REVIEWED BY: Jennifer J. Chen ON: April 25, 1999
ORIGINAL AIR DATE: April 25, 1999
"To be a man is to have the heart of a man; integrity, decency, sympathy--these are the things that make a man a man."
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I want David Duchovny to write another episode. Only, let's forget about a plot line and just go for Mulder and Scully bonding moments. But I guess that would be a real waste of talent. I have to give him his due credit; though I cannot possibly do his work justice (my mind is till reeling from the Shipper aspects), I know good work when I see it.
David Duchovny loves Mulder and Scully. And I love having him write their characters. They are infused with life and love, and even though they had only two short scenes together, they are probably two of the best Mulder and Scully scenes ever written in the history of the show. From their tussle over the nonfat tofutti rice dreamsicle to Mulder teaching Scully how to bat (though one speculates that it is actually 
easier to hit the ball by one's self after a while...not that Scully was complaining), David tells us that what we learned in Milagro is most certainly true--these two people are in love with each other. David's Scully is not somber but fun--I like to think that Mulder sees more of that in the time we don't get to see them together than we would assume. She laughs, she teases, she smiles, and she wins verbal cliche wars. If this were any other show and the male and female leads were allowed to get romantic, that ice cream (pardon me, tofutti whats-it) war would have definitely led to some kissing. But it's enough for me (look how I've been conditioned) that Mulder grabbed Scully and tried to eat it from her hand. Ah, love.
I really liked the clever tagline, "In the big inning"--I was so prepared to really enjoy this episode. I tried desperately to get into the X-File from the start, I really did. I tried to forget about the tofutti encounter and get into what the episode was really about. But I don't think I truly began to appreciate the message until near the end. I won't say that there weren't parts that dragged, because there certainly were. The speeches were a little too long (the human race's sorry attention span)...and there were a few too many speeches, period. It may have helped to have some baseball knowledge...I know how to play the game, and I've heard most of the names that were bandied about, but I couldn't connect with one question--why baseball? I couldn't help but feel that if only college basketball or football had been the sport of choice, I could have related a lot better. But I finally saw that it didn't matter what the sport was, it was about what the sport, like anything, can do to change someone.
It wasn't except in retrospect that I appreciated Exeley's comment in the teaser, "I don't want to be no famous man. I just want to be a man." This is one of those eps that can only be appreciated after multiple viewings and much thought--my favorite kind. In our daily human lives, we have so many things that encircle our lives and make it worth living. Our interests shape who we are...or perhaps who we are shapes our interests...or perhaps it's a little of both. Mulder's question, "So was Ex a man who was metaphorically an alien or an alien who was metaphorically a man or something in between, and was literally an alien-human hybrid?" is typical of how human beings always need to define things, to categorize them. It's ironic, of course, that Mulder, Mr. Open Minded, should be the one to evidence this, but he is human, after all. 
What's wonderful, what I found enthralling, was the idea that metaphors didn't have anything to do with it--it was literal. Ex was literally an alien whose love for a human game, a human life, really, literally changed him into a man. The blood, the red blood of human life that Ex finds on his fingers at the end is the literal evidence of this change. Of course, symbolism abounds for what this means; I found myself touched by Jesse L. Martin's tears as he realized that he had been fundamentally changed by love. It doesn't really matter what that love was directed at or a result of--it was still love.
Symbolically, there's a wealth of examples to play with. Metaphors can be brought into play here (I swear I am not deliberately trying to use the game theme). Essentially, all beings are the same. Whether this issue involves ethnicity or species, it is the truth that I believe David was trying to get across. If we believe enough, if we love enough, if we imbue all the facets of something then we are that something. 
Ex tried to distance himself from the human race--he was not black, he was not human, he was here only for the game. He tells us that aliens don't know laughter--yet as he says about watching baseball, "The laughter just rose up out of me." He says that his family is not on earth, but he finds himself unable to go "home." He implies that aliens are not humans and can never be so, yet he finds that his blood runs red. "It's just blood," Dales admonishes gently, and Ex is stunned and humbled by the discovery. Ex says these things because he does not want to covet what he cannot have--but does not realize that by sharing in the human life, by being touched by it, he is human. As Arthur Dales says, "To be a man is to have the heart of a man; integrity, decency, sympathy--these are the things that make a man a man, and Ex had them all." In holding these qualities within himself, Ex was a human being...and perhaps more of a human being than some, by those qualifications.
But perhaps what I enjoyed most, the idea that intrigued me the most, was Ex's recognition that he understood that his love for baseball was utterly useless. "Useless...but perfect." Dales chimes in, "Like a rose." I saw then that these are exactly the qualities that make us human, that allow us to appreciate the things around us not because of their usefulness, but because they are simply, there. Ex's ability to feel love for the game was what changed him...or perhaps it was already in him, allowing for the change. This "useless but perfect" approach can be used to describe all human interests...like my love of this show. Do I literally need it in order to survive? No. But my ability to love it, to be intrigued by it, is what makes me me. This ability to find interest in "useless" things and appreciate them is what makes life worth living.
And finally, God bless David and his Shipper heart. No matter how much philosophy and life meaning he gave us during the episode, I am not ashamed to admit that what I loved best were the two scenes that began and ended it. And thank him also for being so ultra-fine in his baseball jersey. I read a review of this episode in Entertainment Weekly that said, "David Duchovny may not be 'a huge baseball fan,' but The Unnatural celebrates it as a lover would, imbuing the game with near-spiritual power, the kind that literally transforms a person." Well, I don't know anything about baseball beyond the general rules of the game, but I do know The X-Files. And I can say that Duchovny writes it as one who loves the show. I also know Mulder and Scully, and the love he has for these two characters also comes out in his writing. There were only two scenes that Mulder and Scully shared in this episode, but these two scenes had more love and laughter in them than some other episodes combined. What a perfect follow-up to Milagro, when Scully is made to 
realize the "perfect love" that she and Mulder share. These two people are in love, and it made me teary to watch that last scene.
Let's get the obvious over with--okay, maybe I can see the first few swings of the bat Scully may have needed supervision...but damn. Why didn't they just get a motel room and get it over with? I'm pretty sure that after learning the basics, it's a lot easier to actually hit the ball with the bat without four pairs of hands on the bat and two bodies trying to swing. But Mulder looked like he'd rather be shot than let go of Scully, and Scully was perfectly content to let 
Mulder cuddle with her under the pretext of teaching her how to swing a bat. Hello, there was a small child there, for Pete's sake! Take your indecency elsewhere. The kind of flirtation that they were indulging in is not for the eyes of a child...but perhaps they were too busy basking in each other's company and enjoying the sound of their voices so close to each other's ears to bother with such societal proprieties.
The gorgeous bluesy a capella in the background, the lyrics--"come and go with me to that land," coupled with Mulder and Scully embracing like lovers under the night sky, made me feel their love. Mulder talks of biological clocks ticking, Scully lets him hold her for an indecent amount of time, Mulder speaks into her ear deep and low, like a lover, telling her essentially how much he loves her...and shares not only his love with her, but expresses his gratitude for what she's given up to be with him, to share their lives with each other. He wants her to recognize that though he may act callous and insensitive at times, he is ultimately thanking his lucky stars that he has her in his life. And though it often seems that he takes her for granted, he does realize (and here I'll steal his own words, spoken not so long ago) that she makes him a whole person.
As for the a capella in the background, it deserves a short paragraph of its own. (Download to listen) The words are simple and direct, repeating over and over, and they are evocative of the journey that Mulder and Scully have been on since they met. It is the words and feeling that Mulder wishes to express to Scully...for her to share his life. "Come and go with me to that land." Through the years he has changed her world, her outlook on life, changed her so that they in essence became part of one another. "Come and go with me to that land..." She was not taken unwillingly; she was touched by him, by something in his soul, and she gave him hers. "Come and go with me, to that land..." Scully has gone with Mulder to places that she never dreamed, and for every hurt and heartache that she has experienced, he has given her a love and loyalty that compensates and soothes a thousand times over. So she will go with him where he is bound, because he is not leading and she is not following. They go, together. "Come and go with me, to that land, where I'm bound..."
We have heard Mulder tell Scully a thousand ways how much he loves her; only recently have we heard those literal words, but this most recent admission is the one that touches me the most. 
How proper that it should come from the mind and pen of the man who plays Mulder, the man who believes that Mulder and Scully should be able to take their relationship to the next level, the man who plays his character believing that Scully is his "human credential." Every couple has their own experiences, their own ways of telling each other that they are loved. Mulder has just been through an afternoon of discussing with Arthur Dales deep philosophical questions that lead into the crux of what it is to be a human being, and of a love so great that it can actually change a living being absolutely and fundamentally. All that came from the game of baseball--Mulder is obviously somewhat a fan, but the story he was just told no doubt touched him deeply; his brain and his heart are probably still processing what it all meant. And like his trip to Memphis where he was on a spiritual journey, he wants to share it with Scully (and this time no crazy tattoo guys are in the picture). This is an incredibly special and personal moment for him, and I think that she senses it and is flattered by it. Not to mention very, very pleased.
Mulder's words are so beautiful to me, so laced with a gamut of emotions, so full of love, that I can do them no justice other than to rewrite the words themselves. And if you want to truly hear all the words that he's not saying but implying by the tone of his voice, you can download this gem here. "What you may find is you're concentrating on hitting that little ball, the rest of the world just fades away--all your every day nagging concerns: ticking of your biological clock, how you probably couldn't afford that nice new suede coat on a G-woman salary...how you threw away a promising career in medicine to hunt aliens with your crackpot, albeit brilliant, partner, getting into the heart of a global conspiracy, your obscenely overdue triple X bill...oh I'm sorry, Scully, those last two problems are mine, not yours." How like Mulder to sandwich his serious, important message in between jokes, but actually, that is exactly how we know he means what he says, and how important the message is. He pauses a little before the "important" part...his voice changes, deepens into seriousness, and then when it's over he launches back into the joke. Mulder is laying his heart bare out there, and it's a defense mechanism of sorts...he doesn't want to embarrass himself or make her uncomfortable. (After all, we all know what Scully's reaction was the last time he tried to get serious and tell her he loved her.) This way, his words can seem like part of a big joke if she doesn't want to hear them...but we can tell by her flushed and happy face that she is the happiest woman alive at that moment. And her response, "Shut up, Mulder, I'm playing baseball," is her way of acknowledging and accepting the gift that he has given her, and her acquiescence to his pride. She tells him that she understands.
And how gorgeous and touching was it to have the a capella playing, while the baseballs that Mulder and Scully were hitting became literally stars in the sky? When I read that in one of the spoilers, I was thinking metaphorically. But the incredible poignancy of the two of them together creating the twinkling stars in the night sky is just another example of the magic of their bond, and metaphorically, what they can do together. Even the "poorboy," another human presence, didn't detract but add to the overall feeling of the scene. His late 1940s get-up, his youth, his silence, all help to transport them to their own world, another place and time, when they don't have a care in the world and can just enjoy being with each other. I'd say that those few short moments under a darkened sky, standing on a baseball diamond on home base with the man she loved, his arms wrapped around her, was the best birthday present that Scully could have ever wished for.
"We're not gonna think...we're just gonna let it fly, Scully."
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1999 by Jennifer J. Chen