I was 9 went it was released and I still have more emotional attachment to it than any other movie of childhood, even over Rocky or Star Wars. We had a "second run" theater nearby where you could see films for a dollar or 50 cents before 2 o'clock, so I know I saw it at least a dozen times (it played at the theater for about 3 months). My Father coached little league for years for my older Brother and myself. Both are now deceased and I finally took a view at the DVD this week after not having seen it in more than 2 decades. To call it memory evoking is an understatement.<br /><br />Dad was neither a Buttermaker or a Turner as a coach. He would come right from work to the field and would be knocking out balls for fielding practice with his dress pants, Florshiem shoes, and always puffing that pipe filled with Middelton's cherry-blend tobacco. We won our share of games and he always made it a priority that everyone played, and that the game was first and foremost, fun. We had our share of "Turner's" in our leagues, and dad disliked those types to no end. I don't know how many times later in life when meeting someone and they heard my last name, they would ask "Did your dad coach little league? I had him one year as a kid, he was such a cool guy to play for." Dad thought that BEARS was a bit over the top with the drinking and language, but always admitted that gave him more laughs than any movie he had seen.<br /><br />I never saw any of BEARS sequel's, the TV show, or the 2005 remake. There was just no point. Without Matthau, O'Neal, or Morrow, I'm sure they are as substandard as can be.<br /><br />BEARS really pushed the envelope for it's time, forever shattering the Disneyesque mode of kid-films. What was inappropriate for 1976 is now intolerable, and deservedly so. But it is those attributes that makes the film so unique.<br /><br />I think the character that stands out the most for me is Roy Turner, having been the son of a "coach-dad". I always left the theater loving dad even more for not being like him. Turner gave us a look at what I call "Lombardi-isim". Vic Morrow was such a great actor. It was hard seeing him playing a villain character when I always thought of him as the heroic Sgt. Saunders of COMBAT. When the championship game is over and the Yankees win, I picture that huge trophy sitting in an apartment years later, collecting dust and being just about as worthless as the wood and plastic it's made of. Still in the possession of a bitter old lonely man wondering what happened with his family.<br /><br />Some time back, I spent a lazy Sunday just driving around and came across a league game of 13-14 year olds. I felt compelled to stop and watch a few innings. Oh how things have changed. The "game chatter" has been replaced with vulgar trash-talking. I saw a verbal exchange between a pitcher and hitter that led to a head hunting pitch. Nothing was done about it, and on the next pitch the batter took one to the helmet. The batter ended up being OK (I guess helmet technology has come a long way thank goodness), and the pitcher was ejected. I left the game feeling pretty disgusted, and for a brief moment I asked myself where was Roy Turner when you need him.