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Malamud's book isn't nearly as good as the film, sartorial and baseball circa 1930s depiction, but supposedly based on a Chicago White Sox player who was shot inside a hotel
by a woman whom then leapt out a window. The man spent years away from baseball to return to the game in his thirties.
I really enjoy the movie - for its period feel and stylized approached - but the story was always its week point. The movie built up tension, drama and expectations - why had Redford's character quit the game for so long, what was his true relationship to the dead woman, what were all the machinations going on just behind the public veil about - that were never either resolved or at least explained to a point that you feel your emotional investment was worth it. As noted, I love the movie, but alway feel a bit cheated by the story itself.