We’ve gotten a few landmark sports films over the last 50 or so years. Now, there are many good sports movies, a lot of decent ones, and not-so-great ones are a dime a dozen. Each decade has had at least one top-tier sports film, but usually more. The 1970s had Rocky (and Slap Shot; shoutout to Paul Newman!). Raging Bull, Bull Durham, and Field of Dreams came out in the ‘80s. The ‘90s were stacked, with The Sandlot, A League of Their Own, He Got Game, and Rudy, to name a few. And we had Remember the Titans, Miracle, and Friday Night Lights in the 2000s, another pretty awesome sports movie decade.
The 2011 biographical sports drama Moneyball, directed by Bennett Miller, might be the genre’s peak in the 2010s (although I’d be remiss in not mentioning Creed and the criminally under-discussed Warrior here). Moneyball was nominated for six Academy Awards – quite a few for a sports flick.
Moneyball is based on Michael Lewis’ 2003 book Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game. The book chronicled the Oakland Athletics’ 2002 season and how the team’s general manager, Billy Beane, worked to build a good roster with a fraction of the money bigger MLB teams had.
The movie opens with the A’s falling to the New York Yankees in the 2001 American League Division Series. In the offseason, three key players leave Oakland: outfielder Johnny Damon signs with the Boston Red Sox, Jason Isringhausen goes to the St. Louis Cardinals, and first baseman/designated hitter Jason Giambi leaves for none other than the Bronx Bombers themselves. Billy (Brad Pitt), of course, would’ve loved to have brought these guys back, but at the end of the day, he’s simply outbid by clubs with more cash to spend.
As Billy’s driving to work the day after the loss, a local sports talk radio host makes a keen, and somewhat depressing, observation about the team’s state of affairs: The A’s are essentially just a farm system for richer teams. Oakland drafts and develops talented guys like Giambi, but when they’re due for a big contract, ownership doesn’t want to pony up, so they go to a club that will give them their big payday, just as they’re hitting their primes.
Billy’s got quite the mountain to climb headed into ‘02. Not only was there a significant departure in talent, but he’s given a meager $41 million payroll to build the roster. Meanwhile, the Yankees are rolling into the season with a cool $126 million. How are the A’s supposed to compete with that?
Lo and behold, during a trade talk with the Cleveland Indians brass, Billy meets Peter Brand (Jonah Hill, who got an Oscar nomination for his role). Peter studied economics at Yale, and his first job out of college was with the Indians. Peter sees roster building differently than basically everyone else in the game. Essentially, Peter’s theory is that teams, rather than paying for players, should instead pay for wins, and, more specifically, runs. He tells Billy that Boston overpaid Damon relative to his value in scoring runs, and it’s good that he’s off Oakland’s books.
Billy brings Peter onto his staff as his Assistant GM, and Peter uses his knowledge of advanced statistics to explain what the A’s need out of their players in order to make the postseason. An equation Peter created, which uses player stats, brings players that other teams overlook to the forefront. Maybe it’s because of age, or appearance, or personality, but whatever it is that other clubs see as being “wrong” with them, Peter believes that the 25 seriously undervalued players he’s found can come together to win a championship, while staying within the team’s budget constraints. The key is to bring in players who get on base. Things like batting average, and even the positions they play, are secondary to one statistic: on-base percentage. More guys on base means more guys crossing the plate, which means the likelihood of winning goes up. That’s pretty much the whole idea.
Sounds intriguing, doesn’t it? Billy certainly thinks so. And the math doesn’t lie, right? Well, the A’s scouting team is not thrilled. These are dudes that have been around the game for decades, putting in the work, traveling the country to see players up close and personal, and now some fresh-out-of-college Ivy League nerd waltzes in and tells them that the way they’ve gone about their life’s work is essentially wrong. They are, understandably, taken aback and borderline offended by this new approach, which is fully embraced by Billy. Watching the roomful of old baseball heads react in increasing disdain to each player Billy pitches them is actually pretty funny, and it sums up how off-the-wall the approach was at the time. But, Billy’s got the final say on the roster, and he and Peter bring in their guys.
Oakland’s season starts out a little rocky. Billy, despite having control over who’s on the team, doesn’t get to choose which players take the field; that’s the job of manager Art Howe (the all-time great Philip Seymour Hoffman, unsurprisingly, turning in a note-perfect performance). The two regularly clash about the lineups, with Billy insisting on playing the players the way he envisioned, and Art standing his ground and fielding what he sees as the best group of guys each day. The several sequences where Pitt and Hoffman face off are spectacular.
After weeks of pretty miserable baseball, something happens that no one expects: Oakland starts winning. Like, a lot. And suddenly, Billy and Peter’s vision starts to make sense to everyone who doubted them. The A’s find themselves in the thick of the AL race again, despite an exodus of good players and a dearth of cash. The plan’s working, and baseball’s never seen anything quite like it.
What makes Moneyball a unicorn among modern movies in the genre is that the actual playing of the sport at hand isn’t really shown a whole lot, and when it is, it’s portrayed in an almost mystical fashion, utilizing slow-motion and somewhat strange yet effective lighting. The story isn’t told on the field; it’s told in meetings, and in film rooms, and from behind desks.
During the initial losing stretch (when Billy and Art aren’t seeing eye to eye), Billy and Peter decide the team needs some juice, and they shake things up by trading several key players. The scene pivots between brief phone conversations with a few general managers and quick one-on-one talks between Billy and Peter as they juggle several ongoing discussions with other clubs. I know on paper this probably sounds like watching paint dry, but believe me when I tell you it is completely electrifying. It’s a glimpse into what it really looks like when a team’s roster changes. It starts with a discussion among some people in offices scattered around the country, saying, “Hey, we want your guy, and we’ll give you our guy for him.” These talks, as informal and mundane as they may be, don’t just impact names on a piece of paper, or even nine guys on a baseball field. It can be a shot in the arm for the culture of a team, and inspire a fan base, and maybe even change a sport forever.
I won’t tell you the result of the 2002 A’s season here, but after the season is over, Billy’s contemplating what the A’s accomplishments that year mean for the game of baseball. The film concludes with what is absolutely in the very upper echelon of sports movie scenes. I won’t spoil it; in fact, the scene itself is a good enough reason to fire up Moneyball for the first time, or the second, or the tenth. The sequence is a simple and brilliant encapsulation of the beauty and the magic around baseball, but it also demonstrates how, even though you think you failed, you might have actually succeeded beyond what you thought possible.
Moneyball reminds us that sometimes, you have to buck the trend if you believe it’s the right thing to do. In just about any facet of life – sports, business, film, music, fashion, food, etc. – sometimes people can’t see the forest for the trees, and it takes a fresh perspective to reimagine what can be achieved, and how.
Other teams would go on to successfully utilize Oakland’s roster building method in the years to come. Does that justify Billy and Peter’s philosophy more than, say, an Athletics World Series? Is their lasting impact on the game more significant than what’s in a trophy case? I suppose it depends on who you ask.
There’s an almost transcendental energy around baseball; it’s hard not to let it envelop you with a childlike sense of wonder, and hope, and possibility. A good sports movie does this as well.
“How can you not be romantic about baseball?” Billy asks Peter. Moneyball just might make you ask this question, too.
Jalen’s columns, “Movies You Gotta See” and “The Free Play,” can be found online at www.medium.com/@jalenmaki.
Follow Jalen on Letterboxd at www.letterboxd.com/jalenmaki182/ to see what he’s been watching.
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