Kay McFadden / Times staff columnist
You're safe at home with sincere, poignant "Clubhouse"

CLIFF LIPSON / CBS Mare Winningham, left, plays a protective mom whose son, played by Jeremy Sumpter, takes a job as the batboy of a big-league team in "Clubhouse." The moving new drama avoids clichés and is a refreshing change from shows populated by precocious teens and their chic parents.

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The path to moral propriety is proving even twistier than that depicted in "Clubhouse," the network's fine new drama debuting Sunday.

"Clubhouse" is set in the world of professional baseball. This, plus the fact that the hero is a 16-year-old bat boy, tends to cast a clarifying glow on right and wrong. Youth and sport represent the blessings of a simpler time.

But should they? Airing tomorrow is "Hustle," ESPN's new made-for-TV movie about that perpetual Peter Pan and erstwhile betting man, Pete Rose.

The story is a dismal reminder that you can't let down your guard even on the field of dreams. Corruption is everywhere. Always has been.

So has its subtle, tricky nature. The vague rules that shield audiences from a naked female breast say nothing about displays of mashed-up brain matter or family sitcoms with no values at all, like ABC's deplorable "Complete Savages."

Similarly, the noncodified practice of quid pro quo between journalists and sources doesn't specify the difference between trading contact information and suggesting — as CBS producer Mary Mapes allegedly did — that a higher-up in John Kerry's campaign call her source.

Such decisions are thrown back on individual judgment. The same goes for what we watch on TV, no matter how many crusades are launched or V-chips installed.

Luckily, the fate of a presidential election doesn't rest on this weekend's viewing.

"Complete Savages," 8:30 tonight, ABC: Executive producer Mel Gibson based this on his real family life, which seems irreconcilable with the show's utter lack of responsibility and soul. Since it's about a single father raising five boys, you also wonder about the implications for Mrs. Gibson.

"Savages" is painfully unfunny. For starters, Keith Carradine has been cast as the dad. He plays it with a leer frozen on his face and a delivery so broad you expect a squirting corsage and so loud you can almost hear it above the laugh track.
 
The sons include a pretty-boy lunkhead, a guitar-strumming rebel, a shy nerd, etc. Their scenes work in a hectic, generalized fashion, but Carradine's detachment — like a guest star who expects to be around for only three episodes — suggests they raise themselves.

There's also more than a touch of misogyny. References to the departed mom, who we are told abandoned her family 10 years ago, are coarsely comic. Females exist as housekeepers or dates.

"Complete Savages" masquerades as family fare, but warmth and principles are nonexistent and the only apparent message is disturbing. I'd rather have my kids watch "The Passion of the Jew" episode on "South Park."

"Dr. Vegas," 10 tonight on CBS: Scheduled late at night, "Dr. Vegas" makes a deliberate display of amorality, presumably for adult viewers who have learned how to handle the wages of Sin City.

It also has the loopiest premise of any new fall series. The doctor of the title is house physician for an upscale hotel-casino where each week, guests are afflicted with illnesses and injuries that absolutely prevent them from being taken to a hospital.

To this frivolous cause, CBS has recruited Rob Lowe. It's a stroke that succeeds; you almost can see the relief in Lowe, grown weary from headlining pretentious dramas. As "Dr. Vegas," he's able to take turns both portraying and spoofing his trademark intensity.

Lowe's great foil is Joe Pantoliano, who handles the part of casino owner as if he were Frank Sinatra and this were the Sands. Combining thuggishness, benevolence and swagger, Joey Pants even looks like Sinatra: He's compacted himself into the broad-faced, medium-heft Chairman of the mid-'60s.

If you can put your brain on hold and get past the ridiculous gaps in plot logic, then "Dr. Vegas" has your number.

"Hustle," 6 p.m. tomorrow, ESPN: Being mostly a news-driven enterprise that relies on credibility, ESPN's ventures into fiction are equally hard-nosed. The superb series "Playmakers" cast such a cold eye on professional football the NFL cried foul.

In this tradition is "Hustle," which condenses the span from when Pete Rose broke Ty Cobb's hitting record to when Rose was kicked out of baseball for betting on games.

It's a gritty, if not gripping, two hours. Acclaimed director Peter Bogdanovich is at the helm and Tom Sizemore, a star with his own ample baggage, is a very convincing Rose.

The problem is, the story goes from dark to darker. Even in his glory days, Rose up close is unappealing, cheating on his wife and exploiting the creeps and hangers-on that constitute his circle of friends. His nickname should have been "Charley Hustler."

"Clubhouse," 8 p.m. Sunday, then moves to 9 p.m. Tuesdays, CBS: Combining a baseball setting with a coming-of-age saga is taunting the story gods. The road to success is paved with clichés, and writers must beware the Valley of Metaphor as well as the Slough of Sentimentality.

"Clubhouse" manages to do all this and more. In a TV universe dominated by precocious teens and their desperately chic parents, this moving drama proves emotional sincerity can trump a hip attitude.

Sunday's pilot introduces a Staten Island teenager named Pete Young (Jeremy Sumpter), who has just succeeded in getting a job as batboy for the New York Empires. The rush of Pete's joy as he rides the ferry to a Manhattan of mythical opportunity constitutes TV's single most exhilarating moment this fall.

But Pete has concealed the job from everyone, especially his overanxious mother (Mare Winningham), who regards the city as a dangerous place that swallows up feckless visitors like Pete's father, who is absent or dead.

Just as "The Sopranos" charts one man's wrestle with the conflicting demands of two families — biological and crime — "Clubhouse" chronicles an adolescent torn between his home life and the adoptive baseball team that offers the promise of manhood.

In both shows, the dilemma is complicated because either choice carries burdens and blessings. Families aren't perfect and neither are the jobs we turn to, no matter how much we idealize them at the beginning.

Newcomer Sumpter and veteran Winningham headline a terrific, perfectly cast ensemble. Among the pleasures are Dean Cain as the team's star, Christopher Lloyd as equipment manager, John Ortiz as a rookie player, J.D. Pardo as the compulsively territorial head bat boy and Kirsten Storms as Pete's troublesome older sister.

The writing and production in "Clubhouse" are top-notch, and the music score is outstanding. When Pete runs on the field for the first time, a song savors the moment's fullness: "Is there a wish better than this / when you've only got a hundred years to live."

Kay McFadden: kmcfadden@seattletimes.com