Ted Williams: There Goes the Greatest Hitter That Ever Lived (review)

This is an excellent documentary film on the Hall of Fame career and tempestuous life of Ted Williams, variously nicknamed the "Kid," "Splendid Splinter," "Thumper," and "Teddy Ballgame." The film seamlessly combines the narration of Liev Schreiber and a triumphal soundtrack with the images and the words of Williams, his friends, his teammates, reporters, family members, and sports commentators to create an incisive view of the supremely talented, often embattled, fiercely independent iconoclast.

Great athletes are celebrated, not only for their superb physical accomplishments, but also for their ability to generate interesting narratives that can be analyzed and retold to future fans. By this standard, the multiple narratives which comprise the life of Ted Williams are a great subject. Each narrative is introduced quickly at the beginning of the video through scenes of Ted in his most iconic poses: majestically swinging the bat, flying jets during the Korean War, blasting his favorite antagonists ("the knights of the keyboard"), and practicing his second favorite sport—fishing. All of these facets of his life are explored and combined into the main narrative of a troubled young man who had one great talent—hitting a baseball—which became his foundation and obsession, the one thing he could control in his life. He did not play another sport so that he could concentrate all of his gangly energy on perfecting the swing, the graceful arc of his fluid left-handed stroke.

Batting success is one of the hardest athletic achievements, and William's prowess gave him the preeminence which he wanted and fed off. He was the perfectionist who rarely compromised his batting standards. His detractors pointed out that if he had swung at balls out of the strike zone he could have helped his team more. He replied that he might have developed bad habits, so he took the walk, fattened his on-base percentage, and satisfied his own standards of excellence.

Raised in San Diego by his mother, who was deserted by her alcoholic husband and was devoted to the Salvation Army, Ted was embarrassed by her religious zeal and had a strained relationship with her; he was essentially a latchkey kid who spent his time playing baseball and practicing his swing with a broomstick. Appropriately, the film presents repeated scenes of Ted gripping a bat; swinging in batting practice; hitting home runs; breaking into his quick, bent-neck trot; and expounding upon the science of batting in his loud "gee-whiz"style.

More specifically, his batting prowess is depicted in three famous games. Williams is shown winning the 1941 All-Star game with a two-out homer in the bottom of the ninth inning with two men on base, including his foremost rival Joe DiMaggio.¹ The Kid skipped happily around the bases clapping his hands in celebration, revealing his boyish joy. He ranked this home run as the most exciting of his career because of the setting. The second, and most significant, example of his batting heroism occurred at the end of the same year when he was on the threshold of hitting the magical .400. On the last day of the season he had reached .3996, and manager Joe Cronin planned to have him sit out the doubleheader with the Philadelphia Athletics. But Ted demanded to play, and he went 6-8, achieving a .406 average and becoming the last man to hit .400.

The third occasion took place in Fenway Park on September 28, 1960, when he made his final appearance at the plate in the eighth inning of a meaningless game against the Orioles. On this dark, chilly day before about eleven thousand stalwarts, Williams homered to center field off Jack Fisher. This home run was celebrated by John Updike in his classic essay "Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu," the last words of which are voiced in the film by Robert Redford.Redford, of course, wore number nine in honor of Williams when he played Roy Hobbs in The...