“Is there anything more beautiful than a fat man stealing second base?”
At the festival screening of Eephus, director Carson Lund said the working title of the film during its development was “Field of Dreams in Reverse”, with a tagline, “If you tear it down, they will leave.” That comment reflects the humor in the film, but it shouldn’t be taken to give the idea that this is a film that looks down at baseball. In fact, it is an ode to baseball. It is also a look at what it means to grieve things we love.
The easiest way to describe the plot is to say it is the story of the last baseball game to be played at a small-town field. The ballpark is to be razed so a new school can be built. This is a place of memories. It is called Soldiers Field, reflecting a memorial of things past. That past is now being lost. It should be noted that this is a game being played in New England in October. The fall colors are a visual reminder that this is a story of a changing season.
This is not about great athletes. This is a rec league game. The players are getting older, fatter, slower. But they love to play. For some, with the demise of the ball field, this will be their final game. There is a comradery among the players, even opposing players. They are all sharing this final time at a place they have met so often over the years.
The title refers to a junk pitch which is thrown slowly with a high arc. The speed and angle are designed to mess up a batter’s timing. As the game progresses, starting in the morning (after a new forfeit), moving into the afternoon, past the time limit when the umpires leave, and eventually into the night as they go into extra innings, the game seems to have a kind of eephus arc.
The game is there for the players, more than the players for the game. Only a few spectators stop by to watch, except for Franny, the scorekeeper who shows up early and is the one who bears witness. He is not a part of the game, but he records each play. He spouts little baseball aphorisms from time to time. He is, for me, a bit of a Deistic god-like figure. He watches the game and the players because it gives him happiness—whether they do well, or make mistakes. He may make a judgment, but never condemnation.
That is what makes this more than just an elegy to baseball—although it certainly is that. This is an experience of an ending or sorts. As long as the game goes on, all those involved are fending off the encroaching end. For them this is holy ground. Like Field of Dreams, the film uses baseball as a lens to contemplate life, meaning, and mortality. No ghosts come out to play on this field (except perhaps a small visit from former major leaguer Bill “Spaceman” Lee). Rather the field itself is the ghost that the players are already grieving.
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