Was Moneyball a Mistake?

“How can you not be romantic about baseball?”

That’s one of the many memorable quotes, and questions, posited by the 2011 film Moneyball. Despite being centered around math and baseball – quite possibly two of the scariest inventions in human history – the film is a cultural touchstone. It’s as beloved by filmlovers, from the casual to the sicko, as it is by sports enthusiasts, from the casual to the sicko.

But despite my respect for the quote and its sentiment, my answer is… how much time ya got?

Because while Moneyball is an exceptionally phenomenally brilliant picture, it’s hard not to notice some things. And those things are what I, your not-esteemed writer, want to talk about. The way I see it, there are three separate but equally important perspectives on the movie.

The first one of these takes is that it’s a cavalcade of atrocious malpractice for Brad Pitt to not have won Best Actor. And it’s really weird how often Oscar winners never get talked about again. When’s the last time you had a conversation about The Artist? What are we doing?

Joking – but, like, in the way where you still mean it – aside, the second and more important take is that Moneyball is a movie about how paying less for labor is not only more effective but also… kind of cool. The film features the Oakland A’s, perhaps the cheapest organization in all of sports, and their general manager, Billy Beane, trying to find a way to build a competitive team despite the sport being predicated on big-time, highly-paid superstars.

The film isn’t subtle in the slightest. There’s an opening text, with a flashing-scoreboard type font, outlining the vast discrepancy between the A’s and Yankees payroll. It’s painting the picture for you immediately: Those pesky, big-time spenders are the Bad guys; the frugal nobodies are the Good guys.

It’s a bit of a shame, too, since there are plenty of other reasons to hate the Yankees that aren’t centered on their spending. But it’s also perfectly understandable why this message resonates so well. In life, it’s never fun watching rich people win, so seeing the same thing happen to your favorite sports team is infuriating. But the difference in this scenario is that your favorite team could be doing the same thing if they wanted to.

But that’s not what happens in Moneyball. Instead, you watch as Beane loses some of his best players following the opening Yankees loss and, through advanced analytics, replaces them. The result is something of a dream season, featuring breakouts from players that were afterthoughts, and even a historic win-streak that serves as the main, glorious set piece of the film.

And in the end, the A’s lose in the playoffs… again. But instead of focusing on that – the main goal of winning a championship – the lesson of Moneyball is that just being competitive is enough. Why is that enough? Because the billionaire owners say so.

Every year, you’ll have low-spending teams – thanks to excellent scouting, training, and a myriad of other team staff and workers – have pretty good seasons, just like the Moneyball A’s. They’ll even make the playoffs, and sometimes even win a series or two. But instead of seizing that momentum and acquiring some more stars, these kinds of low-spending teams almost always kick the can down the road. They’ll be praised, but never followed up on afterwards.

This isn’t to imply that every team needs an Avengers: Endgame budget to compete, but rather that languishing away in the trenches, even if the occasional bright spot shines though, is a scam on fans. Since 1998, only three teams (2003 Marlins, 2015 Royals and 2017 Astros) have won a World Series title while being outside the top-15 in payroll, while 15 of the winners since then have been in the top-10.

This type of criticism of baseball and its structural issues is rare to come by. You practically have to Sherlock Holmes your way through different blogs to get any acknowledgement of this fact. A sometimes overly obsequious legacy media apparatus aids in the myth too, praising teams for their low-payroll success while ignoring that it rarely leads to winning the Big One. Or even more nefariously, ignoring when the spending is a big part of the success. Moneyball and its philosophy is treated as gospel when in reality it’s more akin to fan fiction.

But at the same time, that leads to my third point. It’s also a movie about ingenuity, and our ability to evolve despite the forces around us.

Billy Beane, as a character, is about as contumacious with his rebuilding efforts as they come. He forges a new path, together with the aid of an eager young assistant, to push the gatekeepers of the game to the side. In order to replace their departed superstars, they scoff at conventional wisdom. Someone who throws funny, someone with a particular injury, or even someone’s personality – all of these factors aren’t absolute. Sometimes, “weird” is good. Sometimes, getting past your personal biases leads to something beautiful.

But it isn’t easy. Beane is, very realistically, initially crucified for embarking on this path of innovation. He’s mocked relentlessly, is fearful of losing his job, and questions himself throughout. But eventually, he succeeds in kicking outdated ideologies, and old farts, to the curb. He changes himself, learning to – despite his newfound appreciation for Sports Math Magic – communicate with players on a personal, emotional level that he never did prior.

It’s a movie about finding the beauty in the unlikeliest of places and if you choose to view the film through this lens, as I (plot twist!) do, then you’ll enjoy a flow of unrepentant idealism that you can take beyond baseball. Not doing well in school? Maybe there’s a different path of learning out there. Not having any romantic luck? Maybe you’re just not looking in the right place. Maybe it’s just about trying something new.

So in the end, what do we have? In a way, I think, the beauty of art?

That might sound pretentious, but it’s true. Moneyball has helped, even if ostensibly, in perpetrating the worst aspects of capitalism. It isn’t the only iconic film to give credence, often unintentionally, to problematic beliefs (e.g. Fight Club, American Psycho, Wolf of Wall Street), but it’s perhaps one of the least-discussed ones.

But unlike those movies where the toxic read is often a misinterpretation – and sometimes intentionally from the baddest of bad actors – by the viewer, both the cynical and optimistic view of Moneyball are perfectly reasonable, equally salient responses. Was – a mistake?

Yes, and no – which is what makes it human.

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Javier Reyes tends to joke around sometimes.