Finally a football movie that combines slobs-versus-snobs approach with weaponized, Jerry Richardson-grade anti-union sentiment. Yes, it's comedy, and yes Keanu Reeves is involved.
In which the director of Superman once again returns to a classic, mythic theme: a bartender who makes the Golden State Warriors with the help of a ragtag group of circa-1980 stereotypes.
In which Whoopi Goldberg inherits a Knicks team with Greg Ostertag and Dwayne Schintzius on it and leads it to the playoffs. It's not a documentary, and James Dolan still thinks Isiah Thomas would've done a better job.
The New Yorker did the world a favor by unlocking John McPhee's legendary profile of Bill Bradley, who was then at Princeton and seemingly bound for basketball immortality. There's a reason why this piece, more than most any other piece of basketball writing, has endured.