Monday, December 31, 2012

A YOUNG SANDLOT FAN NEEDS YOUR HELP...

Dear Reader,

I recently picked up my mail and received a great fan letter from a young man (13 years-old) named "MICHAEL" (last name begins with an "M" as well, I think) from Hoboken, New Jersey.

He had sent me a hand-written letter explaining his love for The Sandlot and asking me to sign a few pictures which he had included.

The letter had been sent to my attorney in Los Angeles, and they forwarded it to me in Florida.  It was postmarked November 26th, so it took a while to get to me.

Well, I lost it.  Can't find it anywhere.  I feel awful about this.  So if anyone who follows my blog, or is an FB friend knows Michael, can you please tell him to contact me at:

DMESandlot@gmail

I have a whole set of commemorative "20th Anniversary Sandlot Tour" posters and an original shooting script -- all personally signed -- to send to him.

Again, Michael from Hoboken, New Jersey, please email me with your address so I can get this cool stuff in the mail to you.

Apologies, and thanks for the help.

Best,

DME

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

THE 75TH ANNIVERSARY PF FLYER CATALOG!!!

DEAR READER,

I'm very honored and grateful to have been included in the 75th Anniversary PF Flyer catalog.  Great shoes.  Great company.  Great people.  And sneakers, without which, The Sandlot could not have been made.  Enjoy!

Merry Christmas and All My Best for the Holidays,

DME



And sign up to follow!!!

Best,

DME

Sunday, December 9, 2012

THE SUICIDE TREE LIZARDS OF WINTER PARK. IT’S THE WAITING THAT KILLS. NOTES ON SURVIVING THE IN-BETWEEN TIME.


Dear Reader,

There is a tree just past the porch in the front yard of the place I sometimes stay when I am working in central Florida.  There are lizards in this tree.  Each maybe five or six inches long including their tails.  Some green, some brownish.  There is a spongy layer of bark mulch and leaves surrounding the base of the tree’s trunk.  The first branch of the tree is perhaps six feet off the ground.  

So if you do the math, a six inch lizard six feet off the ground is about 12 times its “height” up in the air.  That’s roughly equivalent to a six foot human sitting on the tree branch 72 feet off the ground.  You jump from that height and even if you’re landing in spongy bark, you’re pretty much making your last withdrawal swipe at the ATM of life.  But not these lizards.


The first time I saw one of my little cadre of reptilian pals make the leap, I didn’t actually see it.  I heard it.  Little sound sort of like hearing a hackey sack drop onto a playground jungle-gym rubber protection mat.  Blop.  So I paid a little more attention, watched the lizard sit there for a minute, do a few push-ups (as lizard are wont do), presumably recovering from the jump and getting his wits back, and figured I’d just heard the result of a rare miss in the natural world.    Like it was a mistake.  Like he’d slipped and fallen.  It was funny.  I laughed at him.

That’s something we don’t see very often, if ever, right?  An animal making a mistake, like: a squirrel falling from the TV cable it’s running across between telephone poles (wait, are there still telephone poles?) 


A Rocky Mountain Goat slipping and plunging 6,000 feet to it’s death.




A Peregrine Flacon diving 200 miles an hour and forgetting to pull up, then smashing head first into the ground,




Or, and this is my favorite, a Howler Monkey missing the landing on the those 30 foot leaps across the treetops in the Amazon canopy.  You don’t see that sort of thing in the animal world.  I’m sure it happens, but on a statistical, let’s say comparative basis to the human world, not so much, if ever.  Why?



Because animals don’t ride motorcycles, drive cars, skateboard, ski, base-jump (unless they’re Suicide Lizards in Winter Park), play football, work on oil rigs... you get my point.  And although, certainly, everyday is a life and death struggle in the wild world, for the most part an animal lives in, with, and as a part of its environment, which for them is a closed system; there are only so many things that can go wrong; a finite number of hazards that can injure them.  Only a certain number of other animals above them on the food chain that feed on them.  

Humans, on the other hand, masters of the complicated physical cacophony that is their modern artificial world, may not struggle on a life and death basis everyday (at least not in most of the western world), are nonetheless surrounded by about a billion things a day that can injure, maim or kill them.  In other words we’ve filled our daily lives with so many potential hazards that it’s tough not to have an accident.

Which brings me back to my suicide lizard pals.  The little dude had not made a mistake as I had first thought.  I watched him climb back up the tree trunk and out onto the very same branch from which I had presumed he had fallen.  He sat in the sun for a minute, then, I swear he jumped.  On purpose.  Blop.  He hit the spongy bark, shook his head because I guess his cage got rattled, and then - Blop -  his buddy who’d been right behind him jumped too!  What the hell?  





Clearly, I surmised, I had stumbled upon some undiscovered species - The Suicide Lizards of Winter Park - I immediately named them.  Just as I was about to phone the nearest University Biology Department and report my findings, both lizards clawed back up the tree trunk, out onto the branch again, sat in the sun for a bit, then jumped again.  

Shit, was it that bad?  Had their lives become so insurmountably complicated, or boring, or awful that this was the only way out; a long term solution to what might be a very short term problem?  And furthermore how many ways could these guys possibly figure they had at their disposal to commit the final act?   Three?  Four maybe?  Run under a car.  Seek out a snake and leap into its mouth.  Listen to a Katy Perry song - any Katy Perry song?   Or jump to their scaly little deaths?  That had to be it, I thought, as I stood there trying to figure this revelatory bit of nature out.  Clearly they were attempting to jump to their deaths, and to their macabre little credit, if it didn’t work the first time, they seemed determined - hellbent even - on keeping it up until it did work.




After realizing I was, at best, anthropomorphizing, I thought about it... what’s a lizard’s life filled with anyway?  Staying warm, finding food, avoiding becoming food, and making little lizards.  Pretty much, right?  So where did the Lemming behavior come from?  Or was it really Lemming-like at all?  

It was a warm day.  There were hugely populated ant hills nearby (food), no predators in sight, and presumably they’d already done the tiny-nasty for the day (or week, or however frequent lizards bump uglies).  So, then, WTF with the base-jumping?  Here’s what I came up with, for them, like for me (all of us in the indie film world) it was the “in-between time.”

If you work in television or film, especially independent film, you’ve either heard or experienced the horror stories; pre-dawn call times, grueling 18 hour days, no over time, catering care of the local pet food manufacturer, crafty tables, from which, ingesting any item, will kill you, in-human turn around time... Yet, the second a job appears we take it.  Instantly.  Not a second thought.  I actually create almost all of my own work (I write a script), and direct it, and edit it, so I’m not going to say no to “me” after all the agony (in a good way) of creating the story, the characters, the world, so I’m talking in an overall crew way here, including myself amongst us all, because still, even although I created it and have an obligation to see-it-through, to make it as good as I possibly can, to helm the picture, I’m still a crew member.

Lemmings taking the easy way out

Here’s a video of indie-film crew members rushing to get hired on a film with a good budget and a long schedule:



When we work; that is not the problem.  We crave it.  We’re blessed in the sense that our lives are the inverse of the norm.  The norm goes something like this: work at a job one hates, wait for the no-work time, recreate.  Our norm goes something like this: survive the in-between time, go to work and love every second of it.  It’s the doing that we cannot do without.  

Bill Murray said it well in a recent article.  Here’s the salient part, the link to the whole article follows:

“I try never to be desperate for a job. . . . I don’t even go looking for work and the good stuff comes to me.  Better stuff comes to me than I ever got [when] I had agents throwing junk at me. It’s just sweet. It’s swell.”

Murray will next star in... the World War II heist drama “The Monuments Men,” directed by George Clooney. “I envy people like Clooney.  God, he works so hard,” Murray says wistfully. “He’s working all the time. But he doesn’t have a wife, you know? He doesn’t have kids. If I didn’t, that’s just what I’d do, because it really is fun.” (Murray has six children and was divorced from his second wife in 2008.)

“People like George and myself, we really like the doing of it,” Murray explains. “So my challenge is to try to live as well when I’m not working as when I’m working. . . . I’m much more of a whole person when I’m working. I’m more collected, I’m more connected, I’m more there.”

“That’s why I feel better when I’m working,” Murray explains. “Because I have to be. There’s real proof of whether I am nor not. . . . When you make the day, you can look around and everyone knows whether you were or you weren’t. You are, or you’re not. That’s why I have to be at hours at a time, even if they’re only minutes at a time, and not get too gone for long periods.”



So in the indie film world (the whole filmmaking world really) we’re at our best, or at least feel that way, when we’re working.  My little lizard pals have a short list of worries, we on the other hand may have a very long list; food, clothing, shelter, kids, school, alimony, bills, debts, yada yada.  So even on a pragmatic level our work (since it’s intermittent) kills the worry about those things - at least temporarily.  But still that’s not why we do it.  It’s like Murray said, “There’s real proof of whether I am or not.”  Am or not what?  I would answer, Alive.  In the keenest sense of alive, all the neurons firing cleanly and clearly.  And creating.  Here’s an excerpt from the new book, Antifragile, by an author I admire very much, Nassim Nicholas Taleb (he wrote The Black Swan, The Bed of Procrustes and Fooled by Randomness, among others):

“Wind extinguishes a candle and energizes fire.  Likewise with randomness, uncertainty, chaos: you want to use them, not hide from them.  You want to be the fire and wish for the wind.  We just don’t want to survive uncertainty, to just about make it.  We want to survive uncertainty and, in addition - like a certain class of aggressive Roman Stoics - have the last word.  The mission is how to domesticate, even dominate, even conquer, the unseen, the opaque, and the inexplicable.

Some things benefit from shocks; they thrive and grow when exposed to volatility, randomness, disorder, and stressors and love and adventure, risk, and uncertainty.  Yet in spite of the ubiquity of the phenomenon, there is no word for the exact opposite of fragile.  Let us call it Antifragile.

Antifragility is beyond resilience or robustness.  The resilient resists shocks and stays the same; the antifragile gets better.”

Here’s a link to the book:



Exactly.  I’m a very big believer in the two things only that matter in Hollywood, perseverance and determination.  I would add, though, that neither how determined you are nor how much (or long) you persevere, you won’t make it without being Antifragile.  That is without coming back stronger each time you are told, “No, thank you.”  My personal response, and the way antifragility manifests in my character (for better or for worse) is saying, or at least thinking when I am told No, thank you, “You’re an idiot.”

So back to the title of this essay, “It’s the waiting that kills.  Notes on surviving the in-between time.”  When we work, we live.  When we’re not working (in the in-between time) we’re prone to all sorts of nasty shit, depression, worry, self-loathing, self doubt, and, for some, any number of liquid of pharmacological anxiety dullers.  We’re desperate for a job but CANNOT let that be known in any way whatsoever.  The desperate in Hollywood are bleeding fish in shark infested waters.  So what then, to do during the in-between time?  How to be, or at least use, the anitfragile to survive the very real and brutal external and internal (the internal being far more brutal) human frailties during the in-between time?

Back to my little lizard buddies.  They just kept jumping.  Over and over again, all day long.  Here’s what I think, I think they were in their tiny in-between time.  My analogy gets a little wonky here, but stay with me...




... all their worries and needs presumably being seen to already - they were in the in-between time of either finding food, avoiding becoming food, staying warm (they’re cold-blooded, the sun was out) and making little lizards - I think they were practicing antifragility in the only way they new how.  In other words, they were thinking (mentally visualizing) “Hey, if I can survive this - comparative - 72 foot leap, I can get through this in-between time, until I need to go do what I gotta do once again.”

Similarly, but not necessarily conversely, that’s all of us in the indie film world.  It’s the waiting for the next gig that kills us.  Not the long, brutal hours, days, weeks, months of production.  So how do we survive that?  How do we manage to be antifragile while the work isn’t there, not seem desperate, when all our responsibilities (financial and otherwise) are breathing down our necks?  The first thing we do is hang on.




Heres one suggestion that was recently made to me: Reinvent yourself.  Sorry, but that’s utter horseshit.  Remember, perseverance and determination while cultivating one’s antifragility are the Commandments.  Do not break the Commandments.  Do not change lanes when the traffic gets thick.  Because you’re not gonna get there (to the next gig) any faster like that.  In fact, it’s a deadly mistake - changing lanes - because the second you do that, you will (I guarantee) miss the next gig, and the guy behind you,  in the lane you just turned out of,  will get it.

Here’s a quick example; I have a script I wrote (adapted from a book) about ten years ago.  I’ve heard all the accolades about it, even sometimes from people whose opinion I actually value, “Best script I ever read.”  “It’s great, any leading man in Hollywood would pay you to play the lead role.”  And so on.  In ten years though, I have not had a single bite on the project; no one offering to finance it, no foreign sales company willing to do preliminary numbers gratis, no bankable leading man ever willing to read it with out a cash offer.  And it’s a good script.  No, it’s a great script.  How do I know?  Because  I say so.  That’s how.  That’s an antifragile attitude (some would say arrogant or you’ve got a chip-on-your-shoulder, to which I would reply, “You’re boring.”)  

Anyway, I have never stopped pushing this project, never stopped trying to get it into the hands of a bankable, leading man actor with whom I can secure the financing and finally go make the film.  I have never stopped “pushing” during this project’s “in-between time.”  And guess what?  Last week, I got a call from a producer friend, whom I had given permission to show the script to a friend who owns a studio (in another state) who is friends with the manager of one of the bankable leading men that has always been on my cast wish list.  Yes, I swear, that’s how it happened (remember, everything in Hollywood is People).  He read it.  He loved it.  He’s committing to the project.  I’m finally going to make this picture.  And I am as enthusiastic about it now as I was when I wrote FADE OUT ten years ago.  I can imagine this actor wondering, “Where the hell has this script been?  It’s great.”  I would answer, “In the in-between time.”

So the lesson here is not simply to get back up when you run into a brick wall, although that’s important.  The lesson is that once you get back up, find a way to either go over or around the brick wall.  If that doesn’t work, blow the brick wall up and walk through the rubble.

What do I do during the in-between time?  I write.  I read.  I make calls.  I email.  I hustle.  When I hear, “No, thank you,” I become more determined.  Sometimes angrily so.   When time seems to crawl by, I persevere.  I will not lose site of the goal.   And more than anything else I never, ever give up.  I never stop believing that I have something of value to say.  To write.  To commit to film.

I checked with my lizard friends.  They agree.  Just before the first one made his last jump of that day, he said, “Leap, and the net will appear.”

So don’t be this:


This is fragile

This is an indie filmmaker who believed the guy that said, "No, thank you."


Be this:


The is Antifragile 

Be anitfragile and blow this up if necessary

Thanks for reading and check back soon.  And sign up to FOLLOW!

Best,

DME














Thursday, November 1, 2012

FORGIVENESS...

Dear Reader,

Before the recent screening of THE SANDLOT at AutoZone Park in Memphis, my friend Jim Walker asked me to speak to a group of young men at PBS (Presbyterian Day School) about where the idea for the story of the movie came from.  Here's Jim's publisher's letter from his upcoming issue of 4Memphis magazine:

Here's the text:


Forgiveness: A Tool To Rewriting
History Or The Future?

I imagine we have all heard more than once someone making the
statement: “I could never forgive that person.” Even if we have not said
it, if we are truthful, we have thought it. Unfortunately many of us live
our lives under the umbrella of anger because of some condition or
memory of our past.

Last month we announced that 4Memphis was bringing David Mickey
Evans the writer/director/voice of “The Sandlot” to AutoZone Park for a
special screening of the film on the Jumbotron. The Sandlot’s positive
messages about friendship, acceptance and childhood innocence, are
now speaking to their second generation of fans. It was fun to watch
fathers and mothers bring their children to AutoZone Park to share together
this special showing of their beloved movie. 

The parents had watched this movie as children many times, but now for the first time
they heard the voice of “The Sandlot” answer important questions i.e.
why he wrote the movie and where the characters we all love came
from. David Mickey Evans was quick to quote Mark Twain in explaining
the characters, saying “None of these boys was any boy I knew, but all
of these boys was every boy I knew.” In fact the boys of his childhood
could not have been more opposite than our friends in “The Sandlot.”
David Mickey Evans shared with the crowd his childhood, growing up
in a poor, multicultural section of Los Angeles. It was a neighborhood
where baseball, football and basketball were played seasonally by the
kids on the street. The other game these neighborhood boys played was
to bully the two boys that didn’t look like them. Evans and his brother
lived daily with emotional harassment and occasionally physical abuse
by the kids of the street. The fun of the neighborhood pick up game
was not theirs to enjoy; it was something to be feared as their childhood
tormentors were all gathered in one place.

The vicious dog in “The Sandlot,” Hercules, and the challenge to retrieve
a ball from over the fence were real, but the conditions in which Evans’
brother had to retrieve the ball were much different. Evans’ brother was
offered the long-awaited opportunity to be a part of the street baseball
game, if only he would retrieve the ball that had been knocked over the
fence. In the end, Evans had to carry his brother home, having been
badly bitten on the leg by Hercules as he attempted to get the ball.
Evans childhood and early adult life were filled with anger and hatred
for the boys of his neighborhood. He
was driven to be successful by his desire
to seek revenge on the boys of his
youth. Like many of us, Evans felt if he
made enough money or had enough
power he could somehow punish the
boys of his neighborhood, even if that
punishment was to only show them
how wrong they had been for not being
his friend. His anger and drive to
be successful did not serve him well
as an adult. He was only allowing the
abuse that had destroyed his childhood to destroy his current life was
well.

In his late twenties, Evans surrendered his anger and decided that he
had to forgive the boys of his youth. He decided to go back in time and
rewrite his childhood and in doing so he would forgive those who had
hurt him and his brother. “The Sandlot” was born. He wrote the kids as
friends and heroes, playing together and overcoming a great obstacle.
He knows nothing of what happened to the boys of his youth. They
didn’t ask for forgiveness. They never sought his friendship. However, in
Evans’ process of forgiveness, he allowed these bullies to become his
friends, and this personal story he wrote for himself has become one
the most loved and watched movies of all time.

He and I discussed in detail his personal journey, and he would tell you
that although he would not wish his childhood on anyone, if he had the
actual ability to go back in time to change it, he would not. It made him
who he is and allowed him to give the world “The Sandlot.” Much like
the Old Testament’s character of Joseph, who was sold into slavery by
his brothers, Evans is able to declare, “What they meant for evil, God
has used for good.”

Forgiveness, the key to Evans’ and Joseph’s success is also the key to
success for the citizens of Memphis. Forgiveness didn’t really change
Evans’ past, it changed the way he dealt with the present, and that
changed his future. The citizens of Memphis shouldn’t forget the past,
but instead should work to forgive the wrongs of the past. Forgiveness
will allow us to live in the present and build for the future.
Jim Walker

Letter From the Publisher
Seek the Peace and Prosperity of the City in which I have placed you.
Jeremiah 29:7
14 / 4Memphis


Thanks for reading and check back soon.  And sign up to follow!

Best,

DME

Friday, October 26, 2012

THE SANDLOT TOUR, AUTOZONE PARK, MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE - OCTOBER 2012…


Dear Reader,

In a word… it was AWESOME!  

Once again, with only a few short promotional pieces on local Radio and TV, the fans came out in droves.  Kids, parents, grandparents, young adults, adolescents, toddlers and babies, it just doesn’t seem to matter in the least how old anyone is, the overwhelming love for The Sandlot completely transcends age, and, apparently, time itself.

After an 800 mile drive from Florida to Memphis, with navigator Stacey and super-adventure-travel-partner-protector GSD, Maverick, we arrived at the Marriott residence Inn in downtown Memphis on Wednesday October 17th; gratefully just three blocks from AutoZone Park, home of the Memphis Red Birds.

My good friend, and partner for this special screening, Jim Walker, met us there and showed us the posters, mini-posters, t-shirts and bound copies of the original script he’d had made up for the event (the profits going to benefit The Palmer Home for Children, The Stax Music Academy and St. Jude’s Hospital for Children).  I’ve posted pictures here – the stuff was just perfect! 



 I was encouraged, to say the least, that if in the event few people showed up, at least the fans that did would have a chance to take home some really top quality Sandlot memorabilia.

The next day, Thursday, I met up with local FOX 13 journalist Earle Farrell, a big teddy bear of a man originally from Texas, and one of the best local interest reporters ever.  We talked in the stands of AutoZone Park and he interviewed me about The Sandlot and the upcoming screening.  Here’s a link to the interview that aired locally that day and early Friday:




It was at the interview that I first got a look at the incredible JumboTron in the outfield at AutoZone Park.  IT’S 60 FEET WIDE!  I’ve seen The Sandlot a thousand times on some very big movie screens, but not THAT big!  And get this; during the interview we tested the DVD to be sure it would play correctly.  It did.  In HD!  Yes, the screening was going to take place, essentially, on a 60-foot wide HD flat screen TV.  Incredible.  Again I was encouraged that the screening itself would look great, but seriously began to worry if anyone was going to show up, because if they didn’t, they were gonna miss out on the best screening of The Sandlot ever.



After the TV spot, I met up with the Director of Marketing for Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, Christine Lewison, whom I had met via email and phone but never in person.  This was a big deal for the both of us because the screening was partly a test to see if anyone would show up (or at least how many people), and, more importantly, a measuring stick for the size of their plans for next year’s 20th anniversary of The Sandlot. 

Jim Walker had set up an appearance for me at a local school, Presbyterian Day School, to speak to a group of sixth grade young men about The Sandlot, because, serendipitously (there just is no such thing as a coincidence) their teacher, Braxton Brady (great name), I was told, had been employing The Sandlot as a part of their curriculum to teach about the importance and value of friendship, acceptance and the virtue of being a true friend, “Leave no man behind.”

They were an exceptionally well-behaved and polite group of young men.  Jim Walker introduced me by asking them as a group, “How many of you have seen The Sandlot?”  They all raised their hands.  He then asked, “How many of you have seen The Sandlot more than once?”  They all raised their hands again.  He then asked, “How many of you has seen it more than ten or twenty times?”  Once more, they all raised their hands!  That was a great moment.

I recounted for them the real life events in my childhood that inspired the story, which, they were not a little surprised to learn, were not filled with fun and friendship like the movie is. 

When I was a kid we lived in a lower middle class, very racially integrated section of the north eastern San Fernando Valley outside Los Angeles.  None of the kids on the block liked us (me or my little brother).  In fact they beat the crap out of us on a regular basis.  Bullies all.

During whatever sports season was current (basketball, football, baseball) they would all play that sport down the block at the end of the street.  There, on a corner, was a house with a six foot high brick wall, behind which lived a notoriously vicious dog named, believe it or not, “Hercules.”  We were never invited to join in.  Never asked to play.  Never included, especially during baseball season – everyone’s favorite.

Jim Walker, who (amongst other pursuits) is the publisher of 4Memphis Magazine, wrote his publisher’s column about my inspiration for The Sandlot and the story I told the students at PDS.  Here it is, reprinted by permission:


Forgiveness: A Tool To Rewriting History Or The Future?

I imagine we have all heard more than once someone making the statement: “I could never forgive that person.”  Even if we have not said it, if we are truthful, we have thought it.  Unfortunately many of us live our lives under the umbrella of anger because of some condition or memory of our past.

Last month we announced that 4Memphis was bringing David Mickey Evans the writer/director/voice of “The Sandlot” to AutoZone Park for a special screening of the film on the Jumbotron. The Sandlot’s positive messages about friendship, acceptance and childhood innocence, are now speaking to their second generation of fans. It was fun to watch fathers and mothers bring their children to AutoZone Park to share together this special showing of their beloved movie. The parents had watched this movie as children many times, but now for the first time they heard the voice of “The Sandlot” answer important questions i.e. why he wrote the movie and where the characters we all love came from. David Mickey Evans was quick to quote Mark Twain in explaining the characters, saying, “None of these boys was any boy I knew, but all of these boys was every boy I knew.”  In fact the boys of his childhood could not have been more opposite than our friends in “The Sandlot.”

David Mickey Evans shared with the crowd his childhood, growing up in a poor, multicultural section of Los Angeles. It was a neighborhood where the kids on the street played baseball, football and basketball seasonally. The other game these neighborhood boys played was to bully the two boys that didn’t look like them. Evans and his brother lived daily with emotional harassment and occasionally physical abuse by the kids of the street. The fun of the neighborhood pick up game was not theirs to enjoy; it was something to be feared as their childhood tormentors were all gathered in one place.

The vicious dog in “The Sandlot,” Hercules, and the challenge to retrieve a ball from over the fence were real, but the conditions in which Evans' brother had to retrieve the ball were much different. Evans’ brother was offered the long-awaited opportunity to be a part of the street baseball game, if only he would retrieve the ball that had been knocked over the fence. In the end, Evans had to carry his brother home, having been badly bitten on the leg by Hercules as he attempted to get the ball.

Evans childhood and early adult life were filled with anger and hatred for the boys of his neighborhood. He was driven to be successful by his desire to seek revenge on the boys of his youth. Like many of us, Evans felt if he made enough money or had enough power he could somehow punish the boys of his neighborhood, even if that punishment was to only show them how wrong they had been for not being his friend. His anger and drive to be successful did not serve him well as an adult. He was only allowing the abuse that had destroyed his childhood to destroy his current life was well.

In his late twenties, Evans surrendered his anger and decided that he had to forgive the boys of his youth. He decided to go back in time and rewrite his childhood and in doing so he would forgive those who had hurt him and his brother. “The Sandlot” was born. He wrote the kids as friends and heroes, playing together and overcoming a great obstacle. He knows nothing of what happened to the boys of his youth. They didn’t ask for forgiveness. They never sought his friendship. However, in Evans' process of forgiveness, he allowed these bullies to become his friends, and this personal story he wrote for himself has become one the most loved and watched movies of all time.

He and I discussed in detail his personal journey, and he would tell you that although he would not wish his childhood on anyone, if he had the actual ability to go back in time to change it, he would not. It made him who he is and allowed him to give the world “The Sandlot.” Much like the Old Testament’s character of Joseph, who was sold into slavery by his brothers, Evans is able to declare, “What they meant for evil, God has used for good.”

Forgiveness, the key to Evans' and Joseph's success is also the key to success for the citizens of Memphis. Forgiveness didn’t really change Evans' past, it changed the way he dealt with the present, and that changed his future. The citizens of Memphis shouldn’t forget the past, but instead should work to forgive the wrongs of the past. Forgiveness will allow us to live in the present and build for the future.


Seek the Peace and Prosperity of Memphis


Well said, Jim.  Thanks for the good words.

After we left PDS, I did a phone-in interview with a local sports radio program.  A short piece, maybe 5 minutes, but it was fun and helped to get the word out about the screening a little more.  Or so I hoped.

Later in the day, I met up with Jim Walker and Earle Farrell again at their local AM radio station.  They graciously invited me to co-host with them and talk about The Sandlot and promote the screening for the next night.

Then it was off to St. Jude’s Research Hospital for Children.  We were given a private tour of the facility, which is a city unto itself.  I’ve spent my share of time in Children’s Hospitals in the past, but this place is almost beyond description – a place of endless hope and healing. I was very grateful the screening was going to in some small way support them.

After that we visited The Stax Music Academy - home of world famous Memphis R&B.  In a word, it “rocked!”  The students there are an intensely talented bunch.

About five o’clock we finally arrived at AutoZone Park and set up the merchandise in the breezeway and got ready for the screening.  Christine was a bit worried; and with good reason – we had only pre-sold a hundred or so tickets, which was disappointing to say the least.  As it got closer to screening time, people began to trickle in.  Then more.  Then more… and more and more and more!

By the time we were 30 minutes out from the screening several thousand fans had shown up!  And all of them with very little promotion from only a day or two before hand.  I started signing autographs and didn’t stop until I hosted a Sandlot trivia contest down on the field.  With every question hundreds of hands shot up in the air hoping to be picked to answer the question.  With good reason too, my friend at P.F. Flyer’s, Erin Norsen, had provided us with a stack of gift certificates, each for a free, authentic pair of P.F. Flyer sneakers.  The winners were floating two feet off the ground when I handed them their certificates.

Finally the screening began, and I was signing posters, DVD’s, t-shirts and scripts during the entire time.  I ducked away once to watch the audience “watching” the movie.  It was with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction (and I have to admit, pride – but the good kind) that I saw them all as quiet as church mice and still as stone; intently watching and totally enjoying the film.  Again, the effect of the timelessness of the story on audiences never ceases to amaze me.

I stayed around after the screening for several hours signing memorabilia and shaking hands with fans and posing for pictures with kids and families.  It just doesn’t get any better than that.

I’ll let the pictures do the talking, these were all taken by Stacey McGillis:

















































































When all was said and done, I noticed Christine in a sort of world of wonder; and she said (and I’m paraphrasing here) “This was incredible… I thought maybe a hundred people would show up.”

“I know, right?” I said, because I always have that thought as well before a screening. “If we screen it, they will come.”  I said, then asked, “So, are we on for next year?”

“Oh, definitely.”  She said.

Look for Fox to make an announcement sometime in December about their plans for the 20th anniversary of The Sandlot.  I, for one, can’t wait.

Thanks to everyone in Memphis who helped out with the screening and especially Kellie Grabert at AutoZone Park, Jim Walker, Christine Lewison from Fox for making the event the great success it was.

Thanks for reading and check back soon.  And sign up to follow!!!

Best as always,

DME