If you Google The Scout (1994), you will see it described as a comedy.  I suppose that is accurate enough, but it does not do justice to the serious psychological issues at play, no pun intended.  That last caveat is needed because it is a baseball film, but the player discovered by the title character, Al Percolo (Albert Brooks), is clearly a wounded soul.  What is interesting for this Catholic reviewer is that the aforementioned pitcher, Steve Nebraska (Brendan Fraser), is not the only flawed recruit Al finds.  The first part of the film sees Al lie his way into dinner with a Faithful family in order to convince them of the wisdom of letting their oldest son, Tommy Lacy (Michael Rapaport), sign a contract with the New York Yankees of Major League Baseball (MLB).  The comedy here is supposed to be from Al, who is willing to do or say anything to get the athletes he scouts to the majors.  It becomes less funny when you consider the money he stands to make from these moves, and some of the other unconscionable things he does.

Rather than unconscionable, the first things Al does in The Scout are puzzling.  As with many like him who are tasked with traveling the country to find players, he checks himself into a cheap motel . . . and proceeds to unpack the ingredients to make himself spaghetti?  Okay.  The following day it is on to watch Tommy pitch.  Al’s colleagues gathered at the ballpark all agree on the talent, but they tell him that the young man wants to stay in college.  After the game, Al manages to get Tommy alone and convinces the pitcher that going professional is the best move.  Sitting down for the aforementioned meal, Al claims that not only will Tommy get a tutor in the dugout, but the Yankees are a team of committed Catholics.  They are not, but that is not just the opinion of someone who seriously practices the Faith.  It is part of Al’s ruse, and it all comes to an end when, a year later at Tommy’s debut, the rookie throws up on the mound and runs out of the stadium, never to be seen again.  In the wake of the meltdown, Al is called into the office of his boss, Ron Wilson (Lane Smith).  Ron is not happy.  However, instead of firing Al, Ron assigns the scout to the far reaches of Mexico.  To Al’s credit, he does not quit, but rather heads to the hinterland of our neighbor to the South.  With Ron taunting him through occasional phone calls, Al drifts through the confusing miasma of Mexican baseball.  The possibility of uncovering a worthy prospect seems hopeless until the attendant at a hotel tells him about Steve.  According to the locals, Steve is the greatest living baseball player.  Al is incredulous, but he looks in wonder as he approaches a rapidly filling stadium.  Prior to Steve’s entrance, a band strikes up a poor rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and out he comes, carried on a throne by his teammates.  Al’s dumbfoundedness is turned to shock when he sees Steve throw.  The first pitch is so hard that it can barely be seen, and it knocks over the catcher.  Then Steve comes to bat, hitting the first ball a great distance over the outfield wall.  In talking to Steve after the game, Al finds the young man ready to be a Yankee, and claiming that he will not puke when called upon to get in a game.  Still, not only does Ron not believe Al, the Yankee general manager takes this opportunity to fire Al.  This makes Al Steve’s de facto agent, and the former Yankee employee arranges a try out at Yankee Stadium.  While conversing with Steve, though, it becomes apparent that there is something off about him.  He is willing to answers questions, unless they become too personal, and he behaves in a childlike manner most of the rest of the time.  Upon arriving in New York City, Al takes Steve in, and the up-and-coming player looks at the older man as a father figure.  Actually, it goes deeper, with Steve having a fit whenever Al is not in sight.  Once Steve performs for all the teams and the Yankees’ owner, George Steinbrenner (as himself), outbids the other clubs, they have a press conference.  The shouted queries and flashing lights become too much for Steve, who picks up a reporter at one point.  With this kind of behavior, when the lucrative contract is officially signed, the Yankees have two stipulations.  First, if they make the World Series, Steve must start game one.  Al does not think this will happen and reassures Steve.  The second is that Steve must undergo a psychiatric evaluation and be given a clean bill of mental health by a licensed therapist.  Going through the phone book, Al lands on Doctor H. Aaron (Dianne Wiest) because her name looks like Hank Aaron (not pictured).  During their first visit, Steve insists that Al sit in the room while they go through a series of pictures designed to assess the athlete’s state.  Dr. Aaron’s conclusion is that Steve is disconnected from reality, likely the result of childhood trauma, and that he should not play.  Al begs her to say otherwise, promising to bring Steve every day if needed.  The need for therapy remains, especially as Steve continues to see Dr. Aaron.  Indeed, the mental health professional becomes angry with Al, who lies about Steve’s past at another meeting with journalists.  Steve, too, is losing patience with Al, especially when the Yankees are able to get to the World Series.  Steve’s fragile state is magnified on the important day, and he leaves the field during the national anthem.  Al goes to find Steve, spotting the pitcher on the roof.  There is a brief argument before Al finally gives up and tells Steve to do what he wants, and that the scout will support whatever the player chooses.  This relaxes Steve, who volunteers to play, and he goes on to have a record setting performance.

That performance in The Scout is theoretically possible, but practically impossible.  Trolls might point out to this Catholic reviewer that nothing is impossible for God.  While it is true that God can do anything, including making a pitcher record twenty-seven strike outs on eighty-one pitches, a feat that would be referred to by the Christian-sounding title “immaculate game,” the question would be why would God bother?  An argument could be made that maybe this would bring said pitcher closer to God, but one can also imagine better uses of God’s power.  The thing is that people so quickly forget such incredible acts and return to their own counsel as to how to live their lives.  What is a better sequence to analyze from a Catholic perspective is the argument between Al and Steve on the roof of Yankee stadium.  At the start, Al cannot understand what is wrong with Steve, demanding that the young man, as a certain saying goes, “shuts up and dribbles,” or in this case pitches.  This sort of thing is said about athletes when they say something political that those in power, usually those with more nationalist leanings, do not like.  The problem with such stances is that it ignores the whole person that God created.  Not to be too cliché, but athletes are people, too.  Al had been treating Steve as nothing more than a commodity, ignoring anything that might lead to a bigger paycheck.  However, as Catholicism has so long taught, there are bigger issues than money.  Spiritually speaking, Steve is not ready to take the mound until he is shown some compassion from a father-figure.  Thankfully, Al comes around to the right attitude, but we always have God to do the same.

What Al provides Steve at the end of The Scout is unconditional love.  As bad as this might sound, this is not something I am prepared to give the film.  As I mentioned in the introduction, the subject matter is far too heavy to be a comedy, and it gives the movie a disjointed feel.