Alaska Employment Law

While the Celtics were merrily crushing the Magic in Game 3 of their playoff, while Sox pitcher Dice-K Matsuzaka was pitching an improbable one-hitter against the National League Champion Phillies, I was at the Loeb Drama Center in Cambridge watching ART’s new musical, “Johnny Baseball.”  This is a fluffy piece of theatre whose central thesis links the 86-year failure of the Red Sox to win a World Series with the racist policies of the general manager Joe Cronin and the generally inebriated owner, Tom Yawkey (and not, thank you very much, with the sale of Babe Ruth to the Yankees).

Now,  I know that sounds pretty serious (I am tempted to say it sounds perfectly dreadful), but the mood of the show is in fact mostly lighthearted.  You can buy Fenway Franks, beer in beer cups, and peanuts and Crackerjack, and take them all to your seat during the show.  There are something like 40 songs, most of them bright and not memorable.
The plot?  Well there is a modern Greek chorus consisting of about a dozen fans sitting in Fenway Park in the waning innings of Game 4 of the Yankees-Red Sox American League Championship Series in 2004.   They’re pretty funny.   In the stands, an old-timer takes a 5th grader aside to explain why the Sox have had such bad luck over the years, and begins the tale of Johnny O’Brien, ace Red Sox pitcher from 1920 or so.   While at a brothel with Babe Ruth, Johnny meets Daisy Wyatt (played by Stephanie Umoh, the only member of the cast to whom I tip my Red Sox cap), a talented black singer – mind you, that is the only talent she displays; she’s “not THAT kind of girl” she reminds the Babe more than once.  Johnny and Daisy fall in love.   Smitten, Johnny even goes to the library (!) to verify that interracial marriage is not illegal in Massachusetts.  (Wow.   The library.  Young love, or what?)   Predictably, the Red Sox discourage their rookie star from “fraternizing with a colored,” and Daisy leaves for New York to pursue her singing career at a vaudeville house.
Heartbroken, Johnny forgets how to pitch, and his career is brief.  The lovers meet again around 1948, with important consequences.   Meanwhile, back in 2004, the fans at Fenway watch as the immortal Dave Roberts steals second and as Big Papi wins the game with a mighty home run.   The old man’s story comes to an end; the curse is lifted.   The closing number, which seems to be about how baseball is a game for everyone, is a weird combination of “baseball is America’s sport” and “racism is bad.”   Bizarre.   Songcraft does not permit the intelligent joining of those themes in a single tune.

I suggest you bring an 8-year old and wear a baseball cap.  Despite a good turnout, there were only three of us with caps in the theatre, and one was a Cubs hat.