I knew a guy who loved sports movies. Loved ’em. Watched every single one up to and including the “Kickboxer” series. He loved the moment when the hero, victorious on the baseball field or the basketball court or the hockey rink, would look up into the crowd and find his ladylove, who was just cheering her little heart out for him. Because that’s where women belonged in those movies. Up in the stands, an audience for their partner’s accomplishments.
That’s usually when the movie fell apart for me. I wanted to be the second baseman, not the girlfriend. I wanted to be the left wing who knocks in a killer assist to the center right before the buzzer.
Let the hero have his moment, but let me be part of the victory, not an accessory for it.