Billy Crystal can be accused of presenting a heavily biased view of the Yankee summer of 1961, and his accusers would be right. Biased on the side of the truth, biased on the side of fairness to the characters, and biased on the side of historical integrity, "61" tells the story of one of the greatest seasons of all time for the New York Yankees--with admiration, with respect, and, above all, with a keen eye for how it really came down.
If you didn't witness first-hand the character assassination that plagued Roger Maris in his pursuit of Babe Ruth's home run record, "61" holds no resonance for you. You can't possibly understand what Maris went through that year just because his prowess for hitting home runs blossomed at record-breaking speed. You can't sympathize with him or the way he acted either. The more homers he hit, the more he was pursued, and the more he retreated. When Mickey Mantle tells Roger that he's the one making it hard on himself in his dealings with reporters--"I told you how to handle those guys. You don't want to listen."--it reveals the core of Maris' struggle with the press. Roger Maris was not a media darling--he shied away from the spotlight and he tried to protect himself and his family from the media circus that the 1961 season became for him. It was no contest, but he continued to fight for his privacy. He was just a guy doing his job and he wanted his privacy respected. It didn't help that he was threatening the greatest sports record of all time achieved by one of the most beloved sports figures in New York or anywhere. It didn't help that he was competing against another beloved and accomplished New York hero to break that record. This hick from North Dakota. What nerve. "Mickey should be the one to do it. He's a real Yankee." Many Yankee fans and baseball fanatics everywhere felt that way in the summer of 1961. Maris didn't deserve to be vilified because he wasn't the "proper" Yankee to break this record.
By now you must have surmised that I rooted for Roger Maris in the summer of 1961. That notwithstanding, all of what you see in "61" is true. There's no poetic license taken, no stretching of the truth for dramatic effect, no embellishments to make it a more interesting story (see "It Could Happen to You" and "Under the Tuscan Sun" for that). We can never know how close the relationship was between Mantle and Maris, but I trust Billy Crystal to have done his homework in his depiction of them as very good friends, not bitter rivals, as fabricated by the press. I trust Billy Crystal to have done his homework about every situation, every relationship, every line, and every detail in this movie. You can see that it was a labor of love for him. I thank him for setting the record straight where Roger Maris is concerned because it was about time.
If this movie doesn't pull at your heartstrings for any reason, then consider the irony of having gone through all that Maris did to break this record and have it noted in the record book that he did it in a longer season and the final irony of having that decision reversed after his death. "Roger Maris died 6 years earlier, never knowing that the record belonged to him." Maris died of cancer at the very young age of 51. He didn't deserve that either.
If you didn't witness first-hand the character assassination that plagued Roger Maris in his pursuit of Babe Ruth's home run record, "61" holds no resonance for you. You can't possibly understand what Maris went through that year just because his prowess for hitting home runs blossomed at record-breaking speed. You can't sympathize with him or the way he acted either. The more homers he hit, the more he was pursued, and the more he retreated. When Mickey Mantle tells Roger that he's the one making it hard on himself in his dealings with reporters--"I told you how to handle those guys. You don't want to listen."--it reveals the core of Maris' struggle with the press. Roger Maris was not a media darling--he shied away from the spotlight and he tried to protect himself and his family from the media circus that the 1961 season became for him. It was no contest, but he continued to fight for his privacy. He was just a guy doing his job and he wanted his privacy respected. It didn't help that he was threatening the greatest sports record of all time achieved by one of the most beloved sports figures in New York or anywhere. It didn't help that he was competing against another beloved and accomplished New York hero to break that record. This hick from North Dakota. What nerve. "Mickey should be the one to do it. He's a real Yankee." Many Yankee fans and baseball fanatics everywhere felt that way in the summer of 1961. Maris didn't deserve to be vilified because he wasn't the "proper" Yankee to break this record.
By now you must have surmised that I rooted for Roger Maris in the summer of 1961. That notwithstanding, all of what you see in "61" is true. There's no poetic license taken, no stretching of the truth for dramatic effect, no embellishments to make it a more interesting story (see "It Could Happen to You" and "Under the Tuscan Sun" for that). We can never know how close the relationship was between Mantle and Maris, but I trust Billy Crystal to have done his homework in his depiction of them as very good friends, not bitter rivals, as fabricated by the press. I trust Billy Crystal to have done his homework about every situation, every relationship, every line, and every detail in this movie. You can see that it was a labor of love for him. I thank him for setting the record straight where Roger Maris is concerned because it was about time.
If this movie doesn't pull at your heartstrings for any reason, then consider the irony of having gone through all that Maris did to break this record and have it noted in the record book that he did it in a longer season and the final irony of having that decision reversed after his death. "Roger Maris died 6 years earlier, never knowing that the record belonged to him." Maris died of cancer at the very young age of 51. He didn't deserve that either.