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Naturally there's a love interest, because a wacky R-rated sports movie HAS to have a love interest. Taylor spots his ex-wife Lynn (Rene Russo) in a restaurant while celebrating his fortunes, and uses his newfound success to ply for her love, even though she's engaged to be married. More productively, he acts as mentor to Vaughn and as the moral center for the team. It's all part of the Template - as the leader of the clubhouse, Taylor's character arc mirrors that of the team. Things start out poorly, new hope presents itself, there's a major setback, but through dogged persistence and ribald tomfoolery, everyone learns a valuable lesson about teamwork and personal accountability.

Well, almost. I realize that the romance subplot is mandatory here, but Lynn makes it very clear that historically Taylor was not a very good husband. At the beginning of the film he's still a hard drinking, womanizing lothario, and doesn't get the idea in his head to patch things up with Lynn until he sees her with another man, three years after he last saw her. His solution to this is to dangle his incredibly tenuous job situation in front of her as evidence that he's changed. And when that doesn't work, he reads Moby Dick to impress her, and stalks the shit out of her until she agrees to listen to him talk about it.

These are not the actions of a rational (or particularly heroic) man.

But of course, this - like most sports movies - takes place in an alternate universe where a lifetime of complex physical skills can be mastered in the time it takes to watch a musical montage. And hunting down your ex-wife like an albino sperm whale is perfectly socially acceptable, provided your heart is in the right place. And make no mistake, everyone involved has their heart in the right place, and it's the core of what makes the movie work. Even that mouthy bastard Roger Dorn has a shred of humanity in him. And Charlie Donovan (Charles Cyphers), as the team's folksy, mustachioed manager, is only slightly less comforting than a Wilford Brimley oatmeal commercial.

And Charlie Sheen, in perhaps his best loved role, exudes an excess of that trademark boyish charm we all wish he still had the ability to access today.

So, maybe the love story is kind of stupid and creepy, but a sports flick needs a little something for everyone, right? Major League is the kind of immensely gratifying fantasy that most people want from a movie, and it delivers that consistently throughout its run time. There's no doubt as to how it's all going to work out, but goddammit - it's just so much FUN. Real baseball is only slightly less boring than watching your fingernails grow, but if even half the games were as much fun as the last act of Major League, nobody would need the National Football League. For a movie that shamelessly paints by the numbers, the numbers add up, and it's a pleasure well worth the ride.

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