Warning! This Is Not a Sports Movie!

I know I may be too late for many of you with this warning, as this isn’t a new release.  It was just one of those movies I never got around to, but almays meant to because it was a sports movie.  

Don’t be fooled.  For Love of the Game is not a sports movie.  Sure, it’s got sports involved in the plot, involved in the title… Hell, it’s even got sports right on the cover…



But do not be fooled.  This is a chick flick.   It’s got basically one sports scene spread out with tons of crap that chick flicks are full of.  His girlfriend asking “Would you still love me if…” questions for 20 minutes, Costner wearing fruity sweaters and talking about ice skating, the bonding process with his girlfriend’s kid, and other stuff I don’t feel like remembering. 

 This movie could have been great if it had been 30 minutes long with that one sports scene being it.  I would have probably loved it if one of two things would have been different…. a) They would have written the story around the game Billy Chapel was playing with no love interest involved or b) I had a vagina and they kept it just how it was. 

Now, there have been a lot of dirty tricks to get guys to think a movie is worth seeing only to later find out they were duped into viewing something that belongs on the Lifetime Network, but this is a new low.  This is sports.  It makes me want to produce a movie called something like, I don’t know, “Wedding something-a-rother” and cast Julia Roberts, Hugh Grant, and Kathy Bates as the comic relief.  It’ll start off with a scene where Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts are entering the chapel, then right before the wedding begins, his cell phone rings and he gets a job offer to coach the down and out Cleveland Browns.  He leaves Julia at the alter and the rest of the movie is a football fest with the underdog Browns putting together a ramshackle bunch of misfits to pull off a miracle season.  The previews wouldn’t show anything about football and the poster for my movie ruse would feature a wedding bouqette.  Oh, yeah, and there’d be a lot of boobs.  For no reason.  That would teach ’em.


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