Every Time I Got Overly Emotional During 42

Photo: Filmofilia
Photo: Filmofilia

I saw 42, the long overdue biopic about Jackie Robinson, last weekend. I was going to publish this post on Monday (Jackie Robinson Day). But with everything that happened in the last week, I thought this list might be too stupid to post. But whatever. 42 is a feel-good movie about integrity, perseverance, and loving your f-ing team. And maybe it will restore your faith in humanity a little bit. That is very necessary right now.

So yeah, I experienced more emotions during 42 than I was prepared to handle. Such as:

When Jackie asks Rachel to marry him over the phone and it is clear that their awesome relationship is going to

When a kid, who later is revealed to be Ed Charles, sees a baseball field for the first time.

When that same kid chases after Jackie and he tosses him a baseball.

When Wendell Smith reminds Jackie that he is not the only one who struggles because of segregation and that what he doing is bigger than himself.

When Jackie turns his Dodgers jersey around and reveals the number 42.

When Jackie is relentlessly taunted by Ben Chapman but can’t respond. So he goes into the tunnel, smashes his bat, cries, and is given a pep talk from Branch Rickey. Then he hits a home run.

When that white kid copies his father’s behavior and momentarily taunts Jackie.

When Pee Wee Reese embraces Jackie and I don’t even care that it probably didn’t happen that way.

When I realized Branch Rickey’s assistant was played by T.R. Knight and I was reminded that Grey’s Anatomy has not been good since George O’Malley died.

When Branch Rickey admits that Jackie made him love baseball again.

When the Dodgers win the pennant and Rachel Robinson is high-fiving everyone on the streets and even Red Barber is stoked and we pretend that the 1947 World Series never happened.

When the end credits roll and there is footage from Jackie Robinson Day with current baseball players wearing the number 42.

In conclusion, I am a big sap and nothing turns me into a pile of mush more than a good baseball movie. Never get me started on how much I sob during A League of Their Own.


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