‘The Bad News Bears’ Turns 50: One of the Most Misinterpreted Scenes in Baseball Movie History

Around game 130, 140, baseball fans start rousing from the heavy heat of late summer. The play-by-play, low on the radio or TV, is a soporific to our naps. Remember those days before the 15-second pitch clock, a summer game could stretch three and a half, four hours? Those were the days. Now we start feeling guilty at the two-hour mark. We should get up and do something. We’re vaguely aware of where our team is in the standings. What happened during those mid-summer trades anyway? Before we start rushing toward October, maybe we stay on the couch a little longer. The air will change soon enough. We could watch “The Bad News Bears,” celebrate it turning 50. Maybe even see how Hollywood reflects the world and the antidote to the world through one of the most misinterpreted scenes in baseball movie history.  

First, you have to know the language. Start with names. There’s the Bears reluctant coach, Morris Buttermaker. Matter-of-fact without being crass, that’s a reference to a womanizer. Then there’s Kelly Leak, the rebellious motorcycle rider with actual athletic talent. He wears a choker, lights Buttermaker’s cigar, and is a womanizer in the making. His name hints at things that men understand, but society and women know nothing about. God gave man the job of naming, and man got a piece of that job and smashed it out of the park. Then there’s Amanda Whurlitzer. Although spelled differently, Wurlitzer makes pianos, organs, jukeboxes … music. Amanda making music. A man’s music. Considering the ages and the relationship, wrong since the dawn of time. And, yet, still, here we are.

Buttermaker is a down-and-out former minor league pitcher with a drinking problem. The scene in which he’s driving the team around in his car, telling stories, is symbolic. Men know that if you make it to The Show in any capacity, it’s because you played the game. Either you wanted to or you had no choice, often both. The higher up you go, the higher the stakes. Money, health, soul. Women outside the system know little if anything of this game. Maybe we should give them a copy of the rulebook. 

Even in the minor leagues the baseline of advancement is prostate stimulation wrapped in a blackmail contract. Whatever the bible outlines as coloring outside the lines is what the world demands as payment for play. Some succumb to societal pressure and the effects of male-male porn on young minds. Some are raised from birth in a hell of sexual assault, incest, bestiality, and ritual abuse. In between is the majority riding a streak of youth, feel-good experiences, and the pride of power.

Before Amanda is recruited we see Coach telling his story to a carload of young boys on the way to the batting cages. The young boys are enthralled to be on the inside: A grown man who went to the show spending time with them, sharing his story, and taking an interest in their success. The man and young boys exchange banter and ribbing. No matter how often you repeat a thing, some women are just oblivious to the obvious. A grown man and young boys.  

During the Bears’ first game, the opposing team tops 20 on the scoreboard without the Bears getting a single out. Coach Buttermaker forfeits the game when it gets too painful to watch. One player, a black boy named Ahmed, strips off all his clothes and climbs a tree in embarrassment and shame. Buttermaker climbs up into the tree with him. 

The tree is often representative of Jesus, his sacrifice, his abounding love. And what do we see, an old white man climbing up in that tree to meet a young black boy where he’s at, alone and naked, offering encouragement with his words. He discourages Ahmed from bringing race into things since black and white both live in this man’s world and we need to help each other.

Despite Ahmed’s frustration about not being a good fielder, Buttermaker brings it around to his strengths: speed and switchhitting. He’s fast and hits from both sides of the plate. The coach could have been harsh or dismissive, but he isn’t. He recognizes that the system leaves boys to pay a price far above their means in pain and shame. This time, the old white man essentially tells the young black boy that he’ll have a role that showcases his talents. This could be an acknowledgement of a system that uses rewards to buy silence and compliance. Simultaneously, if used for good instead of selfishness, we can all uplift each other.

Once Buttermaker focuses on actually coaching instead of drinking, the team starts winning, even making it into the playoffs. The dugout scene with Amanda is arguably one of the most misinterpreted scenes in baseball movie history. Amanda proposes a number of ways she and Buttermaker could spend time together. Buttermaker used to date her mother and he was the one who taught Amanda to pitch and recruited her onto the Bears. In other words, he’s a father figure, not just her coach. She is outwardly trying to get him and her mother back together, but inwardly something else is going on for the tough-talking girl-child coming into womanhood.

Buttermaker focuses on icing her elbow, helping her heal, taking the beers out of the equation (bucket). He politely rebuffs her a couple of times, deflecting the invitations. She keeps at it. He stands up and faces her. He tells her he’s a bum and likes it that way. She tells him that he’s not and reminds him that he taught her how to pitch. He swears and throws his beer can at her. “Can’t you get it through your thick head that I don’t want your company. If I did I would have looked you up two years ago. I wouldn’t have waited two God-damn years … Did you ever think of that?” 

Amanda gets up, leaves the dugout and walks across the field, wiping tears from her eyes. But the sun is on her. The camera returns to Buttermaker sitting in the dark of the dugout. But what most people miss is that he’s crying, too.

Watch it again. Two years ago he stepped away from the temptation of spending time with a child. Now he’s being forced to confirm his walk on this narrower path. His rejection of Amanda is an act of sacrifice on his part. He seeks to do good by her now, and he means it. He wants her to play baseball, to not grow up too fast, to take care of her arm, to steer her right this time. Maybe in the process he regains a measure of self-respect as a man. 

The devil and the world turns everything from the Word of God on its head. Upside down and backwards is how the enemy beats his opponent: mankind. Maybe the good news is that “The Bad News Bears” isn’t about a bunch of fowl-mouthed kids with an irredeemable coach. It’s about the real-world redemption of one man saying no to what looks good but leads down an increasingly dark path. Sacrificial living for something grander than himself. Maybe they should have called it, “The Good News Bears.”