About Profanity and Basketball
Post 587:
I recently put the question to my buddies: “What is the greatest sports movie of all time?” I went in with the notion that Hoosiers is the unquestionable and logical choice, but I was moved after a thousand or so text messages into changing my mind. Field of Dreams is number one. Of course it’s a subjective thing. But it’s number one. Reason? Because. And because if it takes heaven and earth shifting to get a catch with your dad, so be it. And… because it highlights that baseball movies simply aren’t that good without overtones and undercurrents of spirituality and the supernatural. But seriously. What is the deal with that? So shout out to all my boys. Some of the funniest crap I’ve heard in a spell.
All that said, I’m still going to bang on about Hoosiers. It’s streamlined, and just about perfect. The only thing that takes me out of complete Immersionville is the cheeseball eighties musical score constantly clogging up my ear holes. Nothing against eighties scores, but they don’t translate with the fifties Indiana nowhere town setting. It’s almost charming, one could argue, but that would be for your non-nitpicking windbag types. I’m the other type. Huge windbag.
I want to hit on one specific line in the film, but first let me point out why it’s so frigging great. It takes the David and Goliath story and plays it just right. Everyone wants to see the overlooked get a look. Everyone wants to see the mightiest fall from the smallest of stones. It’s classic. David’s epic victory is a standout story in the Bible, a book that has a few other notable tales for competition. Maybe you’ve heard. So. Some iconic moments in Hoosiers. The coach imposing his will even at the cost of winning. Four passes, right? The part where they go to the big city and measure the height of the rim and the distance to the foul line. Hardly any dialogue and so powerful. The message that anyone can rise to the occasion is cool. Yeah, maybe it’s not totally realistic, but realism is a life sentence. Give us a break once in a while. I will watch the slow clap scene with with a smile on my face before every sporting event ever. For the rest of my life. Dude. Let’s get hype.
Shooter, played by Dennis Hopper, is the town drunk and the father of one of the basketball players. He falls victim to his addiction but tries to fight it at various stages in the story. Upon the eve of the state championship, he tells his kid to “kick their butt.” Usually this line would upset me in my stomach region. I don’t like that phrase. I prefer saltier sentiments. To be honest, I’m a huge fan of profanity. I like to have at least one or two curse-laced diatribes per day, and that’s if things are going swimmingly. My writing isn’t exactly made for kids, either. I’m not a weirdo or anything, but the real world is full of people saying horrible and often ridiculous things. Hilarious things. Stories shouldn’t hide from being realistic. So… here we got Shooter drying out in the place where people dried out in the old days, and all he’s got is, “Kick their butt?”
That’s right. And it’s more than enough. Because that’s the time and the place and it feels real. Shooter isn’t a bad guy. He’s had a rough time and a rough life and he feels real shame at what he’s put his kid through. The man’s fighting tears. The son’s fighting tears. I’m the only one actually crying. Yeah. It’s totally in keeping with his character to relay this message in this exact way. There’s a complex thing going on between a father and his son and what could be corny is extremely deep and emotional. Greatness.
Does this mean you should stay away from profanity? Please don’t. Some of the greatest lines ever are punctuated by words that you probably wouldn’t say around the town preacher. It’s smart not to lean too heavily on it, though. Or anything. Stop with the leaning. (Sorry Bill Withers) It’s all context. Yeah, obvious sauce, I know, but go back and watch that scene in Hoosiers and see how it works in the landscape of the entire film. There’s something profound about the impact that a seemingly innocuous and tame line of dialogue can have. Go on then.
Anyway, my neighbors are being loud and I have to go cuss them out. I’m a wild man. I may even slip a strongly-worded note under the door. I ain’t playing around. To whom it may concern, cheers and see you after.
