“When I think about the Mavericks, I don’t really think much about baseball. I think about those guys. I think about those characters, and the fact that they enjoyed themselves more than I’d ever seen grown men enjoy themselves. I remember thinking, I hope I feel that way when I grow up. And that was as profound a guiding light as I would ever get.”
— Writer-Director-Actor Todd Field, former batboy for the Portland Mavericks
What would the Mavericks do?
When it comes to guiding principles to live by, we could all do much worse.
That’s my main takeaway from the second movie on this month-long journey through baseball cinema. The Battered Bastards of Baseball is a documentary telling the unlikely story of the Portland Mavericks, an independent baseball team who won the affection of their city, and the attention of the nation, from 1973-1977. The film is in turns funny, moving, joyful, and heartbreaking, with a few surprises along the way. [For example, did you know that without the Mavericks, we wouldn’t have Big League Chew?! I sure didn’t!]
The team was created by actor Bing Russell, although you’re probably more familiar with Bing’s son, actor and former Portland Maverick, Kurt Russell. Initially considered a joke by local media, as well as the baseball community as a whole, the Mavericks were made up entirely of players who had been been rejected by MLB-affiliated clubs. Many were in their mid-30s (well past baseball prime). Most of them had never played any level of professional baseball in their lives, and the majority weren’t taken seriously as athletes of any sort. It was a foregone conclusion that the team didn’t belong in professional competition. None of that stopped them from shocking the baseball world. They went on to be featured in national sports coverage on television and in print. Even until today, that’s an otherwise unprecedented feat for a low-A baseball team.
When the call was posted, men came out of the woodwork to try out for the Mavericks. They did so for the same reason Russell created the team: because they loved baseball beyond all rational sense. These men dropped everything else in their lives for the chance to play the lowest possible level of professional baseball. They knew there was no chance they’d be called up to play at a higher level, no prospect of a big payday, and no guarantee the team would even exist in a month’s time. Yet, they loaded onto busses and road-tripped and hitchhiked their ways across the country. Many sold all their stuff, leaving behind their jobs, homes, and safety nets for the outside chance someone would let them play organized baseball.
That’s madness!
It’s also fucking beautiful.
Oh, to be more like these lunatics, who played and lived with joyful abandon, giving everything they could for the opportunity to do what they cared about above all else. To be more like these men who played recklessly, always at full tilt, because they loved the game so goddamned much. They knew they had nothing to lose, and they played like it.
That’s the way to live a life.
As it turned out, this attitude resulted in the Mavericks beating the shit out of the MLB-affiliated teams they weren’t deemed worthy to share a field with. The way they approached life, as a team, created a magic that inspired all of Portland to fall in love. It’s why they drew crowds far larger than any other team in minor league baseball, at any level. The Portland Mavericks were a party, and the whole world was invited.
Tragically, the team was soon torn down by Major League Baseball. The magic was snuffed out by institutional gatekeepers who refused to let the game be something new and unfamiliar. A team outside organizational control, made up of players who had no reason to obey the unwritten rules and color inside arbitrary lines, was seen as a threat. Not to mention the fact that said gatekeepers had been humiliated by the Mavericks, shown up by a team they’d dismissed out of hand. So, using unfair laws pertaining to the game, the MLB shut the team down. [Side note: I’m looking at some of the films ahead of me this month. This institutional rigidity, and abuse in the name of protecting the game’s purity, is a theme that I’ll revisit in greater detail as this whole thing progresses.]
All that to say, you should absolutely watch this movie. Even if you don’t like baseball, it’s a great way to spend 80 minutes.
I loved it, and I hope there’s still some of that Maverick magic left. Maybe a little might rub off on me.
[The Battered Bastards of Baseball is available on Netflix. Which, of course, you already knew, because you used your JustWatch app.]
Next Movie: Next up, we’ll double down on documentaries with No No: A Dockumentary. It’s the story of Dock Ellis, the man best known for pitching a no-hitter while high on LSD.
