It was Demi Moore, not Geena Davis, who was director Penny Marshall’s first alternative for the lead role of female baseball phenom Dottie Hinson in 1992’s “A League of Their Own.”
But Moore made fatal skilled mistake of getting pregnant, scuppering her shot at that epic role.
“She literally got f–ked out of the part,” Marshall posthumously cracks in “No Crying in Baseball: The Inside Story of ‘A League of Their Own’: Big Stars, Dugout Drama, and a Home Run for Hollywood,” by Erin Carlson, out now (Hachette Books).
And Davis wasn’t even the second alternative for the now-classic movie, which tells the story of the All-American Girls Skilled Baseball League, a real-life skilled women’s baseball league that existed during World War II.
Seemingly every young actress in Hollywood desired to be a part of the movie, including Sean Young — who showed as much as auditions in an “antique Yankees uniform.” Courteney Cox, Cindy Crawford, Sarah Jessica Parker, Tatum O’Neal, Brooke Shields, Marisa Tomei, Kyra Sedgwick, Robin Wright and even Marla Maples all vied for roles. Farrah Fawcett also wanted in, despite being in her 40s by then.
“While you see a movie wherein all of the leads are women and all the lads are supporting parts, you desire to be in it,” said Lori Petty, chosen to be Dottie’s kid sister, Kit.
Oscar-nominee Deborah Winger won the role of Dottie Hinson, giving the production more cachet.
Tom Hanks desperately desired to be forged as Rockford Peach manager Jimmy Duggan, “hoping to spend a summer in baseball nirvana,” Carlson writes.
“Can I actually have it?” he asked Marshall.
However the director, who famously never pulled punches, told Hanks he wasn’t right for the part. (Hanks previously landed his role in 1988’s “Big” only after Marshall, who also directed that movie, convinced Harrison Ford he was “too cool” for the lead role.)
Hanks was too cute, meaning audiences might incongruously swoon over his bitter and unlikable drunk of a personality.
“Eat! You’ve got to eat. Get fat,” Marshall told Hanks.
She also unapologetically told Rosie O’Donnell not to eat.
“Well, I say those things in the event that they should be said,” Marshall later admitted.
Elizabeth Perkins, who also starred in “Big,” wasn’t spared Penny’s nonchalant criticism, either. The director told her she’d failed the “League” audition because “you throw like a lady.”
But perhaps probably the most influential decision was casting Madonna within the the role of “All of the Way” Mae, a spitfire of a personality who played ball, cracked clever, and did a mean jitterburg.
Winger wasn’t having any of it and made it clear she thought the Material Girl’s presence was not more than “shameless stunt casting.” She threatened Marshall, telling the director that if Madonna stayed, “it could be an extended, hot summer,” in keeping with [former Columbia Pictures head] Frank Price.
But Winger was a notorious crank and Madonna then probably the most recognized woman on the planet.
So Madonna stayed and Debra Winger paid around $3 million to wander away.
Geena Davis was sent in to check out for the Dottie role, though the towering beauty had no baseball chops.
Davis’s agents told her to utterly not play catch with Marshall.
So Geena dolled herself up in high heels and a mini-skirt when visiting the director’s home.
“Fully five minutes went by before I used to be out on the f–king lawn, throwing a f–king baseball,” Davis recalls. She was terrible but got the job because she was “trainable,” in keeping with Marshall.
With filming underway in Chicago and Evansville, Indiana, things devolved right into a “three-ring circus” when Madonna hit town.
She worked harder than anyone on set — rising at 4 a.m. to jog 8 or 10 miles and practice baseball even before filming began every day — nevertheless it was clear the Queen of Pop had no boundaries.
When one baseball-playing female extra introduced Madonna to her lady “roommate,” Madge checked out the 2 and scoffed at their efforts to be secret lovers.
“Roommate, huh? Yeah, right.”
Marshall famously ate anything, including piles of bacon and many her beloved “meat rockets” (hot dogs), but Madonna stuck to a plant-based food regimen and expressly told the on-set caterer she refused to eat anything “that takes a s–t.”
When the caterer later asked Madonna if she’d had breakfast at some point, she shrugged and answered, “I sucked James Woods’ c–k within the elevator.”
When her panties became visible under her vintage dress during a dance scene, Madonna was told to maintain her legs closed. “Story of my life,” she muttered.
Madonna wasn’t the one rabble-rouser.
Davis was notably smart, a card-carrying member of Mensa, but she also liked replacing the cream in Oreos with mayonnaise and handing them out to unsuspecting forged and crew.
Petty once convinced Madonna that though she’d be off-screen in a single scene she’d still must keep making out with “Guy at Bar” character in the course of filming, which the singer gamely did for the subsequent 90 minutes.
Someday, an anonymous newsletter called “Peach Phuzz” was shared on-set, highlighting gossip about things like forged hangovers, Davis’ surprising cigarette habit and Madonna’s random “canoodling” (with either a married actress or a spoken-for male crew member — or perhaps each?).
It was eventually revealed that the Gossip Girl behind “Peach Phuzz” was none apart from Hanks.
The movie’s many actresses and feminine ballplayers working as extras were housed in the identical hotels, soon resulting in myriad messy affairs.
Even the straight girls couldn’t help but dabble in Sapphic love.
“All kinds of pairings and couplings were happening …. Then more pairings and couplings …. After which there have been plenty of arguments and breakups and stuff,” Carlson quotes one actress as saying.
“But I don’t remember any stories where it was not a positive thing,” she concludes.
All that female energy in “A League of Their Own” gave many movie executives pause.
They couldn’t imagine how an all-female forged could carry a sports movie.
Industry scuttlebutt suggested Penny Marshall’s girls’ baseball film could be in trouble — possibly a flop on the dimensions of the previous yr’s “Hook” or “Bugsy.”
But when a producer showed an early cut to his young daughters, who were 10 and 6 years old, they thought it was one of the best movie they’d seen since “Wayne’s World” and even wanted to decorate up at Halloween like Rockford Peaches.
“A League of Their Own” would go on to make $132 million, greater than another baseball movie ever — greater than “Field of Dreams” or “Bull Durham” or “The Natural” or “Moneyball.”
