Ken Burns' "Baseball" is a decent documentary... it presents a clear origin of the game, a great depiction of baseball's early years and heroes. There's plenty in this movie for any baseball fan... that said, the film has several glaring flaws. 18 hours is simply too long for the human attention span. It's clear that Burns stretched his film out to fit his "nine inning" concept. It's not even a tight 18 hours... the pace on every segment is slow, almost morose... the music always nostalgic and wistful. Isn't baseball ever exciting and fun? Why is every player and their accomplishments presented in the form of a tragedy? Talking head after talking head turn every pitch into an emotional heartbreak, yakking about baseball as a metaphor, baseball as Americana, the psychology and theology of baseball... enough! This is syrupy, mawkish drivel. Billy Crystal is here to sell us all the Yankee hokum he's sold us before. Ken Burns uses the National Anthem as the series' theme song, and manages to play "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" so many times you might vomit. We get it, dude. Clearly Burns is a neo-Hollywood faux-liberal, so he spends probably a third of the film on the Negro leagues... these segments are spent chastising whites of yesterday for not being as open-minded as Kenny is today. For shame! He chides baseball for being segregated in the thirties and forties but fails to realize that America was segregated in those times! Burns falls head over heels in love with Buck O'Neil, a former negro-league player, and drools over every piece of footage in which the elderly O'Neil waxes poetic about his playing days. Nonsense... Burns would have been better off with an adult to help him edit his creation down. "Baseball" winds up as mushy, gushy, civil-rights propaganda disguised as Americana. Its clear that Burns is not a baseball fan... otherwise he would know we watch games laughing and cheering, not weeping and reciting soliloquies... are you listening, Mr. Burns? There's no crying in baseball.