No, the bellyache was due to the entire package of Red Vines and small Coke I had during the movie. (And, case you're wondering, yes, I did use a Red Vine as a straw. Delicious!)
"Darnit, Pankin, you're better than that!" I admonished myself. "Your mother works for Weight Watchers, for goodness sake. Where's your portion control?"
The truth is, I was nervously eating because my attention was split between the movie and my inner thoughts. These thoughts, as they so often do, had turned to baseball, specifically a movie about baseball that was almost directed by the same director whose work I was watching on the screen.
In case you haven't heard, this movie was Moneyball, an adaptation of Michael Lewis's bestselling novel about Oakland A's General Manager Billy Beane and his new stats-based approach to player evaluation. The book chronicled the A's 2002 season, which included the fabled "Moneyball Draft," where the A's drafted - against popular wisdom - such future solid major leaguers as Nick Swisher (now with the Yankees), Joe Blanton (Phillies), and Mark Teahen (Royals, also the starting third-baseman for Team Canada in this year's World Baseball Classic).
In addition to Soderbergh, Brad Pitt was attached to star as Beane, Demitri Martin had the second lead (Paul DePodesta, Beane's right-hand man), and numerous ex-baseballers would have played themselves, recreating parts of their careers on the silver screen. But as the project neared the start of production, the studio (Sony) had issues with Soderbergh's revisions of Steven Zaillian's script (a script which also needed the approval of Major League Baseball). Soderbergh tried to offer the film to other studios, but when he received only rejections, the director was let go. With Pitt still attached, Sony hired writer Aaron Sorkin (The West Wing, Sports Night) to punch up the script. This was back in July, and imdb.com lists the movie as being "in production."
Despite my affiliation with the Oakland A's, I never read Moneyball. Or, rather, I never finished Moneyball. Part of the reason was that I read the book in 2003 - the year of its publication - while the A's were right in the midst of their fourth straight heartbreaking loss in the first round of the playoffs. This time it was against the Red Sox; the three previous years, they fell to the Twins, the Yankees, and the Yankees again. The book is basically a love letter to Billy Beane: how he's head and shoulders above other GMs in terms of intellect, light-years ahead of them in terms of insight, and that his new methods of player evaluation and development would revolutionize baseball. Meanwhile, on my television set, I watched Billy Beane's team drop three straight games to the Red Sox after taking a two-game lead and needing only one more win to clinch the series. Reading about the brilliance of the A's management while simultaneously watching the A's inability to advance in the playoffs provided too intense an emotional disconnect, causing me to hurl my copy of Moneyball across the room. I haven't opened it since.
I have, however, read the first draft of Steven Zaillian's script for the film. I enjoyed it, but then again I also recognized the name of every front office man, every relief pitcher, and every low draft pick that got even a passing reference. So despite this enjoyment, I found myself unable to put myself in the shoes of someone less obsessed with baseball than I in order to judge whether the movie would hold the average audience member's attention. It seemed likely that many of the subtleties would be lost on someone who didn't follow every game of the 2002 season (much like how many of the subtleties of The Wire are lost on people who did not grow up in Baltimore).
That's not to say that there isn't material for a compelling movie in the Moneyball story. The season in question is perfectly suited for a sports movie: handsome, charismatic, and savvy GM leads a team with an embarrassingly low payroll to an unexpectedly successful season. A season, by the way, that included a first place finish after sitting 10 games back in the standings at one point, and a magical, record-setting 20-game winning streak. I mean, the movie almost writes itself! Furthermore, Beane's off-the-field exploits - his wheeling and dealing with other GMs, his intellectual conversion to stats-based rather than gut feeling-based player evaluation, and his Jimmy McNulty-esque personal life - make for a compelling character study (and a meaty role for a two-time Oscar nominee to boot!).
The skinny on the plug-pulling was that Soderbergh's rewrite of the script included lengthy interviews with real players and other narrative jaunts unfamiliar to the genre. The studio got nervous, not wanting to disappoint their time-tested sports movie demographic and sent the Oscar-winning director packing.
Which brings us back to said director's current project, The Informant!, and my binge-marked viewing of it. Watching Soderbergh's adaptation of Mark Whitacre's story, I couldn't help but speculate as to how his particular directorial style would have enhanced Billy Beane's story. I was especially interested in Matt Damon's performance, which prompted fantasies about how an actor just as familiar with Soderbergh as Damon (Pitt and Damon both appeared in all three of Soderbergh's Ocean's # series) would have worked with the director to cultivate a portrayal of one of the most captivating figures in Major League Baseball. Finally, after all these flights of fancy, I was jolted back into reality with the recollection that the project is all but completely off the table (unless Sorkin can work magic with his pen and Pitt can find another director, one who's willing to work with a trimmed budget).
With all this going on in my head, no wonder I ate so much during the movie!
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