Abbi Jacobson really can play baseball, she insisted. Just not when the cameras are rolling. “I fully get the yips when someone is watching me,” she told me.
This was on a recent weekday morning, on a shady bench with a view of the ball fields in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park. Jacobson lives nearby, in an apartment she shares together with her fiancée, the “For All Mankind” actress Jodi Balfour. This morning, she hadn’t come to the fields to play, which was good — the diamonds swarmed with little kids. (It was good, too, because while Jacobson can play, I can’t, though she did offer to show me.) And truthfully, she deserved to enjoy her off season.
In “A League of Their Own,” arriving Aug. 12 on Amazon Prime Video, Jacobson stars as Carson Shaw, the catcher for the Rockford Peaches. Carson is an invented character, however the Peaches, a team from the All-American Girls Skilled Baseball League, which debuted in 1943, are delightfully real. For five rainy months, on location in Pittsburgh, Jacobson, 38, needed to catch, throw, hit and slide into base. Is a few of this computer-generated magic? Sure, but not all. Which implies that Jacobson played while plenty of individuals were watching. And she or he played well.
“She’s really good,” said Will Graham, who created the series together with her. “Abbi is continually self-effacing and self-deprecating but is definitely a badass.”
Carson, a talented, anxious woman, becomes the team’s de facto leader. As a creator and executive producer, in addition to the series’s star, Jacobson led a team, too, onscreen and off. This is figure that she has been doing since her mid 20s, when she and Ilana Glazer created and eventually oversaw the giddy, unladylike comedy “Broad City.” On that show, she became a frontrunner roughly by accident. On “A League of Their Own,” which was inspired by Penny Marshall’s 1992 film, Jacobson led from the get-go and with purpose, infusing the script together with her own ideas about what leadership can seem like.
“The stories that I would like to inform are about how I’m a messy person, and I’m insecure on a regular basis,” she said. “After which what if essentially the most insecure, unsure person is the leader? What if the messy person gets to own herself?”
So is Carson’s story her story?
“Sort of,” she said, squinting against the sun.
Jacobson, who has described herself as an introvert masquerading as an extrovert, is approachable but in addition watchful, an observer before she is a participant. Even within the midst of animated conversation, she has an attitude that means that in the event you were to go away her alone with a book, or a sketch pad, or possibly her dog, Desi, that may be high-quality, too.
Her favorite pastime: “I prefer to go and sit in a really populated area with like a book. Alone,” she said.
On that morning, she wore a white tank top and paint-stained pants, however the stains were pre-applied and deliberate, sloppiness become fashion. The bag she carried was Chanel. She didn’t look quite a bit like a baseball player, but she did seem like a lady who had grow to be comfortable in her own skin, who had cleaned up most of her private mess and put the remainder of it to skilled use.
“She’s a boss,” said the author and comedian Phoebe Robinson, a friend. “And she or he knows herself in her core.”
Jacobson grew up in a Philadelphia suburb, the youngest of two children in a Reform Jewish family. She played sports throughout her childhood — softball, basketball, travel soccer — until she gave them up for jam bands and weed.
“That team mentality was very much my childhood,” she said.
After art school, she moved to Recent York to grow to be a dramatic actress, then veered into comedy through improv classes on the Upright Residents Brigade. She and Glazer wanted to affix a house improv team, but team after team rejected them. In order that they created “Broad City” as a substitute, which ran first as an online series after which for five seasons on Comedy Central. A “Girls” without the gloss, trailing pot smoke because it went, it followed its protagonists, Abbi and Ilana, as they blazed a zigzag trail through young maturity. The Recent Yorker called the show, lovingly, a “bra-mance.”
For Jacobson, the show was each an expert development seminar and a type of therapy. Through writing and playing a version of herself, she emerged more confident, less anxious.
“Having this receipt of her anxiety within the character allowed her to have a look at it and grow in a unique direction,” Glazer said.
In 2017, when “Broad City” had two seasons to go, Graham (“Mozart within the Jungle”) invited Jacobson to dinner. He had recently secured the rights to “A League of Their Own,” a movie he had loved as a baby. He thought it could make an important series, with a couple of changes. The queerness of some characters — rendered within the movie through blink-and-you-miss-it subtext — should be more overt this time. Within the film, in a scene that lasts just seconds, a Black woman returns a foul ball with force and accuracy, a nod to the league’s segregation. This, too, deserved more attention.
Graham had pursued Jacobson, he said, for her integrity, her smarts, her flustered, nervy optimism. He wanted the experience of constructing the show to be joyful. And he wanted the stories it told — particularly the queer stories — to convey joy, too. He sensed that Jacobson, who got here out in her mid 30s, could deliver.
“She’s so funny, and in addition so emotionally honest — and so unafraid of being emotionally honest,” Graham said.
As Jacobson finished the ultimate seasons of “Broad City,” development began on the brand new series. She and Graham threw themselves into research, talking to the a number of the surviving women who had played within the All-American Girls Skilled Baseball League or within the Negro leagues. In addition they spoke with Marshall, via phone, before her death in 2018. Marshall had focused totally on the story of 1 woman: Geena Davis’s Dottie. Graham and Jacobson desired to try to inform more stories, as many as an eight-episode season allowed.
“The movie is a story about white women attending to play baseball,” Jacobson said. “That’s just not enough.”
Step by step the show took form, morphing from a half-hour comedy to an hourlong dramedy. Then it found its co-stars: D’Arcy Carden as Greta, the team’s glamour girl; Roberta Colindrez as Lupe, the team’s pitcher; Chanté Adams as Max, a Black superstar searching for a team of her own. Rosie O’Donnell, a star of the unique movie, signed on for an episode, playing the owner of a gay bar.
The pilot was shot in Los Angeles, which doubled first for Chicago after which for Rockford, Ailing. The coronavirus hit soon after, delaying production until last summer. Rising costs pushed the show to relocate to Pittsburgh, which is, because it happens, a rainy city, an issue for a show with so many game-day sequences. However the solid and crew handled it.
“There was sort of a summer camp quality to it,” Graham said.
And Jacobson, as Glazer jogged my memory, spent a few years as a camp counselor. So a number of that summer camp quality was owed to her. And to the incessant baseball practice she insisted on.
“There was a lot baseball practice, truly months of baseball practice,” Carden said. “We were a team greater than we were a solid. That was Abbi. Abbi’s an ensemble person.”
Adams first met Jacobson within the audition room. (As a longtime “Broad City” fan, she struggled to maintain her cool.) On set, Jacobson immediately impressed her.
“I don’t understand how she does it,” Adams said. “But at the same time as a frontrunner and the star of the show, she at all times makes sure that everybody’s voice is heard and included.” After filming had ended, Adams said, Jacobson kept showing up for her, attending the opening night of her Broadway show.
“It just melted my heart,” she said. “Abbi is the epitome of what it means to be a frontrunner.”
Jacobson doesn’t at all times feel that way, but she feels it more often than she used to. “Sometimes I can really own that,” she said. “And sometimes I’m going home, and I’m like, how am I the person? Or what’s happening here?” So she lent that very same self-doubt to Carson, a frontrunner who evolves when she acknowledges her vulnerability.
But Carson’s narrative is barely one amongst many in a series that celebrates a spread of ladies’s experience: Black, white and Latina women; straight, queer and questioning women; femme women; butch women; and girls in between. Lots of the actors are beautiful within the ways in which Hollywood prefers. Many aren’t.
Yet the show insists that each one of those women deserve love, friendship and success. In an email, O’Donnell observed that while the movie had focused on one woman’s story, this new edition gives nearly every character a wealthy inner life “in a lovely and accurate way that brings the characters’ humanity to the forefront.”
Carden has known Jacobson for 15 years, since their early improv days. Nobody had ever seen her as a romantic lead until Jacobson dropped off a glove and a hand-drawn card (“Lovely and romantic,” Carden said) and invited her to affix the team. Carden was proud to take the role and proud, too, to work with Jacobson again.
“She’s modified none in any respect,” Carden said. “She’s at all times been Abbi, but the arrogance is different.”
Jacobson wears that confidence frivolously. Glimmers of uncertainty remain. “I’m never the individual that you’re like, She should lead the show,” she told me in Prospect Park.
But clearly she is. When no team would have her, she made her own, and now she has made one other one. After an hour and a half, she picked up her purse and her coffee cup and she or he walked back through the park. Like a boss. Like a coach. Like a frontrunner.