There's a certain kind of comedy that only works when it's entirely unnecessary.
Jake Schreier, director of Thunderbolts, recently opened up about a cut post-credits scene featuring David Harbour's Red Guardian and a memory that, quite frankly, sounds more compelling than half of what made the final reel. It would've been a grainy home video of a doomed children's soccer game—complete with a kid named Mindy defecating mid-field.
Yes, really. And I wish they'd kept it in.
Let's backtrack.
During a chat with ComicBookMovie.com, Schreier shared that an alternate end-credits sequence was close to making the cut. In it, Red Guardian—Florence Pugh's brawny, bumbling father figure—would appear in a VHS flashback to a Little League game from Yelena Belova's youth. A team called the West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts, coached by none other than Alexei Shostakov himself. The team never won a match. One teammate had a mid-game accident. Chaos, preserved in analog.
And somehow, it sounds more emotionally honest than most of Marvel's recent Phase Five output.
Instead, what we got in Thunderbolts' actual end-credits scenes was the usual two-step: First, Harbour's Red Guardian shilling a box of Wheaties. Yes, Wheaties. Then came the obligatory baton-passing: the arrival of the Fantastic Four, teeing up the Avengers: Doomsday setup like the trailer to a sequel you know will disappoint you, but you'll buy the ticket anyway.
Now, I'm not here to deify deleted scenes. Nine times out of ten, they were cut for good reason—timing, tone, pacing, studio panic. But in this case? You can almost feel what Schreier was trying to do. This wasn't just a gag. It was a rare shot at texture, at character, at making the Thunderbolts more than a line-up of merchandised misfits.
Because Harbour's Alexei is the kind of figure we don't get much anymore: a Cold War relic masquerading as a lovable oaf, whose best intentions are drowned in vodka and delusion. There's comedy in that, sure—but also pathos. And capturing that on something as hilariously dated as VHS? Inspired.
And yet, they pulled it. Perhaps it tested poorly. Maybe it didn't fit the Marvel spreadsheet of narrative synergy. Or maybe—just maybe—it was too human. And humanity, let's face it, isn't selling quite as well as multiversal cameos.
Look—I'm not suggesting this one lost scene would've saved Thunderbolts. The film was, by all accounts, a lukewarm cocktail of studio caution and tonal whiplash. But had they ended with that soccer game? That bizarre, uncomfortable, oddly specific moment? It might've left a taste of something more.
A reminder that superheroes had lives before the mission briefings. That failure—real, embarrassing, childhood failure—shapes us as much as victory ever does.
In a landscape where post-credit scenes now exist mostly to advertise future products, it's telling that the one they cut might've been the only one worth remembering.
Does it matter? Probably not.
But I'll say this: I've already forgotten the Wheaties bit. I won't forget Mindy and the midfield disaster.
Marvel, next time? Roll the tape.
