This morning, I was drinking my coffee from my mug from the Paris Las Vegas hotel and casino, a souvenir of our anniversary trip to the City of Wayne Newton.

Which led me to wondering...

If there's a Paris hotel in Las Vegas, is there a Las Vegas hotel in Paris?

And if so, does the Las Vegas Paris include a replica of the Paris Las Vegas?

And could you stay at the Paris Las Vegas with Paris Hilton, even though the Paris in Las Vegas isn't a Hilton?

I'll need another cup of coffee while I ponder this.

Coming: WWE Raw, back to USA Network where it polluted the airwaves for seven years before moving to the CSI Channel...I mean...Spike TV, formerly TNN (which stood for The Nashville Network, then The National Network, and mostly The Network Nobodywatches, until they started airing reruns of Gil Grissom and company ad infinitum).

Does anyone still watch professional wrestling? And do they live anywhere near me?

Going: JAG, the long-running Navy courtroom series (or, as it's known at our house, "You Can't Handle Catherine Bell!"), is finally being given the old anchors aweigh by CBS after ten years.

Did anyone really watch this tepid excuse for television drama for an entire decade? And would civilization be any the worse had the Eyeball Network stuck to its original plan, and canceled the darn thing after its first season on the air?

Baseball is the most cinematic of sports. Its detailed culture and history combine with the natural beauty of the ballpark to make for great motion pictures.

Any hack can dish up a list of superlative baseball movies that includes such classics as The Natural, Bull Durham, Field of Dreams, Major League, Eight Men Out, and Bang the Drum Slowly, among a dozen or so others. It takes a true aficionado to compile a list of the great but obscure films based on our National Pastime.

Fortunately for you, you have me.

The following are the nine (numerical pun intended) best movies about baseball you probably haven't seen, but should. Presented in alphabetical order:

The Bingo Long Traveling All-Stars & Motor Kings. A terrific comedy about the days when, in many baseball venues, only the ball was white. Featuring stellar performances by Billy Dee Williams, James Earl Jones, and Richard Pryor, and directed by the underrated John Badham, whose next film was the blockbuster Saturday Night Fever.

Bay City Blues. Not a movie, actually, but an all-too-brief early '80s TV series about a minor league ball club. Created and produced by Steven Bochco (Hill Street Blues, NYPD Blue), who apparently loves the color blue as much as Green Lantern hated yellow. With great before-they-were-better-known appearances by series regulars Dennis Franz (in pre-Sipowicz mode as a crusty coach), Sharon Stone (yes, that Sharon Stone), Mykelti Williamson (Forrest Gump), Michele Greene (L.A. Law), and Peter Jurasik (Babylon 5), and costarring the legendary Bernie Casey, a fine athlete in his own right as well as a solid actor. Not available on DVD, unfortunately, but in the name of Crash Davis, it should be.

Cobb. Tommy Lee Jones delivers the goods as baseball's most vile and vicious Hall of Famer. Written and directed by Ron Shelton, the former ballplayer who was also the auteur behind Bull Durham, but a darker and less accessible story about a thoroughly despicable — and fascinating — human being.

For Love of the Game. The least known (and, to be honest, least effective) of Kevin Costner's trilogy of baseball flicks, it's still worth seeing if only to admire the deft and haunting work of director Sam Raimi (the Evil Dead and Spider-Man films), here taking a giant step outside his comfort zone in a non-genre picture. Based on a novel by Pulitzer Prize winner Michael Shaara.

The Jackie Robinson Story. Major league baseball's first African American superstar plays himself in this 1950 biopic. Jackie was no actor, but the film is worthy of attention for its relatively faithful account of his barrier-breaking accomplishments. The great Ruby Dee, in one of her first film roles, plays Jackie's wife Rae.

Long Gone. Similar in feel to Bull Durham but with a darker undertone, this made-for-HBO film tells the tale of a minor league club in Florida upon the arrival of its first black — no, wait...he's Cuban! — player. Dynamite lead performances by a pre-CSI William Petersen, the underestimated Virginia Madsen, the ever-delightful Henry Gibson, and the talented Larry Riley, whose career was cut short too soon by AIDS. Maybe the only place you'll ever see Teller, of Penn and Teller, in a feature-length speaking role (he plays team owner Gibson's son).

Mr. 3000. Better than the dreadful ad campaign would have led you to believe. Bernie Mac stars as a way-over-the-hill star returning to the game in his late 40s to collect the three hits he needs for a career 3000. Silly, but fun.

The Pride of the Yankees. It's a legendary film, but given that it was made in 1942 and is in black and white, I'm betting most baseball fans of the modern era haven't seen it. That's a shame, because it's one of the best movies ever made about the game, focusing on the tragic life of the great Bronx Bomber first baseman, "Iron Man" Lou Gehrig. You'll come to know him as more than just a guy who had a terrible disease named after him. Gary Cooper is his usual stalwart self as Gehrig, and Teresa Wright is luminous as the slugger's wife. A number of Yankee stars, including Babe Ruth, Bill Dickey, Bob Meusel, and Mark Koenig, play themselves.

A Soldier's Story. Not generally thought of as a sports movie, but this murder mystery set within an all-black Army unit during World War II surrounds the players on the camp's baseball team. With another fine performance by the aforementioned Larry Riley as the team's star player, and outstanding efforts by Howard Rollins, Adolph Caesar, David Alan Grier, and a pre-stardom Denzel Washington. Powerful in its own right, and especially poignant in light of the fact that the first three actors mentioned above are no longer with us.

So now you know what to pick up at your local video purveyor for the first rainout of the new season. Play ball!

Sony Pictures announced today that Thomas Haden Church, whom I still think of as the mentally deranged airplane mechanic on Wings, will portray the villain in the third Spider-Man film. But they're not telling which baddie in Spidey's sizable rogues' gallery Church will play.

Here's an even dozen actual Spider-Man villains, straight from the pages of Marvel Comics, that I can guarantee will never appear in a major motion picture:

1. The Trapster. Weapon of choice: Glue gun. Seriously. Originally, this guy called himself Paste-Pot Pete, without question the stupidest supervillain name in the history of comics. How scary is a villain who might suddenly start doing crafts in the middle of a fight?

2. The Crime Master. Weapon of choice: A nerve gas gun, which he probably stole from the Green Hornet. If you really are a "crime master," you don't usually have to tell people.

3. The Beetle. Weapon of choice: A flying bug suit with suction cups on the fingertips. I kept expecting him to break out in a cover rendition of "I Wanna Hold Your Hand."

4. The Big Wheel. Weapon of choice: A giant wheel that he rode around in. Dude -- you named yourself after a tricycle. What were you thinking?

5. The Gibbon. Weapon of choice: Monkey fu. Not to be confused with Ewell Gibbons, who used to be the spokesperson for Grape-Nuts cereal, or with Leeza Gibbons, who's been the spokesperson for tons of stuff. Easily pacified with bananas.

6. The Grizzly. Weapon of choice: Bear suit. Remember that old David Letterman bit, "Can a guy in a bear suit get a hug from a stranger?" This was that guy. I'll take a rain check on the hug.

7. The Rose. Weapon of choice: Standard-issue firearms. When choosing a name that will strike fear into the hearts of superheroes, try to avoid names of flowers and Bette Midler songs, or both.

8. The Rocket Racer. Weapon of choice: Rocket-powered skateboard. This was really a silly idea for a supervillain. Almost as silly an idea as a man on a flying surfboard that...oh, wait...never mind.

9. The Owl. Weapon of choice: None, but had a weird haircut that gave him the appearance of an owl. Someone at Marvel Comics must have been snockered on happy juice the day this one was invented.

10. The Kangaroo. Weapon of choice: Jumping boots. You know, you really can work the animal angle to death.

11. Man-Mountain Marko. Weapon of choice: Convulsing his foes with laughter at the very mention of his ludicrous name.

12. The Mindworm. Weapon of choice: His big brain. His real name, however, was William, not Brett. Cried when Spider-Man defeated him. What kind of wimpy supervillain cries?

So Steven Spielberg is seriously considering matching craggy and decrepit sexagenarian Harrison Ford with fresh-faced 20-year-old Scarlett Johanssen in the next Indiana Jones movie (which I believe has a working title of Indiana Jones and the Race to the Bathroom).

This news comes on the heels of speculation that Demi Moore -- who's almost my age, for crying out loud -- is carrying the love child of her 15-years-junior boytoy Ashton Kutcher, and reports that Demi's ex Bruce Willis -- who recently qualified for AARP membership -- has been spotted swapping oral bacteria with 18-year-old Lindsay Lohan, who can't legally drink or gamble for another three years.

In the immortal words of Mr. Hand: "What are you people? On dope?"

That's just...icky.

Speaking of Ashton Kutcher, he's essaying the Sidney Poitier role in the upcoming remake of Guess Who's Coming to Dinner. Oh yeah. That'll work. What, Pauly Shore was busy that week?

Sidney Poitier must be turning over in his grave. I know you're thinking, "Sidney Poitier isn't dead." Trust me -- he'll keel over from apoplexy just as soon as he finds out that a no-talent pretty boy was cast in one of his best-known roles.

Next up, Andy Dick stars in the remake of They Call Me MISTER Tibbs!

A question spurred by last night's channel-surfing:

Is Adventures in Babysitting the only Chris Columbus film I've ever enjoyed?

Thinking...

Yep.

Columbus is one of those filmmakers who, when I see his name attached to a film a director, I immediately give up hope that the project will interest me. He's not a bad director, and the success of his films proves that he at least has a talent that many people appreciate, but his movies do nothing for me. I can appreciate the first two Harry Potter films as brilliant technical achievements, but I have no burning desire to see either one again.

Adventures in Babysitting, Columbus's directorial debut, is a whole other story.

Why that film? For me, most of the appeal lies with the actors. Elisabeth Shue has that wonderful likability television executives call "Q factor" -- just seeing her onscreen makes you smile. In fact, I'm not sure why some savvy programming exec hasn't offered Shue a bucket of bucks to star in a lighthearted dramedy for the small screen -- something along the lines of Gilmore Girls, say. She'd probably become a bigger star in that venue than she's ever been in films, along the lines of the similarly talented Lea Thompson. (This sort of role would also help mask the fact that, as appealing as she is, Shue is basically a one-note actress. The well-deserved plaudits she received for Leaving Las Vegas aside, she usually looks a little lost in a serious or demanding role. But there's absolutely nothing wrong with just being fresh-faced and likeable. Ask Mary Tyler Moore. Or Patty Duke. Or Sally Field. Need I go on?)

Shue's supporting cast is led by three young actors who avoid the usual pitfalls of kids in movies. They seem less like "kid actors" and more like real kids than most other collections of kids in similar films. Keith Coogan, as Shue's oldest charge, and Anthony Rapp as his best friend, speak and behave like real teenaged boys, unlike the kids in most teen comedies who don't act or talk like any teenagers I ever knew, but rather appear to be aliens from another planet imitating human adolescents after using the Porky's trilogy as training media. And Maia Brewton's imp in a Mighty Thor helmet seems a lot like kids that age really are -- the script makes her precocious, but not unrealistically so, and she embodies that awkward blend of innocent boldness and childlike fear that real kids often have.

Adventures in Babysitting is also one of those old movies (can you believe this was 18 years ago?) that frequently surprises you with the number of now-familiar faces who've gone on to bigger (if not always better) projects. Penelope Ann Miller (ironically, the contemporary actress most comparable to Elisabeth Shue in terms of appeal and range) is Shue's trouble-plagued best friend. George Newbern, one of those actors who pops up frequently in guest roles on television but whose name you can never remember (he's also been the voice of Superman on the animated series Justice League and Static Shock), is the kindly stranger who tries to help Shue (though not entirely without ulterior motive). Vincent D'Onofrio (Law & Order: Criminal Intent) is the imposing garage mechanic who just may, in fact, be the God of Thunder. Bradley Whitford (The West Wing) is Shue's insufferable boyfriend. Lolita Davidovich (another one of those talented actresses who isn't as big a star as she ought to be) and Clark Johnson (formerly a costar on Homicide: Life on the Street, now an acclaimed television director) turn up in small roles.

And, as hokey as it is, I always get a kick out of the scene where the four WASPy kids from the 'burbs wind up on stage with the legendary Albert "The Icepick" Collins in a Chicago blues club. Just hearing the Master of the Telecaster snarl, "Don't nobody leave this place without singing the blues," is worth the price of admission all by itself. I had the privilege on a couple of occasions of seeing Collins perform live (both in the early '80s, before this film was made), and I know I didn't dare leave without singing the blues.

Can I be forgiven for hoping that Shue's character would hook up with Calvin Levels's car thief with a heart of gold at the end of the picture? Now that would be an adventure.

Tonight I saw a TV spot for The Ring Two.

If there were justice in Hollywood, there would be a law stating the following:

"If a film studio is so creatively bankrupt that the only way it can release a new film is to rehash one it's already made, it must at the very least show a modicum of originality by coming up with a title that does not follow the pattern (title of previously released cash cow) (numeral). The use of alternate spellings or Roman numerals shall not be construed as satisfying this requirement."

That is, if there were justice in Hollywood.

Today is Linda Fiorentino's birthday.

I considered mailing myself to her as a gift, but I was over the weight limit for overnight delivery, and I didn't think I could spend more than 24 hours in that cramped little cardboard envelope.

To many filmgoers today, the name Teresa Wright probably doesn't mean much, and that's a shame. Wright, who died this week at age 86, was that rare actress whose career spanned a lifetime. She appeared in her first film, The Little Foxes, when she was in her early 20s; her last, The Rainmaker, was released when she was in her late 70s.

Even more remarkable, Wright remains the only actor ever nominated for an Academy Award for each of her first three film roles (The Little Foxes, Mrs. Miniver -- for which she won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar -- and The Pride of the Yankees) -- a record that's likely to endure for quite some time. She's also one of only ten actors nominated for both leading and supporting roles in the same Academy year.

But the role for which I'll best remember Teresa Wright is the one that broke her Oscar nomination streak -- her fourth film, Hitchcock's Shadow of a Doubt -- in which she plays a young woman who is both the niece and namesake of a serial murderer. Wright's strong-willed Charlie Newton was another award-worthy performance opposite veteran Joseph Cotten. Shadow of a Doubt was Hitchcock's favorite of his films, and, after Psycho, it's my favorite too. (That it was filmed in and around the area I now call home doesn't hurt, either.) Wright makes Hitchcock's smartest and most capable heroine, and is (not coincidentally, I believe) one of his few non-blondes.

Known for her strong personality off-camera -- she once stood up to the mighty Samuel Goldwyn, and lost her studio contract for doing so -- Teresa Wright was truly one of Hollywood's great talents.