I wondered if anyone could come along in the '80s and be more verbally blasphemous than Brian Dennehy. He seemed to be the "Babe Ruth" of using the Lord's name in vain. However, in this movie, Richard Bradford stepped up to the plate and becomes Barry Bonds! Bradford must have set the record for the most usages of the Lord's name in vain by a policeman in a Hollywood film, as well as being in the Top Ten for any role at any time. He was so ridiculous that I watched this with a TV Guardian the second time and four of his profane tirades skipped by the machine in less than seven minutes. Most of what he said, sentence after sentence, had to be edited. What a classy guy!
Too bad, because I enjoy films with sports angles, particularly baseball. It wasn't just Bradford's mouth, however, that turned me off. This entire film had Class B dialog throughout it, along with sub-par directing.
One reviewer here might have said it better than anyone with the comment, "If you liked I Know What You Did Last Summer, I Still Know What You Did Last Summer, and Candyman, go ahead and rent this from your local video store."
Well, that's some testimony. I didn't like those pieces of crap, either, and so this aptly belongs with them.
Who needs rain?? This "night game" should have been called in bottom of the first inning on the count of incompetence.
