The Pure Sound of the Curve
There’s a quiet joy to be found in watching a movie like Trouble With the Curve. Not only for the outstanding acting, the wonderful plot or the fact that it has the legendary Clint Eastwood…although those are all great reasons to enjoy it.
Rather, look for its subtle message. The kind that beckons to you from the stands. It’s right there as Clint’s character is listening for it - a sound. A ridiculous notion to most, but you can’t help wanting to believe that such a thing exists. You lean in closer to make sure you didn’t miss it.
A pure sound. A sense of utter surety that who you are and what you do is exactly where you want to be. You want to be on those benches, leaning forward eagerly to catch the sound of a ball hitting a mitt then looking satisfied at the great man himself because you heard it. You want to be that person in a job you know you were made for, know how to do so well that no one can deny it. The rhythm of life comes so naturally to you that the steps don’t need to be taught. You just hear the music and dance.
Too often we’re the daughter, driven to be something else or to make someone else happy. Why can’t we be the person who hears that pure sound - the calling of a life we can’t wait for no matter how many hours it takes or how many hotels we sleep in or how many hot dogs we eat along the way? Once we arrive, once we can close our eyes and hear it, you just can’t turn away.
You’d think the movie would depress. After all, we’re not doing something as great as watching baseball games all day long. I can’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy. Why can’t I be the old fart in the stands with cataracts? Yet the message is too delightful to be jealous - I could be jealous of Julie Roberts in Eat Pay Love, but you can’t take those feelings away with this movie. All you do is smile as the credits roll and wonder what it takes to be that grumpy old codger with his daughter on one side and a hand to his ear piece, listening for the ball as the game begins.