133. Happy Gilmore 2

We're back after a long impromptu hiatus with a discussion of The Smashing Machine. Enjoy!

Matt Belenky joins the pod to chat Josh Safdie's ping-pong hit, Marty Supreme. Enjoy!

Just in time for the '26 Olympics, we're back with a doc we should have covered the last round. Shaun White’s final Olympic run wasn’t really about winning; it was about giving it one more shot; it was about being in the halfpipe long enough to know the hard truth that greatness doesn’t last forever; it was about coming to terms with decline and age and the way a legacy is as defined by a timely retirement as it is by being the best. The Last Run captures this rare moment, when legend gives way to vulnerability, and competition becomes confrontation with time itself. And it does so by contrasting White’s curtain call with a retrospective look at his life and career as the chief pioneer and face of modern snowboarding. From family sacrifices to brutal injuries to years of training and discipline, White’s ride at the top is unrivaled in the sport. But no ending is ever easy to fully embrace. And no legendary athletic career fades quietly and without some degree of doubt and anxiety. On Cinematic Underdogs, we’re drawn to such existential pickles — and we love moments where victory is secured by the decision to drop in one last time, against all odds. This doc captures this denouement with clarity and poignance and nostalgic precision. Enjoy our conversation.

On the latest episode of Cinematic Underdogs, we’re diving into It’s In The Game: Madden NFL. This four-part documentary traces the unlikely collaboration between Trip Hawkins, a brilliant computer programmer, and the larger-than-life coach John Madden: an odd pairing that somehow ignited one of the most influential sports gaming franchises ever made. The series isn’t a traditional cradle-to-today history lesson; instead, it moves between two timelines. One chronicles Madden NFL’s early breakthroughs, creative battles, and the franchise-defining push for realism. The other drops us inside EA’s modern studio as the developers hustle to shape Madden 25, revealing just how massive and intricate that yearly operation has become.What emerges is a doc that starts modestly but grows steadily more engaging, blending nostalgia, industry insight, and a surprisingly heartfelt tribute to Madden himself. It doesn’t shy away from the franchise’s bumps or the criticism surrounding its current era, yet it still manages to capture why the game has mattered to so many players for so long. Whether you’ve logged thousands of virtual snaps or only know the series by reputation, this doc (and hopefully our discussion) offers a compelling look at how Madden became more than a game, rising to the status of a cultural fixture.

The legacy sequel to end all sequels with more cameos than minutes of runtime hit Netflix this summer. We have thoughts. Enjoy.

This week we ollie straight into a nostalgia inducing sports documentary: Pretending I’m a Superman: The Tony Hawk Video Game Story. On the surface, it’s a low budget tribute to a blockbuster video game franchise—underneath, it’s a wistful time capsule of late-‘90s counterculture, skateboarding’s rise from subcultural rebellion to mainstream phenomenon, and the way digital pixels reshaped half-pipe heroics and rail grinding theatrics.We break down how a skateboarding sim became one of the most important sports titles ever made, why it still carries an emotional charge decades later, and what the doc reveals (and maybe leaves out) about skateboarding’s uneasy dance with selling out to mass commercialization. From Goldfinger to glitchy kick-flips to Fulfill the Dream, we lunge deep into skate culture, 90s mythology, and the lasting impact of Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater. Yay!

We're back! This week we dive into the latest batch of Netflix’s Untold episodes where sports mythmaking collides with scandal, spectacle, and self-destruction. We break down The Fall of Favre, tracing how a football legend’s reputation unraveled; dissect The Liver King, a surreal portrait of fitness culture’s most theatrical fraud; and reflect on Shooting Guards, a more tragic story of loyalty, locker room pranks, pathological hood mentality, and the shifting codes of brotherhood in basketball and on the streets.From larger-than-life heroes who stumble under the weight of their own image to the hidden costs of fame, performance, and masculinity, we explore how Untold continues to unearth the shadows behind the shine of sports mythology.

On the latest episode of Cinematic Underdogs, we step back into the huddle and open our third eye—waxing philosophic about the NFL’s most enigmatic, mystical quarterback: Aaron Rodgers.Enigma isn’t your average sports doc. It’s a new age headtrip wrapped in a spiral. One-part ayahuasca retreat, one-part playoff heartbreak, and all parts quarterback controversy. From MVP highs to media feuds, darkness retreats to Jets dreams, Rodgers’ career plays out like a Greek tragedy—if Zeus could break defenses with clever snap counts and throw a 50-yard dime off his back foot.Although we’ve been overloaded with Rodgers lately, Enigmaoffers some new insights into the man behind the immunized mythos. This isn’t just another look at Rodgers, the football player (even if it does chronicle his uprising from a Christian/conservative Central California town to a small JUCO to Cal to Green Bay). It’s a psychological expedition into the mind of a man who can read defenses and sense your aura.If you’ve ever wondered what happens when NFL talent meets psychedelic introspection and a slight distrust of modern science—this is the documentary and episode for you. Join us as we take a deep, groovy dive into the most mysterious franchise superstar in the NFL. Along with our talk on Enigma, we also enter anotherjungle—known as the AFC North, where rivalries are meaner, weather is colder, and playoff hopes get smashed like a quarterback on third and long. As Jordan breaks it down, this iteration of Hard Knocks offered an all-access pass to the NFL’s grittiest division, and let’s just say—it doesn’t disappoint.We’re talking about bad blood, big hits, primetime snowballclassics, and preacher-boy charisma that could motivate a scarecrow. Bengals, Ravens, Steelers, Browns—these teams are more than a rivalry. They are rivals with immense tradition, hostility, and attrition. Every play is personal. Every postgame quip comes wrapped in barbed wire. And every team is dealing with a completely unique position amid the midseason chaos. Last but not least, we cover Untold: The Sign Stealer—pullingback the curtain on Conner Stallions, Michigan football's most mysterious “analyst.” It’s a wild episode of collegiate spy games, sideline disguises, and a sign-stealing scandal that rocked college football harder than a Big Ten rivalry game.Now hit play and prepare for impact.

This week on Cinematic Underdogs, we’re betting itall on a suburban fever dream of bad decisions, illicit blackjack, and cameo-toting blowtorches—that is right, we’re rolling our dice on The House, a 2017 comedy wherein Amy Poehler and Will Ferrell turn middle-class desperation into high-stakes chaos.The plot is as plain as poker; When their daughter’s collegefund vanishes, two mild-mannered parents do what any rational soon to be empty nesters would do: open an illegal underground casino in their neighbor’s basement. Imagine Breaking Bad meets Vegas Vacation, with PTA moms, home improvement mishaps, and Will Ferrell slowly unraveling into a budget Scorsese mob boss.Simplistic yet promising on paper, The House feels asarchitecturally trite as your average suburban lot. It plays out as the latest, lukewarm hedge in the studio comedy genre—confiding in recycled gags, a flimsy plot, and the kind of cheap laughs that scream "first draft." Will Ferrell, once a master of absurdist escalation, seems stuck in a creative holding pattern—the same shouting and man-child meltdown, dressed up in a different movie. There’s a sense that the Semi-Pro/Blades of Glory/OldSchool formula is wearing thin. We get it: take a well-known premise, throw in some improv, ante-up with some unhinged hijinks, and double down with slapstick shenanigans, then hope it lands. Here, it doesn’t. It’s not unwatchable (we both enjoyed it as a vapid diversion); but it’s utterly uninspired — another reminder that the golden era of Ferrell-led comedies, and 21st century theatrical comedies, are long past their prime and stuck in a rut.More direly, we discuss how the odds of a revival of thisflailing genre look increasingly grim, as lackluster efforts lead to waning box office receipts. Who will break the vicious cycle? Will someone soon hit the jackpot and rake in the next decade of theatrical releases? Join us as we theorize how the Hollywood hot hands of our adolescence have grown lazy, and whether the chips are too stacked up against a once surefire sanctuary of deep belly laughs and winning escapism for a comeback.

Lace up the skates and tighten that chinstrap—because Faceoff: Inside the NHL isn’t just a docuseries, it’s a full-speed breakaway into the heart of the world’s toughest league. It’sDrive to Survive meets Slap Shot—minus the charm, plus theconcussions.Prepare yourself to go way beyond the polished post-game interview version of hockey. This is raw ice, open wounds, locker room chaos, and front-office anxiety—all filmed in glorious HD.Injuries? Everywhere. Trades? Ruthless. Emotions? Constantly checked—and we’re not talking stick infractions. From wide-eyed rookies trying to crack the roster to grizzled vets on borrowed time, Faceoff: Inside the NHL captures the beautiful brutality of a sport where every shift could be your last, and every goal might be the one that saves your season.This is hockey like you've never seen it and we try to give it the treatment it deserves—unfiltered, unflinching, and unforgiving. Enjoy!