Johnny Baseball

American Repertory Theatre, Cambridge, MA

6/2/10

I didn’t hate it until really close to the end. So I guess that’s saying something.

Let’s get one thing really, really clear first. I am the polar opposite of the target audience for this show. I don’t like musicals. Big strike one there. I’m also a pretty serious Red Sox fan – I’d wager that I know the history better than the average fan, which puts ART in jeopardy of pissing me off if they get too cute with the artistic license. So I had a sneaking suspicion I was going to be cranky when the final curtain fell on this one.

So the fact that the first four-fifths of this was mostly inoffensive to me is fairly high praise, considering the circumstances, even if I ended up walking out with an awful taste in my mouth thanks to the last 20 or 25 minutes.

Another caveat – before I go on the inevitable rant about what I hated so thoroughly near the end, I want to stress that I think the vast majority of people who would even consider going to this would probably get a kick out of it. The music is more fun than not, all of the performances were strong (more on that later), the production elements are really nicely designed and put together really well. 100% of my issues with the show fall in the lap of the writers, and not any of the other countless artists and staff involved in the production. I firmly believe that there are a lot of people who will connect with this show in a different way than I did, not be bothered at all by it, and have a wonderful time. In fact, that’s definitely the impression I got from some other guests at the post-show opening night gala.

But where theatre is an entirely subjective experience, I can’t speak for those who had a pleasant time from open to close. I can only speak for me, and talk about my experience. And my experience as a historically-informed Red Sox fan found a script that slowly deteriorated over the course of two hours until finally, in two connected moments, it spat on the long, storied, damn-near-mythologized history of this team. A history that is revered by the team’s fans and some of its players, current and from years past. A history that has undoubtedly made a red “B” in blue trim one of the most recognizable entertainment symbols from the past century. All I could think about as I walked out of ART last night was that the writers of Johnny Baseball, one a member of Red Sox Nation himself, had no respect for the team, its fans, or the specific players who gave us the most exciting, rewarding sports moment of the last 90 years.

Johnny Baseball follows Johnny O’Brien (Colin Donnell), an orphaned rookie pitcher with a helluva fastball who works his way up to the Boston Red Sox during Babe Ruth’s (Burke Moses) final season with the team in 1919. Ruth takes the fellow orphan under his wing, and introduces him to Daisy Wyatt (Stephanie Umoh), a young African-American jazz singer just finding her way in Boston. Sparks fly, of course, and as Johnny’s career takes off and his romance with Daisy deepens, the two of them must confront the realities of race relations in the early 20^th century.

Their story is told through an old African-American man, who is sharing it with a young Red Sox fan. They also happen to be sitting in the Fenway Park bleachers during Game 4 of the 2004 ALCS against the Yankees. Eventually, the stories merge, and the audience sees a what-if scenario of the progression of the fabled Curse of the Bambino.

According to ART’s website, Johnny Baseball “traces the origin of the Curse to a collision of three orphaned souls… these three lives contain both the reason for the Curse and the secret to its end of the bat of Big Papi in 2004.” When you’re dealing with a mythos like the Curse of the Bambino, of course everyone is entitled to their opinion. But I have a very hard time swallowing that opinion when it relies on a very selective list of conceits that don’t really jibe with the legitimate history of the Red Sox. Without going into any details of the surprises and reveals throughout the play, the authors (Richard Dresser, Robert Reale & Willie Reale) sort of mangle some of the important aspects of the story. Their curse starts – and it has a very clear, active “start” – in 1948. But if you’re really going to play with this particular story, and you decide to bump the generally accepted start date of The Curse by nearly 30 years, you damn sure better give a good reason why the Red Sox, the greatest team in the first 15 years of the modern era (1903-1918), failed miserably for the next thirty years… and then got cursed. Why should I believe that 1948-2004 was a vindictive (if not undeserved) curse placed on the team, but 1919-1947 was just really bad management? To me, that just seems sloppy.

I’m also not at all pleased with the implication of how the curse was lifted. The writers drops two clear, contrived and cheesy instances of deus ex machina onto the end of the play – watching the otherwise-beautiful lighting and set flicker and flash as the hex was placed made me want to scream – and instead of being at all enlightening, or even all that interestingSox Nation finally got satisfaction after 86 years of heartbreak because one selfish bastard decided he’d punished people enough, and recanted his curse at the perfectly convenient moment.

The issue is that in the same two hours that the play is touting baseball’s place in American history, it’s also implying that the game itself has no actual impact or importance on its own – it’s merely a social mirror to what’s going on in the country as a whole, vulnerable to the whims of those involved in it. It’s a very contradictory when compared with the group sitting in the bleachers, watching this infamous game, and all of the stock they’re placing on it. In one song, they all plead with God for “One More Run,” because that’s clearly something important enough to them to make such a high request. In another, “Do or Die,” a couple’s entire relationship is dependent on the outcome of Boston’s season. Do these two contradictory messages really belong in the same show? If the point is to show the pointlessness of fans placing such importance on inconsequential games, then sure. But that’s not very generous to the fans you’re likely trying to lure into the theater to watch the show.

Of course those are overblown examples – of course they are, this is musical theatre. But you’ve got one hand setting up the sanctity and importance of baseball and this team for so many people over many generations, while at the same time the other hand is showing just how meaningless the entire sport is – the 2004 team, heroes to unexaggerated millions,  don’t even factor in. They were just in the right place at the right time.

Talking with my fiancée after the show, she was a little amused (but not at all surprised) by my fury, and came up with a pretty good reason why I was mad. “It’s blasphemy!” she said. And that’s partially right. I am pretty well wrapped up in this team, and the ups and downs of their seasons, and have been for the better part of 15 years (I know, I’m a rookie compared to some of the long-suffering fans. That’s still three-fifths of my lifetime, so cut me a little slack). So to have someone twist this mythology in this way certainly pisses me off on a personal level, but that’s not the bulk of it. Being angry about blasphemy is being angry because someone disagrees and has the gall to talk about it in front of you. Much more than that, I’m angry because in writing what was disguised as a love letter to the game, these guys ended up disrespecting it, disrespecting the Boston Red Sox, specifically the 2004 team, and every player who made that historic World Series title possible. And that’s infuriating to me.

Dismissing the accomplishments of that team as a happy coincidence completely undermines the game and the place that baseball or any other athletic competition holds in our society. Admittedly, that place might be a little higher than it ought to be at times (BEAT LA!), but this is a Trojan horse into the minds of the fans who revel in those sports and pastimes.

I don’t want to end this on that sour a note, so let me just say that until the writing took that very unfortunate turn, I was fairly amused for the first good chunk of the play. First off, the set is gorgeous, featuring a very versatile set of Fenway bleachers, set on casters and able to be rearranged into different configurations. It allows for a nice variety of levels and dimensions without getting repetitive, even though you spend a good amount of time looking at different ballparks. I’m also pretty sure ART rebuilt their entire deck and stage to accommodate the show, pulling out what would have been considered “orchestra” seating to create side sections, performing the show on a thrust that gives much more of a ballpark feel. Even the light grids above those sections are reminiscent of the field lights at Fenway. Nicely done. There’s also a fantastic moment when Ruth hits a home run during a game – a combination of lighting, blocking and performance that perfectly and hilariously imitates film from the time period. Pretty sure I laughed louder than anyone else in the room on that one.

The performances are quite good, as well, in particular from Johnny “Baseball” O’Brien himself. Colin Donnell finds nice moments throughout the play to highlight Johnny’s growth. He hits small-time pitcher well; his starstruck introduction to Babe Ruth is hilarious; he picks up an appropriate swagger as his stock rises, and then finds a wonderfully contrasting darkness and bitterness as an older Johnny lives out the rest of his life wondering what could have been. It’s a really nice progression that Donnell handles with ease.

I wish I could say the same about the romantic plotline, but I don’t think it’s a good thing when you view the female lead and love interest as an extraneous character. The story seemed stunted, and the actual courtship between Johnny and Daisy felt condensed into about half of the amount of time it needed to have to really carry any weight. You only see two or three meetings between the two of them, and none of them really hold the significance to generate the impact the relationship is supposed to have later in the play. I think this weakness also led to some of the less-inspired directing in the show –when given nothing significant to portray emotionally, the scenes fall flat and stretch too long, often ending up with Daisy staring off into space longingly while Johnny stares longingly at the back of her head. Elsewhere, Diane Paulus’s directing is sharp and fun, highlighted by a raucous scene in a Boston brothel where all ten or twelve characters onstage never run out of things to do. Despite the writing’s shortcomings, Stephanie Umoh is charming and sweet as Daisy, and her voice will blow the roof off that theater for the entire run of the show. The scenes featuring Daisy as a jazz singer, though inconsequential to the show as a whole, really do a great job featuring Umoh’s talent.

The show’s ensemble is equally strong, with standouts in Burke Moses, who spends most of his onstage time playing Babe Ruth, and Jeff Brooks, who plays a collection of older characters including early Sox catcher Wally Schang and controversial (yet legendary) Sox owner Tom Yawkey. An honorable mention also goes to Alan H. Green, whose short turn as a certain legendary player produces a lot of laughs and the best song of the show. The modern-day crowd scenes portray some unwelcome but not uncommon (and, admittedly, not entirely untrue) stereotypes about Boston fans, but they also produce some of the most enjoyable songs in the show. The opening number “Eighty-Six Years” is catchy, goofy fun, and also lays out the history for those who might not be intimately familiar with it.

I’ll say it again: there’s a lot to like here, and maybe I’m being petty by letting those two moments ruin the entire experience. But those two moments are crucial to the plot, and in my mind forces all of the show’s credibility to come crashing down. They ruined an otherwise enjoyable night at the theater for me, and one that obviously still has me fuming a day and a half later. If you don’t care as much about the history as I do – and there’s no reason you ought to – forget the entire middle section of this review and go enjoy a peppy, sweet musical with the Red Sox as a backdrop.

But you most certainly will not see me there again.

JD Drew: Great man? Or GREATEST man?

OK, I certainly didn't expect that.

Drew's 2-run homer (courtesy ESPN.com)

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I've certainly been holding out more hope than some of my friends and family this week, but going into last night, the situation certainly looked grim for the Red Sox. Heck, halfway through the game things looked pretty grim. But once again, the Sox proved that when their back is against the wall, they play better baseball and get more ridiculous luck than any other team. Ever. My fear, of course, is that they've somehow conditioned themselves to ONLY win in this manner, which will make every playoff run incredibly painful. But heck, if that's what it takes...

There's an argument that this was due. David Ortiz has had his worst playoff performance since emerging as Big Papi in 2003. He's hitting .167 in the postseason this year, compared to a .387 mark through the first two rounds of the playoffs last year. Last night's giant home run was his first of the 2008 postseason. JD Drew, the guy who picked up Ortiz's slack when Ortiz was out healing his wrist this summer, was certainly doing decently in this off-season, but hadn't shown the Papi-like knack for clutch hitting that he started showing in last year's playoffs. And Dustin Pedroia, the guy who started the scoring last night with a perfect RBI single, has been really the only Red Sox player to be consistently hot through the ALCS... it was only a matter of time before the rest of the team started bringing him around.

I make no illusion that I might be able to call this series right now. The ball is still in the court of the Rays, but last night the Sox demonstrated that calling them out of the playoffs is premature unless the World Series has already started without them. If nothing else, it guarantees an interesting 2009 campaign. The Rays, no doubt, are gonna be good, probably great. B.J. Upton and Evan Longoria are poised to become the next big superstar 1-2 punch in the majors. I think the Rays will replace the Yankees as the team for whom Sox fans will always keep an eye out.

When I left work last night around 10:15, it was 7-0 Tampa Bay. By the time I got home and turned on the TV, the 7th inning had just ended, and the Sox had brought the game back into questionable territory at 7-4. I think my neighbors hate me for the noise I was making for that hour last night. One thing's for sure... I need to find a way to swap my night shift tomorrow for the day shift. There's not a chance in hell I'm missing this.

Red Sox, Bill Simmons, Manny Ramirez and the first game of the playoffs

In early August, I wrote a rambling piece about the Manny Ramirez trade. It clocked in at about 1700 words and I think did a pretty good job of expressing my feelings on the whole thing. Now ESPN Sports Guy Bill Simmons, formerly known as the Boston Sports Guy, has outdone me 5 to 1. While half of this city ate the bull they were fed and said good riddance to Manny, there’s still a good portion of people – Simmons and my brother included – who aren’t exactly pleased with the trade. One game into the 2008 playoffs, I can’t say I blame them.

Simmons hits it on the head in a few different places – that Scott Boras is quite possibly the real villain in all of this is probably the most impossible to prove and still the most likely. Like he said, the man wasn’t getting paid unless Manny signed a new contract somewhere, and Scott Boras always gets paid. That despite all the crap that was piled on top of Manny in his last few months, I still can’t root against him or wish that the guy does poorly. But most importantly, Simmons is right that Manny’s good moments over seven-plus seasons greatly outweigh the bad, and no one is taking that away from us.

Going into the Red Sox division series with the Angels, who were by far the best team in baseball (to be fair, their division sucked, ours did not), it’s difficult not to wish for the comfort of Manny hitting behind David Ortiz. Instead, we get Manny’s replacement Jason Bay hitting behind a barely-recovered J.D. Drew… hitting behind Kevin Youkilis… hitting behind Big Papi. It just doesn’t have the one-two punch we’ve enjoyed for the last couple years, nor does it instill the same sort of fear in opposing pitchers that the Dynamic Dominican Duo were so good at exploiting. To be fair to the rest of the team, the Sox have had a different feel to them all season – Ortiz wasn’t the monster he’d been in previous seasons (Manny’s absence behind him during the last few months probably impacted this a bit, but not enough to make up the difference); Drew, after erasing any doubts about him in the last year and a half, went down for the stretch and I’m sure caused some grumbles last night; Mike Lowell’s similar absence in September was definitely felt, and the Coco Crisp/Jacoby Ellsbury lampoon in center field was not nearly as effective as many would have hoped. On the bright side, Kevin Youkilis and Dustin Pedroia are fighting each other for MVP candidacy, and I don’t think anyone in April would have guessed that Jon Lester would start Game 1 of the playoffs and kind of beat up on the best team in the league like he did last night. It’s a different team than it has been in the last couple or four years, and to Boston fans, that’s scary. Because the last four years (re: 2004 & 2007) were the best years EVER.

I think it’s still going to take some getting used to. This series with the Angels will be the first real test. I doubt we’re going to see seven innings from Dice-K tomorrow, and with Josh Beckett’s oblique still a question mark for Sunday, these coming games have the potential to expose the soft underbelly that is the Red Sox middle relief. We’ve still got to get comfortable with the “get on base by any means necessary” strategy from Youkilis and Pedroia – even though they’ve been doing it for a few years now – because it’s not the baseball-destroying postseason fireworks we’ve come to expect. We’ve gotta trust the young guys. Papelbon, Pedroia and Lowrie help – Buccholz, Hansen, Delcarmen (and ultimately Ellsbury, I think… at least for this season) don’t. The team is still gluing together the consistency they’re going to need if they’re going to go back-to-back.

I’m still not sure on the Sox chances in this series. I'll admit, I like them more now than I did 24 hours ago, but again, the Angels are the best team in the MLB this season. One interesting point – the Angels won the season series against the Sox 8-1. The last time the two teams played was July 30^th. Manny Ramirez was traded to the Dodgers on July 31^st. Will this matter? I don’t know. You can be sure that if the Sox win the series, someone will claim that it does. I’d rather be able to chalk it up to a team that finally meshed, finally hit their stride together and finally got all of the vital components healthy and focused. But I don’t think we’d ever really know.

The one thing I do know? If the Red Sox make it to the World Series, I want to play the Cubs. If the Red Sox DON’T make it to the World Series, I want the Dodgers to. I still like Manny, and have no ill will toward the guy. But I don’t want to play him. Say what you will about Manny’s somewhat-suspicious resurgence after the trade. I’m willing to believe that he was just in a better mood and more focused because of it, not that he was actively holding anything back. But I don’t want to play a streaking Manny Ramirez (which he will most certainly be, if the Dodgers make it that far. No one else is going to carry that team through the playoffs like that), and I don’t want to find out if Manny can be vindictive.

On a related note, the final thing that Simmons nailed in his piece: for the love of Ted Williams, let the Dodgers step up and re-sign Manny. Because if they don’t, the Yankees will. Hank is just crazy enough to push for it. And psychological damage of seeing Manny in pinstripes aside, I don’t want to play in Manny’s division. The emergent Rays are bad enough. Them plus a resurgent Yankees thanks to Manny’s power? I’m just not ready for that.