All right, boys and girls, gather round now, and repeat slowly, "It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game." And really think about what you just said, because after you strip away all the nostalgia - for the American game of baseball, for the legendary Chicago Cubs, for Jack Brickhouse and Harry Carey, the iconic Organic Theater Company, the many and varied Wrigley Field customs, and your own memories of halcyon days spent in the last ball park with real grass and no roof - that's what this home-grown classic is all about.
Sometimes subtitled "A Nine-Inning Comedy," the action of Bleacher Bums (whose authorship is shared by the ensemble of actors creating the roles in 1977 under the guidance of Stuart Gordon) occurs in semi-real time during a midsummer match between the Chicago Cubs and the St. Louis Cardinals (no intermission, but a seventh-inning stretch). The spectators in the cheap bleacher seats arrive with their own agendas - mostly focused on wagering, but the Chaucerian community also includes a sunbathing blonde and a blind boy who follows the play-by-play on his transistor radio (a Walkman prototype, for you kids) while basking in the on-site camaraderie.
As the drama builds out on the field, the allegiances and betrayals forged in the stands render us a lesson in humanitarian ethics amid the "Ronnie Woo-Woo" cheers, the "clap-clap" heckles, and the rest of the liturgy familiar to the congregation at this open-air chapel.
So it really doesn't matter whether you're a Cubs fan, or what the 2008 season's scores predict for the World Series - or even if you've never attended a ball game in your life. The production currently playing at the Metropolis Performing Arts Center in Arlington Heights under the direction of John Hildreth (on loan from Lifeline Theater) progresses seamlessly from mockery of cultural stereotypes focused only on selfish interests, to ennoblement of the commoners whose stubborn faith sustains them in support of such human values as loyalty, respect and compassion for the vulnerable. However loudly you may laugh at their droll antics at the first pitch, just see if you don't find yourself holding your breath in suspense by the bottom of the ninth with two down, when not just money, but souls hang on a single swing of the bat.
