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National Features >

  • City Pages

    Michele Bachmann, Unmuzzled

    You don't need to read Sarah Palin's book to hear the ravings of a mad woman.

    By Matt Snyders

  • Miami New Times

    Pimp Daddy

    The rise and fall of a chubby sex-cult leader.

    By Natalie O'Neill

  • Riverfront Times

    Babe 'n' Arms

    Tom was a hot-tempered cross-dresser with a garage full of guns--and then he became Rachel.

    By Nicholas Phillips

  • Dallas Observer

    The Fight for Texas

    Rick Perry and Kay Bailey Hutchison are locked in a battle over the soul of the GOP. They're also running for governor.

    By Sam Merten

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The Sandlot

Warner Grand Theatre

By Amanda Parsons

Published on July 30, 2009 at 2:40am

Like it or not, football is catching up with baseball as the great American pastime. It seems bloodlust has seeped into even the most sacred of our country’s traditions, but we can always remember the simpler times—times when baseball remained as American as apple pie (and we’re not talking the McDonald’s variety)—exemplified by beloved films like The Sandlot. It’s the adventure story of the new kid in town, who tries to fit in by playing with a ball signed by Babe Ruth himself, only to lose it over a fence where it’s being guarded by a vicious junk yard dog. The film is a classic, and like all good things, it’s simply a matter of time before Hollywood remakes it—no doubt making it more “relevant” by running the whole plot around a football signed by Michael Vick landing in a prison that’s guarded by feral pit bulls.
Wed., Aug. 5, 6 & 9 p.m., 2009