Title: Major League
Release date: 7 April 1989
Starring: Tom Berenger, Charlie Sheen, Rene Russo
Director: David S. Ward
Synopsis: A failing baseball team is sabotaged by its new owner to ensure they lose and relocate — but the misfit players band together to win out of spite.
Reviewed by: Sarah
A Scrappy Underdog Comedy That Hits Every Note of 80s Sports Charm
Major League is a glorious mess — a scruffy, foul-mouthed, beer-soaked baseball comedy that somehow manages to be both absurd and endlessly endearing. It knows exactly what it is: a sports movie wrapped in wisecracks, ridiculous montages, and a soundtrack that belongs on cassette tape in the glovebox of a ’79 Camaro. And yet, for all its irreverence, it swings with heart.
The setup is classic underdog territory. The new owner of the Cleveland Indians (Margaret Whitton, fabulously ruthless) wants the team to tank so she can move them to Florida. She assembles the worst possible squad — washed-up veterans, misfits, has-beens, and never-weres. But what starts as a joke slowly turns into something worth rooting for.
Tom Berenger plays Jake Taylor, the aging catcher with creaky knees and unfinished business with an ex (Rene Russo). He’s the soul of the team — world-weary but quietly noble. Charlie Sheen, still in his chaotic youth, gives us “Wild Thing” Rick Vaughn, a pitcher with a fastball and zero control. Add Wesley Snipes as the flashy base-stealer Willie Mays Hayes, and you’ve got a roster that can’t help but charm its way into your heart.
The film never overcomplicates its premise. Director David S. Ward keeps the tone loose and quick-paced, letting the humour carry the story. There’s a grit to the visuals — everything feels a little grimy, a little lived-in, like an actual ballpark in the middle of a losing streak. The baseball scenes aren’t polished or stylised, but they work because they capture the unpredictability of the game — the fumbles, the flukes, the unlikely heroics.
And then there’s Bob Uecker as Harry Doyle, the team’s delightfully inappropriate announcer. His deadpan one-liners (“Just a bit outside”) became instant classics and give the film an extra layer of personality. He’s the Greek chorus of this ridiculous journey — the voice of everyone who’s ever loved a team too bad to matter, but too loveable to leave.
What makes Major League more than just a goofy sports comedy is the way it leans into its own clichés with such sincerity. It knows we’ve seen this kind of story before — but it tells it with enough swagger, sweat, and sly humour to make it feel fresh. And somehow, even when the jokes are broad and the characters are caricatures, there’s a pulse of genuine camaraderie underneath.
The romance subplot between Berenger and Russo is probably the weakest link — not because it’s poorly acted, but because it feels slightly out of step with the momentum of the team’s rise. Still, it offers a nice break from the locker-room banter and reminds us that even underdogs have lives off the field.
A lovable misfit of a film, Major League proves that grit, guts, and a killer walk-on song can still take you all the way.
It’s the finale that seals the deal. When this ragtag team finally clicks, when the crowd roars and the stakes suddenly feel real, Major League delivers the emotional payoff you didn’t even realise you wanted.
