It's Sunday morning at 11 in the Bridesburg section of the city, in the local Boys and Girls club. There are about 60 people in the gym, all of them men, all of them white, aged from their teens to early eighties, lined up in rows and playing instruments.
Amid the scads of writing and commentary that were amassed in the immediate aftermath of Sept. 11, one of the most lucid insights came from Stephen King in a 272-word missive for the New York Times Magazine: "People keep saying 'like a movie,' 'like a book,' 'like a war zone,' and I keep thinking: No, not at all like a movie or a book -- that's no computer-generated image, because you can't see any wash or blur in the background.
You know everything that will happen in this movie: There will be hackneyed
and racist portrayals of the Chicago slums; there will be a white ne'er-do-well
who is forced to coach the Bad News Bears; he will inspire them; they will
inspire him; some kid will die; the team will win the championship; and Keanu
Reeves will seem about as dense as a cinderblock.