"ballers" S3

HBO

Let's be honest, HBO's "Ballers" is fundamentally a show about capitalism. Yes, it orbits the lives of assorted football players, managers, coaches, and parasitic hangers-on, but at its nucleus, it is very much about peering out into the cosmos, gripping one's proverbial cojones, and yelling, "I'll take it." As in, "I'll take what is rightfully mine." It is a clear interpretation of neocolonialist manifest destiny, sheathed in the veneer of an athletic dramedy — much like its predecessor "Entourage" alleged to be a lighthearted, half-hour comedy centered around male friendships, when it was in fact a glorified commercial for tinseltown excess. Now that show running alums Stephen Levinson and Mark Wahlberg have crafted a follow-up to their frat boy series with another (albeit less homophobic and sexist) take on major league sports, there's no telling how far the series can go before it crash lands amongst the ruins of its cozy accomplice, the NFL.

And who better than follicly-challenged megastar Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson to head up this endeavor, an ethnically ambiguous wrestler-turned-actor who traverses the odd intersection of "new money" Black adolescents (players) with "old money" White curmudgeons (managers, coaches, agents, lawyers, owners), much like his character Spencer Strasmore. With the notable exception of Dulé Hill's militaristic Siefert, who in many instances carries the show on his back (alongside pros like Corddry and Schiff), "Ballers" rarely infuses classism with race and inequity in a powerful way, and when it does, it ultimately praises the lavish lifestyles afforded by American wealth while obscuring the extent to which African American men brutalize their bodies and minds to help rake in boatloads of cash for those in the top .001%. Many of the league players even find themselves on the precipice of losing their jobs, either for smoking trace amounts of weed or taking a tumble during a friendly paintball game, as their affluent counterparts — the ones who regulate these farcical stadium standards, are seen sniffing cocaine off of prostitutes in Vegas hotel rooms. 

With only the faintest of jabs at Trumpism  — at one point Strasmore pleads with League Exec Candace Brewer (Emayatzy Corinealdi) that he, unlike the President, isn't a "pussy grabber" — the series drills home the refrained notion that while the country may be at a standstill the only way to win at "the game of life" is by striking at its insides, ruthlessly if necessary. Gender politics aside, the series' third (and weakest) season somehow managed to highlight a controversy the NFL may have not looked too kindly on; CTE, otherwise known as Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy, a neurodegenerative disease found in men who've had extensive and traumatic head injuries. Aaron Hernandez, who was convicted for murder at age 27 (and later found hanging in prison), had a severe case of the neuron-killing disease, and officials are surveying the connection between the former tight end's homicide charges, suicidal impulses, and brain damage. And during what seemed like a particularly bleak midseason arc, famed NFL running back Ricky Jerret (John David Washington), discovered that he not only suffered from bipolar disorder, but a severe case of post-concussion syndrome, forcing him into early retirement while raising his infant son. With so many fortuitous headlines syncing up with the show's through-lines, perhaps next season will focus on a Colin Kaepernick story arc, a glossed-over discussion about race and free speech that the series always seemed keen to skim over, but never truly sunk its teeth into. With the NFL playing such a forceful role, it may prove difficult to see just how this debate inevitably shakes out, given the terse rhetoric of the commander-in-chief, his agitprop underlings, and the hundreds (if not thousands) of galvanized athletes across the country who've become outraged by our national state of dissonance. 

Whether or not "Ballers" is actually willing to incorporate the latest NFL vs White House tumult into its fourth season remains to be seen, though it'll hopefully make up for a lackluster mid-series slump, which saw Spencer not only give up his career, but his entire company, clients, and only chance at conceiving a child all in an attempt to secure one of the most preposterous fictional deals of all time. The Trump / Kaep fiasco, which might appear equally ridiculous were it not based on fact, reminds us that racism, protest, and dogwhistle bigotry will continue plaguing the NFL and NBA for years to come — especially if Kaep remains unemployed while Trump keeps his job at the head of the bully pulpit. I've honestly never ever stood for the pledge of allegiance, nor have I felt the need to put my hand over my heart for the national anthem. Maybe it's because I always found the experience to be humorless and nationalistic — as foreign to me as kneeling down to pray in some Godforsaken church. But hey, if it works for you... then great. Whatever floats your boat, pal. But if that very same flag comes to represent oppression to some while guaranteeing unalienable freedom for others, then it only seems logical to want to conduct a national conversation centered around why one side feels disproportionately out of sync with the other. Until that disconnect is prodded and revealed, we'll continue repurposing that flag as a forecasting tool for what we either do or don't believe in. The most patriotic thing we can do right now as American citizens is turn to our neighbors, and ask them "am I doing all that I can to ensure that you feel just as free, protected and safe as I do?" It should be our duty to strive for these civic rights, otherwise the pledge is just another empty platitude, recited in order to comfort ourselves at night before being tucked into bed. Besides, who really wants to repeat something which bares no meaning at all? Apart from our terrific, tremendous, and winning Prez?