Fed up with the team owner's miserly ways, and inspired by fellow ballplayer Leon Carter's (James Earl Jones) discussion of their needs to seize the means of production, Negro League pitcher Bingo Long (Billy Dee Williams) forms a team of the best players in the league. They travel the country, playing the local teams in whatever towns they reach, the money split evenly between the the players.
In much the same way I watched First Wives Club because it was touted in a post about Diane Keaton after her passing, I found out about this movie in a post discussing James Earl Jones' career. because it's really his and Williams' movie. Richard Pryor is the other big name in the cast, as rightfielder Charlie Snow, but his story is he plans to call himself "Carlos Nevada" and get into the white leagues as a Cuban.
(There's also a recurring gag of Snow trying to explain how to calculate batting average to Holliday, played by Otis Day, a former player rendered mute by a beanball, and never getting it right.)
But it's mostly about Bingo and Leon, fittingly enough a pitcher and a catcher, albeit on rival teams when the game starts. Bingo's all flash and style, starting each game by facing the first batter with no fielders behind him, why asking the crowd (who chant along with him), 'Who gonna hit my invite pitch?' I have no idea what an "invite pitch" is, for the record. Big smiles, slick talk and charm, and Williams has all three in high supply. Bingo tends to talk before thinking, confident they'll figure things out when they have to, and if not, he'll apologize then. He dreams big, and that's not a bad thing, it's just he's not great at the planning on how to make those dreams reality.
He tends to dodge tough conversations, but he's not without principles. When Holliday gets robbed of their money from a game by their former team owner's goons, Bingo can't exactly bring himself to stand up for Holliday, but he pays everyone out of his own pocket to soothe tempers. though he also gives them Carter's share, without telling Carter until much later.
Carter's more well-read, more thoughtful, as you'd expect from a character played by James Earl Jones. Jones also gets to show a little style and fun. In the first scene, he cracks a home run off Bingo, after telling Bingo he stole his girlfriend. Bingo, of course, tries to play it off like he was tired of her, anyway. Carter's the one, when their former bosses start convincing local ballparks not to let them play, who rides ahead alone on his motorcycle to make sure the next game is still on. He's the one who eventually beats up those goons when they take him prisoner, after escaping inside a coffin.
Although it's Bingo who comes up with the idea of eventually challenging white teams, correctly reasoning the Negro League team owners can't do shit to try and intimidate them. And who convinces the team to showboat and play a bit comical to get the crowd to enjoy themselves more. Maybe white folks won't mind seeing their team lose to black players if they get a good laugh out of it in the process.
I was expecting, given this takes place in the 1930s, that there was going to be more danger as a result of angry white people. Certainly when they arrive for their first barnstorming game and the man who set it up tells them they need to drive down Main Street and put on a show. So you have the entire team, slowly parading down the street past a bunch of sour looking crackers, dancing and strutting and playing music and I was thinking this was about to get real ugly.
(I enjoyed the difference in the pre-game festivities between the black and white games. In the games between the black teams, there's singing and dancing and it's like a party. The white ballparks, there's marching bands playing the national anthem while everyone stands solemnly with their hand over their heart like they're watching a procession for a dead war hero. We crackers can take the fun out of anything.)
Remarkably, it didn't. The majority of the conflict is from the efforts of the Negro League team owners, specifically the funeral home director - "Sallie Potter" played by Ted Ross - that owns Bingo's old team, to nip this barnstorming, profit-sharing business in the bud. Even though it's his fault, after he told his team he was docking them all a day's pay ($5) to cover the cost of a bus ticket to send Holliday home. Plus docking Bingo an extra $5 for fomenting dissension by pointing out Potter ought to pay for the ticket himself. He pissed off Bingo enough that Bingo listened to Carter, and now he doesn't want to accept the consequences. It's gotta be everyone else's problem. Class issues transcend race. Or race doesn't erase class issues?
(However, gender issues apparently trump class solidarity, as Potter is consistently a condescending dick to the one woman owner of a team, played by Mabel King, when she's the only one smart enough to suggest they take advantage of the drawing power of Bingo's team by scheduling "extradition" games against them.)
I'm a little surprised a funeral home director can afford two goons, but Potter certainly gets his money's worth. They, at various points, intimidate ticket booth workers, rob Holliday, maim Charlie, and kidnap Carter ahead of the big game between the barnstormers and a Negro league All-Star team. They don't actually show the maiming, though there's no question of what they do, or the cruelty of using the roar of the crowd when Carter hits a big home run to mask Charlie's screams as they do it.
It was definitely not something I was expecting the movie to do, since most of the roadblocks Potter had put in their path up to then, the team found ways to work around. Sent someone out on point to make sure their next game was still on, start playing white teams, and so on. This is more overt, not something Bingo can clever his way out of, and it exposes just how shoestring their operation is. Paying Charlie's hospital bill leaves the team unable to pay the hotel. When their attempt to duck out the back fails, they end up picking potatoes in a field for a day (24 bushels gets you about two-and-a-half bucks), to try and get Bingo's car out of hock.
They fail, the car gets auctioned, and two players decide to go back to their old teams rather than work in a field. And then Bingo steals a different, newer, car from the guy who bought his car and flees the town, to Carter's immense displeasure. This, people getting hurt, stealing cars, is not what he signed on for. It's not what "seizing the means of production," means to him.
Jones plays Carter as angry, but in a sort of sour, weary way. Even when Bingo tries jumping on his back to stop him walking away, Carter can't get angry enough to knock his ass out, only shove him away. He thought he was making a dream come true, but it's all falling apart, and it makes him a little sick. It would almost have been better for it to remain a dream, rather than see the reality of it. Especially when Bingo's still making these half-ass apologies with that big grin that says, "You can't stay mad at me, can you?" For Bingo, it was maybe just a means to an end, nothing more.











