Since you offered your services for an ask - I would love to hear you talk about the dialogue that Greta and Carson had in the pizza parlor about wanting (and not wanting) kids. That was the scene that most neatly juxtaposed the differences between the life possibilities that I currently have as a queer person versus what would have been possible for Greta and Carson. And kids are a theme that comes up multiple times in the show, but a theme that is difficult to explore in a gifset. I know you can do it justice! Delighted to see that you’re as intrigued by this show (and Greta Gill) as I am.
Hello hello! Thank you so much for the ask, and even more for qualifying my answer as a service, bless. I fear I may have answered all AROUND your question and didn't quite address it as you had hoped... Truly, there are 17 paragraphs beyond this cut, of which fewer than half are about the thematic concept of kids, so please feel free to follow up and swat me into a better direction on the topic.
Broadly speaking, this show does such a good job communicating that ACHE of wanting something that is not possible. That's the whole point! If you have a show centered on queer women and Black women playing baseball in the 40s, then that is absolutely the context for the show: these women want things they could not easily have. The show reminds us that their triumphs and joys are meaningful because there is pain in having been denied them over and over.
The character that gets this treatment the most is Max, rightfully, and for obvious reasons. The next one is Greta, who embodies a paradox of freely embracing her identity while also completely heeding the boundaries confining her. The treatment also extends to Carson, by dint of their romance being front-and-center in the show. Carson joyously barrels down every Queer First of finding herself, and then naively slams headlong into the barriers Greta's been warning of the entirety of their relationship. There are limitations to what is possible between them.
And you're right, perhaps nowhere is this more clearly delineated than in the pizza scene - which exists in a similar paradox of freedom and confinement. They're on a date, in public, but they cannot behave as such. This is their first official date, and they’re talking about their future, and this conversation organically reveals what is possible and what isn't. The general friction in Greta and Carson's relationship is that Carson is consistently pushing towards hope and Greta is consistently withdrawing into fear and self-protection.
Carson looks hopefully toward next year; Greta deflects by joking about making it big in Hollywood, then gets all-too-serious by asking if Charlie and Carson are going to have kids. This is the paradox again, and part of why casting a comedy actor as Greta is a very smart move: Greta clowns around as a defense mechanism and flirtation device to skirt confrontation with reality. But when pressed with reality she will retreat into a very pragmatic hopelessness. Which not all comedy actors can do, but D’Arcy Carden, portrayer of a million Janets, is fantastic. Particularly in this scene. The wistful beat with the nose crinkle before she changes the subject to something less painful? I’m wailing on my couch.
But yes, with hope looming like an impossibility, Greta's the one to bring up a dose of reality over fantasy. She asks about kids because she expects that Carson, a Housewife, will fulfill this expectation, and Greta's always looking ahead for the Disappointment, to plan for the moment when she needs to cut her losses and move on. But Carson looks to her future and doesn’t see it in the life she was living before the AAGPBL.
So there’s also this underlying friction between Carson having lived a traditional white woman's life (by 1940s standards - married, settled, housewife) somewhat haplessly, and Greta purposefully performing cherry-picked aspects of white femininity to appear traditional while not actually living that way. Or WANTING to live that way, it’s important to note. She blatantly identifies that the obstacle to having kids, which she would want, is that she never wants to keep a man, part of the bargain for women in the 40s. It’s not a sacrifice she’s willing to make.
For Greta, all of these possibilities she presumes are reality for Carson exist ONLY in a completely different world for herself, and that world isn't opening up for her anytime soon. And it is PAINFUL to know, as a viewer 80 years in the future, that Greta and Carson wouldn't live long enough to have kids the way queer people can now. They are simply living in a world that isn't changing fast enough to accommodate them.
I think the ways that kids show up as a theme in the show is tethered to two things: 1) the complex mother-daughter relationships the show puts forth (Carson and her mom, Max and her mom, Clance and her mom, Greta and her mom, Lupe and her daughter) and 2) the idea that children are inextricably connected to womanhood in that time period. (Hell, even today.)
That same friction between tradition and progression comes alive in both of these avenues with kids, too. The mothers want their children to be people that their children don't want to be. In Carson's case, she doesn't want to become her mother because her mother abandoned her role as caretaker of the family. In one way or another, Greta’s mom, Clance’s mom, and Jo’s grandmother are not portrayed to have been good caretakers either. Lupe, when she became a mother, was presumed to be unfit, and took the denial of responsibility as a bid for freedom.
And then there’s Toni. Toni is the Main Mom on the show, an embodiment of Traditional Mom Caretaker, and the writers even gave HER a backstory where she would have been content without a husband, but God sent a good man her way. She is a business owner, a woman with a shrewd mind for how to survive within the boundaries that are placed around Black women.
But entangled in these explorations of mothers and children is this societal idea that intrinsic in motherhood is the necessity of sacrifice. Greta isn’t willing to sacrifice loving women in order to keep a man and have children. Lupe saw motherhood as a kind of imprisonment in a life she didn’t want at 17, and not assuming the role of a mother allowed her the freedom to escape. Maybelle can’t be a mom and a baseball player at the same time, so she leaves her kids to live her life to the fullest for a summer.
Truthfully, each of the characters has a complicated relationship with sacrifice, running parallel to maternal sacrifice, because ultimately this is a show about people who are living in a world with limits to possibility - whether due to their gender, race, or sexuality. And there are always sacrifices for those folks living in a limited world. Toni found the ways forward in a society that limits Black women and made the sacrifices she saw necessary because they were worth it to her. Because of her experience, Toni thinks sacrifices are part of life, which is why she looked ahead for Bertie and Max and started planning how (she thought) they could circumvent their inevitable obstacles, as an act of love.
But for most of the queer characters, the same sacrifices aren’t worth the cost of being denied their identity. So again, there’s the joy, and the pain, in tandem. It’s what binds the whole series together as they tell the stories of these folks who are queer and/or Black and/or Hispanic in a world that doesn’t want them. The ever-present ache of what’s possible and what isn’t, and the negotiation of living a happy future.
Carson not wanting kids is interesting, because it’s so closely connected to a) her fear of being like her mom, and b) the possibility that she views motherhood as a final nail in the coffin of a marriage that while arguably survivable is not fulfilling. One wonders if she might want kids with a different partner, or with different expectations for motherhood, or without having to physically give birth. It’s hard to say, and there are a lot of reasons any person might not want kids. On the other hand, it’s not hard to imagine that Greta would want kids partly to have the chance at being a better mother to her own child than her own mom, and Jo’s grandmother, and - absolutely, Dana’s mother. There’s also probably something about the innocent joy of childhood that Greta would want to be able to return to, even vicariously, as someone who suffered a pretty traumatic event as a teenager and hasn’t ever recovered. Another manifestation of the ache.
Circling back around to the pizza scene, I think it’s important to talk a little more about the context for that scene in the episode as a whole. It’s dancing around these possibilities and limits the entire time, and ends on Greta finally agreeing to go to the gay bar if they make it to the championships. Their relationship is now pushing, thanks to Carson, toward possibility, with Greta relenting her pull of pragmatism. The easiest explanation for Greta saying yes is her previous conversation with Jo, which planted a seed in her head that maybe the world is capable of changing. I think there’s also something to be said for the fact that the conversation about kids immediately before Carson’s proposition erodes some of Greta’s resistance, because it’s simply depressing to think about. So she opens herself up to the possibility of the joy that she can have.
Then, of course, they make the championships (joy), go to the gay bar (limitless joy), and it ends up getting raided and Jo gets arrested (limits, reality, pain). What AGONY that as soon as Carson convinces Greta to believe in hope, the entire dream comes crashing down and Greta’s fears are affirmed once more.
But that’s the show: the ache of wanting what isn’t possible, and the joy of those moments when reality can be wheedled into a dream - the five minutes, as Max and Carson later call it. And of course, this central idea is encapsulated perfectly in Episode 6 - where the pizza scene sits almost at the exact middle, a fulcrum on which the season is about to tilt, through Greta’s hopeful acquiescence - with a narrative device and a turn of phrase.
The narrative device is, of course, the use of The Wizard of Oz - a piece of media that is ostensibly intended for children, but that has captured the imagination of adults just as much, if not more. And I think it’s because The Wizard of Oz has that ache. It’s constructed in the same way as the way the show constructs the two worlds of reality and possibility - Kansas, and Oz. A troubled world of black-and-white, a world of rainbow color. The shitty world, and the queer world. (If you’re a music nerd who’d like to hear how “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” is constructed around the ache, I direct you here, a musical analysis I’ve been obsessed with for over 10 years.)
The show gets MILEAGE out of The Wizard of Oz without being too heavyhanded, from its clever incorporation of “friend of Dorothy” to its bridging of multiple main characters (love you, Clance), and its gut-punching final moments with Glinda and Dorothy repeating “There’s no place like home” as Greta and Carson numbly process being ripped back into reality and the episode cuts to black.
Home, is, of course, where the episode pivots their narrative device into a clever turn of phrase that neatly and painfully hits the show’s thesis. I don’t think I’ve ever had an episode title quite knock the wind out of me the way this one did. “Stealing Home” fits in with all the other episode titles in that it is a baseball maneuver. In baseball world, it’s a DIFFICULT maneuver. (Yes, I am one of the ALOTO fans who actually does care about the baseball.) It’s incredibly risky to do because as a runner, you are heading directly into the path of the ball where you could either score a run (joy!) or get tagged out (defeat!). It requires dire circumstances, finding a tiny window of opportunity, and taking your shot when it comes. So it’s apt, no?
But it’s also apt in its double meaning, and how it connects to The Wizard of Oz and the queer context of the show. It probably doesn’t need stating; everyone here is smart. But this is, of course, the episode where so many of the queer characters - Max, Greta, Carson, Jo, Bertie, Gracie - are able to live safely in the dream for a few brief blissful moments. The party at Bertie’s, the scene at Vi’s bar. The dream is that queer folks can find home in reality, and that Oz and Kansas are not that far apart. It’s those five minutes of joy, of possibility, of fantasy. It’s waiting for the right moment and risking everything to charge forward and seize the chance for joy because it might not come again. And it encapsulates the central thesis of the show for these characters: possibility lives out of reach most of the time. So you must find opportunities and steal them wherever you can. In the meantime, there will be an ache.
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Wait wait wait is the a league of their own show actually good? The movie means so much to me I’ve been weirdly afraid of watching it in case of disappointment
YES IT'S THAT GOOD BUT HOLD ON I'LL ELABORATE
Friend let me TELL YOU about my experience with this show, because I think it will put my recommendation into context.
The movie also means so much to me; I totally get where you're coming from. It is a TOP FIVE FAVE. In fact, the movie means so much to me-- and I'm so enamored of baseball, and of using that period as ripe grounds for storytelling-- that actually in like 2018 I began developing my own pilot idea that would take place in the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. (The working document title was literally 'A League Of Their Own But Gay.') I wanted to write a story that went deeper than the 1992 movie was able to; that showed just how many of those women were queer and how that reflected on the issues of the day, including racism and anti-Semitism and internment.
So like. I was both elated and heartbroken when they greenlit this series, because its existence pretty much guaranteed that MY story would never find an audience. (Also my TV career took a sharp turn in a different direction, but-- still. The AU where I was able to make this happen haunts me. Maybe one day I'll write it as a book.)
Which is to say that from my perspective? This series needed to not only live up to the legacy of Penny Marshall's film, but ALSO be good enough that I would be able to get over my own bitterness and regret about my own idea never panning out long enough to enjoy it. My bar was SKY HIGH. I needed it to be even more ambitious, even more thoughtful, even more willing to talk about the messy things. I needed it to be funnier than me and and smarter than me and braver than me and gayer than me.
It is all of those things. It is all of those things and more. It is one of the most lovingly-written television shows I've ever watched; the affection and respect the writers had for their material is so bleedingly evident in every single second. The cast is perfect. The dedication to giving everyone in the ensemble something worthwhile to do (and BE) is unending. The jokes are good. The heart is better.
Please watch this show. You'll be so glad you did.
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