game progresses, Turner refuses to pitch to Kelly and intentionally walks him every time he comes to the plate. So, down by two, with Kelly on first, Buttermaker tells Stein to lean into a pitch and get hit on purpose. Reluctantly, Stein manages to get hit and Engleberg follows with a ground rule double, scoring Kelly. Stein scores next on a sac fly when the Yankee outfielder forgets who many outs their are, drawing the wrath of his coach.

Now tied, when the Bears come up to bat again, it's obvious that Amanda hurt her pitching arm in the earlier collision, but she refuses to come out of the game. And Buttermaker won't force her, knowing full well that she could ruin her arm, because the game needs to be won. 

Kelly gets another free pass, so Buttermaker tells Stein to take another hit for the team. Stein protests as he heads to the plate, saying it hurts too much, and ignores his coach, swings away, and flies out, ending the inning. Buttermaker loses his temper, grabs Stein and throws him in the dugout and tears into his team. They can't win if they don't listen to him but his profanity laced rants draws only horrified blank stares from his players. Luckily, Buttermaker begins to realize what he's become and what he's doing. He ends it by quietly encouraging them to "go out and do the best you can."

In the other dugout, Turner hasn't seen the light and he rides Joey for striking out again, and warns that he'd best pitch better than he's hitting. Several batters later, the Yankees manage to scratch out a run and take the lead back. Then, the game turns really ugly in the bottom half of the inning when Engleberg comes up to bat. After he and Joey exchange more *ahem* pleasantries, Engleberg gives him the old, one finger salute, and then sends a monstrous shot down the line that falls just foul. Turner calls time and orders Joey to walk him. Wanting to strike him out, he objects but Turner says to do it or else. Upset, Joey's next pitch sails in, high and hard, and almost beans Engleberg in the head. Turner can't believe it, and loses his temper so badly, he knocks Joey off the pitcher's mound when he denies trying to hit the batter. 

The crowd watches in silence as Turner makes his way back to the dugout. On the next pitch, Engleberg hits a tapper back to the mound. Joey snags the ball but doesn't throw it to first base. And as Engleberg keeps running, Joey refuses to throw the ball. His teammates try to get it away from him but he manages to hang on to it until Engleberg scores the tying run. After that, Joey walks off the field, drops the ball in front of his father,and then leaves the field to the consoling arms of his mother.

Turner doesn't miss a beat. He sends in a relief pitcher; the game must be won.

It's the last inning, so Buttermaker subs in the rest of his players. As Ogilve, Jose, Miguel and Lupus take the field, Whitewood can't believe it and calls Buttermaker out of the dugout. Claiming he's blowing the game, Buttermaker reminds him that he started this thing so everyone would get a chance to play. He then threatens Whitewood with bodily violence if he doesn't get his butt back to the bleachers, Buttermaker then completes the substitutions by taking Amanda out of the game. She got two quick outs but now the bases are loaded. Amanda heads to left field, and after Stein takes the mound things quickly fall apart. The Yankees score four runs and threaten more with a long fly ball toward Lupus. Every fly ball to Lupus is a Chinese fire drill, and as he circles under the ball, backing up towards the fence, each step, on uncertain feet, threatens a loss of balance and disaster. At the last second, Lupus sticks his glove out over the fence -- and the ball finds its way into it for the final out.

The Bears cheer his good fortune but they're still down by four runs. No problem, says their manager. Stein tries to stretch a single into a double but is thrown out. Buttermaker praises him for his hustle. Amanda's bunt attempt fails, so the Bears last chance is Ogilve. And against all odds, Ogilve draws a walk. Ahmed comes to the plate and calls his shot. But it was all a bluff and he bunts his way on. The diminutive Miguel is up next, but is so short, the pitcher can't find his strike zone and walks him on four pitches, bringing Kelly, the tying run, to the plate. Even though it will force in a run, Turner doesn't take any chances and orders his pitcher to walk him. Kelly takes two balls and looks to the dugout in frustration. Buttermaker gives him the sign to swing away. With the next pitch, Kelly leans out and smacks it into the gap. Caught unaware, the Yankees give chase as the runs come in. One run, two runs, then three, and Kelly rounds third and heads for home and the win, trying to beat the relay throw. It's a close play, but he's out by the slimmest of margins.

While the Yankees celebrate, the Bears sit and watch, dejected, until Buttermaker starts handing out beers to his players saying they should all be damn proud of themselves for what they accomplished. At the award presentation, the Bears take their second place trophy and a half-hearted apology from the Yankees. But Tanner tells them to take the apology, and the trophy, and stick it where the sun don't shine. And Lupus warns them "just wait 'til next year."

The Bears then start showering each other with beer and celebrate with their parents as the camera pans back and we fade to...

The End

One of the ugly things director Ritchie and screenwriter Bill Lancaster tries to bring out in The Bad News Bears is the torture some parents put their kids through to attain some kind of familial satisfaction or glory. I don’t know if they’re just trying to relive their childhood, or maybe correct some childhood mistake or shortcomings, but what I do know for sure is that it can (and it usually does) get a bit nasty and ugly in the bleachers. This action is personified in the opposing coaches, Buttermaker and Turner. Matthau's Buttermaker is a "Could have been." A promising minor league pitcher who’s only career highlight was striking out Ted Williams in a spring training game, now he’s a bitter, alcoholic pool cleaner with no real aspirations. The Bears are his second chance.

Morrow's Turner, I feel, is a "Never was" -- as in "Never was anything but sure acts like he was." He bullies his wife, his son (who, more importantly to him, is his pitcher), and intimidates his team to be as good as he thinks he is. They play dirty for him (high spikes) and relish in running up the score. You get the sense that Turner's greatest life accomplishments must have been made while he played little league, so he spends the rest of his life reliving that and treating the field like a shrine to himself. (He constantly works over the lawn and chases unwanted people off of the diamond.) I don't think Roy Turner is necessarily a bad man, his priorities are just a little skewered.

Now, I usually don’t like this type of film because they're usually populated by the oh-so-cute-till-you-puke but can’t act their way out of a wet paper bag child actors. That is not the case here. The Bears are kids and they act like kids (not little adults.) Obnoxious, awkward, foul-mouthed and chock full of spit and vinegar, they have an energy that helps carry the film and makes it worth repeated viewing.

The Bad News Bears is one of those films that if you haven't seen it uncensored -- or if it's been a long time since you have -- you really need to give this a rental because you're missing half the fun. It's acerbic bite has been lost in syndication and damaged with two watered down sequels, that we'll be reviewing over the next couple of weeks, but I think it deserves its rightful place as one of the greatest sports movies ever made.

What's really sad, though, is when you look at films like this and realize parents have been acting this way for a long time. And it's gotten a lot uglier since 1976. Today, we see all kinds of headlines of riots in the stands at pee-wee football games, and parents beating the snot out of coaches or referees because things didn't go their way. What kind of example are you trying to set, exactly? What's really scary is that some of these confrontations have even turned fatal. It's a frigging game, people. What the hell is the matter with you?!? 

Posted: 10/11/03. Copy and paste at your own legal risk.

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