(SPOILER ALERT)

When I first watched the 1993 Daniel Stern film Rookie of the Year, I was probably about seven or eight years old. I was in a grocery store with my parents, and I saw the DVD featuring young Thomas Ian Nicholas on the cover in a Chicago Cubs uniform. My young, baseball-loving self was instantly captivated. What was a kid, someone not much older than myself, doing on a major league baseball team? I convinced my parents to buy it, and it was a decision I would not regret. The movie is a timeless classic, hilarious and inspiring for both child and adult audiences. It doesn’t get talked about nearly as much as it should, but Rookie of the Year should be considered alongside films like Major League and The Sandlot in the upper echelon of all-time baseball comedies.

Really, the premise of Rookie of the Year is ridiculous. I mean, come on, a 12-year-old kid breaks his arm and is suddenly able to throw 100 miles per hour because the tendons healed “a little tight?” Get out of here! The event that allows the entire movie to unfold is completely unrealistic, something out of a sci-fi fantasy. This premise, however, is able to work because the rest of the film is so realistic and down-to-earth, and it feels very real. If this kind of freak event did actually occur, the movie portrays pretty much exactly how it would be handled: initial shock and disbelief from everyone involved, followed by a slow adjustment to the new normal. At the same time, it has elements that are off the wall and would never make sense in real life, but instead of taking away from the movie, they only add to the comedy. It’s just goofy enough to strike that balance. Rookie of the Year offers compelling characters, intriguing storylines, sweet and wholesome moments, and an endless supply of unforgettable one-liners, to the point where I can recite a good portion of the film’s dialogue from memory — despite barely having watched it in the last decade. It has an extremely ‘90s aesthetic, something I didn’t pick up on as a kid but have noticed more as both myself and the film have aged.

Rookie of the Year‘s opening sequence is a series of shots featuring Wrigley Field in Chicago on Opening Day and fans entering the ballpark. One of the best and most unique parts of the film is its grand orchestral soundtrack by Bill Conti, and the opening scene features “Main Title March,” an upbeat yet grounded song that sets the mood for Opening Day perfectly. This type of soundtrack is unconventional for a relatively light baseball comedy, and it gives Rookie of the Year a very specific atmosphere and charm. After not having watched the movie in years, I listened to the soundtrack one night and was hit with a wave of nostalgia that inspired me to watch it again. It even helped me remember lines of dialogue, as they played in my head at the exact moments in the music at which they occurred in the movie. After the Cubs’ broadcast team laments that the team hasn’t won the World Series since 1908 — 2016 obviously has yet to occur — the San Francisco Giants’ leadoff hitter smashes a long fly ball against an unidentified Cubs pitcher. As a Cubs outfielder goes back toward the Wrigley ivy in pursuit, the fate of the ball is left unknown and we are introduced to our protagonist. The scene cuts to 12-year-old Henry Rowengartner (Nicholas) pretending to catch a ball against an outfield wall as he screams, “Rowengartner makes the grab! Unbelievable!” The transition is well done, and it is a perfect way to bring in the main character and his innocent, childlike love for baseball.

Unfortunately, baseball does not love Henry back, and he is one of the worst players on his Little League team. Henry is brought into a game mid-inning to play right field after the starter, Windemere, is removed as punishment for sneezing, an inexplicable but hilarious moment. His venture into the outfield does not go as planned. A ball is hit over his head, and he struggles to pick it up as his cap falls down over his eyes. When he finally finds the ball, he still cannot see because of the cap and throws it in the wrong direction, over the outfield fence. His friend George (Patrick LaBrecque), watching from the bleachers, memorably asks, “Is that play legal?” Henry is the prototypical sorry Little Leaguer whose team tries to hide him in right field, and his plight is surely relatable to many. When he tells his mother, Mary Rowengartner (Amy Morton), about the day’s events, she suggests that he try pitching before forcing him to do laundry. Moments of foreshadowing with Henry and his mother are sprinkled in throughout the film, and they set the tone for the events to come.

The next day in the schoolyard, an obnoxious teen bully belittles Henry before hitting him a fly ball, challenging him to catch it. While chasing the ball, Henry slips on an errant baseball on the ground, flying very high in the air. In dramatic slow motion, he falls to the pavement and lands directly on his right arm, breaking it. The physics of this are questionable, but the integrity of the moment is not. Henry’s arm is in a cast for months, for some reason stuck in a permanent upright 90-degree angle. This awkward position may have something to do with the result, as something is clearly wrong when he gets the cast removed. When asked to rotate his arm forward, the arm is too powerful and accidentally smacks his doctor in the face, causing the medical professional to utter arguably the film’s most famous line, “Funky buttloving!” 

Despite the incident, Mary gifts Henry and his friends with Cubs tickets, and they go to the game that changes everything. Henry, George, and Clark (Robert Hy Gorman) are full of childlike wonder as they enter Wrigley Field. They enthusiastically cheer on struggling veteran pitcher Chet Steadman (Gary Busey), even as he serves up home run after home run to the Montreal Expos (ah, the irony of seeing them portrayed as the big, bad villains). The boys manage to snag a home run ball, and when Henry throws it back — as is the custom at Wrigley — he shocks everyone by firing a rocket straight into the catcher’s glove, all the way from the centerfield bleachers. This apparently stuns the players so much that they forget how to play baseball, and the batter slides into home, just beating the catcher’s tag. A manhunt ensues to find the mystery ball thrower, and Cubs management tracks down Henry, with the help of Mary’s boyfriend Jack Bradfield (Bruce Altman). Henry dislikes Jack from the beginning, saying he is “moving too fast.” This gut feeling — smart for a 12-year-old — turns out to be valid. Jack is a power-hungry opportunist, and he pounces on the chance to turn Henry into a big leaguer, become his manager, and take a 10% cut of his pay. Despite some skepticism, Henry and Mary roll with Jack’s plan for the time being. 

Henry meets Cubs manager Sal Martinella (Albert Hall), essentially Dusty Baker before Dusty Baker. Without any training or pitching practice whatsoever, Henry takes the mound for a bullpen session in front of Cubs scouts and is clocked at over 100 miles per hour. He is immediately signed and called up to the Cubs, with absolutely no minor league seasoning, to become the youngest player in major league history. In Henry’s debut at Wrigley, he is brought in for the save when Chet Steadman struggles to hold on to a ninth-inning lead against the visiting New York Mets. The first hitter he faces is one of the film’s main antagonists, Alejandro Heddo (Tom Milanovich).

Talk about being thrown straight into the fire. Heddo is the prototypical hulking, menacing slugger with bulging biceps. Given the era in which he played, I’m sure he was eating a healthy, balanced breakfast. He taunts Henry in an intimidating yet comical way, exclaiming, “This one’s for Mommy!” before belting Henry’s first pitch for a no-doubt home run. Heddo then mocks Henry by pretending to cry while rounding the bases. Had he had another at-bat in the game, he surely would have gotten a fastball to the back. Henry continues to struggle, hitting the next batter — unintentionally — before throwing a wild pitch. In a stroke of luck, the runner tries to advance all the way to third and is gunned down by the Cubs’ catcher, ending the game. Despite doing nothing to earn it, Henry gets the save in his debut. In his next outing against the Giants, a nonsensical pep talk from Chet gives him a much-needed confidence boost. He picks up his first career strikeout, along with a second straight save. 

Henry’s career takes off from there, and different dynamics start to develop. He becomes a superstar and appears on the cover of Sports Illustrated, as we see a montage of him striking out real sluggers Bobby Bonilla, Pedro Guerrero, and Barry Bonds. (Apparently, some teams are comprised of fake players and some of real ones in this universe). Interest in the Cubs skyrockets and they begin selling out Wrigley, which was much needed as ownership had been in danger of having to “forfeit the franchise.” Henry becomes a diva, drinking club soda in a limousine while playing opera music and eschewing fun time with his friends to film a Pepsi commercial — during which he is bizarrely told to be more “sexy.” His new lifestyle leads to a fight with George and Clark before the three ultimately make up and go on a feel-good boat ride with their respective awkward preteen crushes. This scene made me love the song “Get Up” by Mike and the Mechanics. Henry even receives his first career plate appearance at Dodger Stadium, drawing a walk due to his small stature and racing around to score — not before relentlessly taunting the pitcher for being an “underwear snitcher” and having a fat, juicy ass. 

Another highlight is the introduction of Cubs pitching coach Phil Brickma (director Daniel Stern). Brickma is one of the greatest fictional baseball characters of all time. Some of his gems include “I ain’t seen the floater pitch since Scuffy McGee!” and “Hot ice! You heat up the ice cubes! It’s the best of both worlds!” Brickma also has an unfortunate habit of accidentally locking himself in small rooms from which he cannot escape, leading to some fantastic comedy. While Brickma’s entertainment value is off the charts, his prowess as a pitching coach is not, and Martinella looks elsewhere to give young Henry some guidance. Chet Steadman becomes Henry’s de facto pitching coach and also begins dating his mother, much to the chagrin of Jack Bradfield. Meanwhile, the already unlikable Jack becomes more and more greedy, power-hungry, and entitled. He tricks Mary into signing a contract that will somehow sell Henry to the New York Yankees — not sure how the logistics of that work, but it was a thing. As Mary and Chet grow closer, Jack’s jealousy starts to grow as well. Jack has a conversation with Cubs general manager Larry Fisher (Dan Hedaya, who has the perfect Richard Nixon used-car-salesman eyebrows for the part) in which he asserts, “You need to get rid of Chet Steadman.” Fisher obliges and informs Chet that the Cubs are releasing him after the season. Chet does not tell Henry, but gives him a speech about how fragile all of this is and how he needs to enjoy his gift while he has it.

Eventually, the slimy Jack Bradfield gets his comeuppance. He and Henry have a screaming match after Henry finally stands up to him, insisting on hanging out with his friends instead of going to a photoshoot. Jack insists that Henry is under his control and insults Henry’s absentee father. Mary witnesses Jack’s rage and realizes she is dating a narcissistic sociopath. She punches him out the front door and down the stairs, firing his bag at him as she screams, “Don’t forget your purse!” Henry cheers her on and the two celebrate before having a heart-to-heart about Henry’s father. Mary has always told Henry that his father used to be a pitcher.

On the final day of the season, the Cubs are tied with the Mets atop the NL East and face them with a chance to win the division. Although announcer Cliff Murdoch (John Candy, uncredited) bellows that the winner will move on to the “WOOOORLD SEEEERIES,” the winner will actually go to the National League Championship Series. Martinella surprises Chet by giving him the ball to start — breaking the news to him five minutes before game time, as you do — in spite of his impending release. The aging hurler turns back the clock and dominates, taking a 2-0 lead into the top of the sixth inning. Chet, however, is running out of gas and allows a run to make it 2-1. With the tying run on third and two out, Martinella screams from the dugout that he is going to take Chet out. Chet successfully pleads for the skipper to give him “one more.” As he delivers one final pitch in slow motion, his arm blows out and we hear a sickening snapping sound combined with an epic guitar riff. The batter grounds a comebacker to the mound. Chet fields it, but cannot throw anywhere due to his arm being spaghetti. In a dramatic, orchestral slo-mo sequence, the runner breaks for the plate and Chet races him there, diving to tag him out at the last second. This is likely not a play that has ever happened in the history of real Major League Baseball, but in this moment, it’s perfect. Chet completes six strong innings and keeps the lead, asserting to Martinella in the dugout that he is done. It is now Henry’s time to shine.

In the seventh and eighth innings, the young gun is as dominant as ever as he protects the slim lead. From the way the montage portrays it, he appears to go six-up, six-down with six punchouts, possibly throwing two immaculate innings. He runs to the mound for the ninth, and it appears everything will be ok. However, in a cruel twist of fate, Henry again slips on a baseball and flies high in the air, once again landing on his right arm. His arm doesn’t break, but he takes one look at it and knows his gift is gone. He tries to B.S. his way through the ninth inning, issuing an unauthorized intentional walk to the first batter before calling in his teammates to announce a plan. Henry and first baseman Stan Okie (Neil Flynn) pull off the hidden-ball trick to nail the runner for the first out. Henry intentionally walks the next hitter as well, further confusing and upsetting the Wrigley faithful. He then plays a game of chicken with the runner, literally clucking at him before faking him out and pretending to throw the ball high in the air. The runner takes the bait and bolts for second, allowing Henry to easily tag him out. This is absolutely a 100% realistic play that would definitely happen in a major league game.

In steps the Mets’ final chance, and we knew who had to be up: none other than the great Alejandro Heddo. He grinds the bat menacingly in his hands. “Remember me, kid?” he inquires. “I’m your worst nightmare! Aggghhhh!” Milanovich’s performance here is truly Oscar-worthy. Henry manages to fool him with a changeup for strike one, then Heddo crushes the next pitch way out of the ballpark, but conveniently just foul. With one more strike to get, Henry steps off the mound and peels back the leather of his glove to see Mary’s name. He looks up at his mother in the stands and she tells him, “it was me,” indicating that she was actually a pitcher rather than Henry’s father. We see flashes of Mary’s old floater pitch throughout the movie, as she makes multiple high underhand throws to give Henry items that he needs. Mary instructs Henry to “float it” on the final pitch, and so he does. With the final epic orchestral crescendo, Henry lobs an underhand eephus pitch high into the air. Heddo licks his chops in anticipation as he waits for it to come down, and in a massively satisfying conclusion, he comes up empty, striking out to end the game. As Heddo throws a tantrum like a baby at home plate, Henry’s teammates mob him and Wrigley goes crazy celebrating the division title. We cut to Henry back in Little League after the season, and this time he successfully makes a catch against the outfield fence. Mary and the now-retired Chet are his team’s coaches. Henry decided to quit the Cubs and go have the real childhood he deserves, but as he lifts his hand to the screen for the final shot, we see that he and the Cubs won a World Series ring.

I didn’t originally mean for this story to be a complete plot synopsis of Rookie of the Year, but here we are. It speaks volumes to how memorable and compelling the movie is that I barely even needed to go back and watch any of it to write this. I did it almost entirely from memory because so many moments and quotes from this film live word-for-word rent-free in my brain. It’s an absolute underrated classic, a staple of my childhood with comedy, action, and drama, moments for kids and moments for adults. Rookie of the Year truly has something for everyone, and if you’re a baseball fan and/or ‘90s movie buff, you’re doing yourself a huge disservice if you don’t give it a watch.