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This series has been going for a few weeks now, but there's still plenty of it left. A number of the topics look intriguing and, so far, the pieces have been extremely well done. There's some good stuff coming up; some stuff I really want to see (The U, Reggie Miller v. The Knicks, The Trial of Allen Iverson, The Two Escobars) and some topics I couldn't care less about, but will probably still watch. Anybody else checking this out?
http://30for30.espn.com/
http://30for30.espn.com/schedule.html
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Bill Simmons on 30 for 30
King's Ransom - Directed by Peter Berg
Muhammad and Larry - Directed by Albert Maysles and Bradley Kaplan
http://30for30.espn.com/
http://30for30.espn.com/schedule.html
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Bill Simmons on 30 for 30
It started out as a one-paragraph e-mail in 2007. And only because I love documentaries. The goal of a well-written piece and a well-done documentary is fundamentally the same: you pick a story that hasn’t been fully explored yet, you throw yourself into it and you make it sing.
I know how to write; I don’t know how to make documentaries. But I know what makes for a good story. And in 2007, I wanted to see ESPN create more stories. So I sent my bosses a short pitch that hinged on three ideas rolled into one:
1. Our 30-year anniversary is coming up. We should do something.
(Note: ESPN loves celebrating ourselves. We’re the dude in college who throws himself birthday parties. “Hey, I’m turning 20! Let’s get a keg!” So I knew this would grab them.)
2. We should produce documentaries about 30 stories from that 30-year time frame, but with a slight catch. It can’t be “SportsCentury: 30 Years of ESPN.” We already did “SportsCentury.” This needs its own wrinkle. So what if we imported a few well-known Hollywood filmmakers and give them complete creative control?
(Note: I had no idea how much this would cost to have Hollywood make all of them. I thought it would cost something like eleventy million dollars. But if we could landed four or five filmmakers, that seemed slightly more realistic.)
3. The series should be called “30 For 30.”
(Note: Great title. You have to admit. Rolls off the tongue. I remember trying to chest-bump myself when I thought of it.)
My bosses liked the idea. So did my friend Connor Schell, who was working as a PA on “Cheap Seats” at the time. Or maybe he was working as an executive for ESPN Content Development. I can’t remember. Connor had an even better wrinkle: What if outside filmmakers made all 30 documentaries?
He swore we could pull it off. I didn’t believe him. We started talking on the phone a lot. Actually, we were already talking on the phone a lot, but those conversations were about fantasy baseball and “The Real World.” Now we were getting real work done. We made a master list of potential stories that we wanted to see … and they had to be stories, not just a laundry list of “we’ll do Jordan, we’ll do Tyson, we’ll do Magic” and so on. We were especially attracted to stories that resonated at the time but were eventually forgotten for whatever reason. Like the unique connection between Hank Gathers and Bo Kimble. Like Tim Richmond taking NASCAR by storm, disappearing just as quickly because of an “illness” (later revealed to be AIDS), then having his story covered up and dismissed. Like O.J.’s car chase, Escobar’s own goal and Jimmy the Greek’s career imploding in just a few sentences. Like the 2004 Red Sox winning four incredible games in four nights against the Yankees; even if the big picture theme had been beaten to death, the small picture theme (every remarkable twist from Game 4 through Game 7) had never really been told. We wanted people to say, “Wow, I forgot how (fill in a word: great, amazing, poignant, crazy, depressing, unbelievable) that was” or “I can’t believe I never knew that whole story.” We didn’t want to check off a laundry list of the 30 biggest stories from 1979 to 2009. That’s what our viewers would expect from us. We wanted to surprise them.
While we were coming up with ideas, we made a list of respected filmmakers and celebrities who also happened to be sports fans. This list kept expanding as we kept learning things like, “Hey, did you know so-and-so has been a Knicks season ticket holder for 30 years?” and “Did you know that so-and-so has a crazy passion for NASCAR?” Then we made another list of filmmakers that we desperately wanted whether they liked sports or not, just because we respected them so much. (Important note: All copies of this list have been destroyed Oliver North-style and I now deny that it ever existed.) By the time we were done, it had turned into a mix-and-match game of those three lists, so we recruited John Dahl, Mike Tollin, Joan Lynch, Chris Connelly, and the ESPN Films group to help us find the 30 best matches between stories and filmmakers. If there was no fresh take on the O.J. Trial, the 1980 Olympic Hockey Team, Magic’s HIV-driven retirement or any other “iconic” story from that time, then screw it—we weren’t going to assign those topics just to have them in the series. We wanted the best 30 matches. Period.
We hoped to land a few respected names early for a “domino effect” of sort and only needed two or three names. Everyone else would get a sniff and want to be involved. That’s what we thought. We all started going out on meet and greets, and that’s when something crazy happened, something we never anticipated: these people had been waiting for us. They had stories to tell. They just never thought they’d have a chance to tell them. Tollin broke into Hollywood by working in the USFL and happened to be sitting on three years of rare USFL footage. Yes, he wanted to direct a film. The great Albert Maysles followed Muhammad Ali around before the Holmes fight, filmed two months worth of incredible footage, even cut a 30-minute documentary about it… only nobody wanted to purchase it because the fight itself had been so depressing. The film had been sitting in a warehouse for 27 years gathering dust. Yes, he wanted to be involved.
To our eternal amazement, the dominos started falling. Ice Cube is a lifelong Raiders fan. Peter Berg’s obsession with Wayne Gretzky is real. Ron Shelton brings an unequaled passion to minor league baseball. We found out that Steve Nash grew up idolizing the late Terry Fox, that Barry Levinson never really recovered from the Colts leaving Baltimore, that Steve James grew up in Virginia and remains haunted by the racism there, specifically, how Allen Iverson’s trial was handled. They all jumped aboard. Now the project was humming. These wouldn’t be typical documentaries with highlights and talking heads and a chronological theme. These would be stories with a beginning, middle and end. That’s what we wanted.
In many cases, the filmmakers did the brainstorming while we did a lot of nodding. Dan Klores had always been fascinated not just by Reggie Miller’s connection with Madison Square Garden, but how Reggie inadvertently became the most memorable thing about Patrick Ewing’s prime with the Knicks. Has that ever happened before? An opposing player briefly hijacking the identity of another team? Our friends at NBA Entertainment wanted to make a film about how Yugoslavia’s basketball team was ripped apart by the Bosnian War—not just because it was a terrific story, but because they were sitting on a treasure chest of footage that nobody had ever seen. The talented crew from Rakontur Productions wanted to tackle Miami University in the same spirit with which they nailed “Cocaine Cowboys.” How do you say “no” to any of those stories? These ideas would put the onus on the viewers, make them think, make them use their brains, make them wonder what might happen next. Everyone already knows what happened with the 1980 US Olympic Hockey Team. But how many people know what happened the night Mike Tyson knocked out Bruce Seldon in Las Vegas? That’s what we wanted.
And that’s how it went. We thought we would be shaping “30 For 30” like matchmakers on Harmony.com—let’s give this idea to him, and this idea to her, and this one to them—but really, the filmmakers shaped the series for us. Many of our we-gotta-do-these ideas never ended up happening: the rise and fall of Doc and Darryl; the Borg-McEnroe and McGwire-Sosa rivalries; the stormy marriage that submarined Mike Tyson’s career; even Tiger Woods. We thought all of those concepts were locks. None of them made the cut. We were fine with that. You can’t force this stuff. We ended up with 30 riveting stories for 30 years. We did not rank them. We did not count them down. We did not attempt to place them in any sort of context. We feel extraordinarily confident you will remember them.
Remember when I mentioned how we were hoping for a domino effect of sorts? It happened. And then some. This is the greatest collection of filmmakers ever assembled under the same umbrella. There has never been anything on television like “30 For 30” before—a network handing over thirty stories to gifted talents and trusting they will deliver. Which they will.
And if they don’t deliver? Then please know this was all Connor’s idea.
I know how to write; I don’t know how to make documentaries. But I know what makes for a good story. And in 2007, I wanted to see ESPN create more stories. So I sent my bosses a short pitch that hinged on three ideas rolled into one:
1. Our 30-year anniversary is coming up. We should do something.
(Note: ESPN loves celebrating ourselves. We’re the dude in college who throws himself birthday parties. “Hey, I’m turning 20! Let’s get a keg!” So I knew this would grab them.)
2. We should produce documentaries about 30 stories from that 30-year time frame, but with a slight catch. It can’t be “SportsCentury: 30 Years of ESPN.” We already did “SportsCentury.” This needs its own wrinkle. So what if we imported a few well-known Hollywood filmmakers and give them complete creative control?
(Note: I had no idea how much this would cost to have Hollywood make all of them. I thought it would cost something like eleventy million dollars. But if we could landed four or five filmmakers, that seemed slightly more realistic.)
3. The series should be called “30 For 30.”
(Note: Great title. You have to admit. Rolls off the tongue. I remember trying to chest-bump myself when I thought of it.)
My bosses liked the idea. So did my friend Connor Schell, who was working as a PA on “Cheap Seats” at the time. Or maybe he was working as an executive for ESPN Content Development. I can’t remember. Connor had an even better wrinkle: What if outside filmmakers made all 30 documentaries?
He swore we could pull it off. I didn’t believe him. We started talking on the phone a lot. Actually, we were already talking on the phone a lot, but those conversations were about fantasy baseball and “The Real World.” Now we were getting real work done. We made a master list of potential stories that we wanted to see … and they had to be stories, not just a laundry list of “we’ll do Jordan, we’ll do Tyson, we’ll do Magic” and so on. We were especially attracted to stories that resonated at the time but were eventually forgotten for whatever reason. Like the unique connection between Hank Gathers and Bo Kimble. Like Tim Richmond taking NASCAR by storm, disappearing just as quickly because of an “illness” (later revealed to be AIDS), then having his story covered up and dismissed. Like O.J.’s car chase, Escobar’s own goal and Jimmy the Greek’s career imploding in just a few sentences. Like the 2004 Red Sox winning four incredible games in four nights against the Yankees; even if the big picture theme had been beaten to death, the small picture theme (every remarkable twist from Game 4 through Game 7) had never really been told. We wanted people to say, “Wow, I forgot how (fill in a word: great, amazing, poignant, crazy, depressing, unbelievable) that was” or “I can’t believe I never knew that whole story.” We didn’t want to check off a laundry list of the 30 biggest stories from 1979 to 2009. That’s what our viewers would expect from us. We wanted to surprise them.
While we were coming up with ideas, we made a list of respected filmmakers and celebrities who also happened to be sports fans. This list kept expanding as we kept learning things like, “Hey, did you know so-and-so has been a Knicks season ticket holder for 30 years?” and “Did you know that so-and-so has a crazy passion for NASCAR?” Then we made another list of filmmakers that we desperately wanted whether they liked sports or not, just because we respected them so much. (Important note: All copies of this list have been destroyed Oliver North-style and I now deny that it ever existed.) By the time we were done, it had turned into a mix-and-match game of those three lists, so we recruited John Dahl, Mike Tollin, Joan Lynch, Chris Connelly, and the ESPN Films group to help us find the 30 best matches between stories and filmmakers. If there was no fresh take on the O.J. Trial, the 1980 Olympic Hockey Team, Magic’s HIV-driven retirement or any other “iconic” story from that time, then screw it—we weren’t going to assign those topics just to have them in the series. We wanted the best 30 matches. Period.
We hoped to land a few respected names early for a “domino effect” of sort and only needed two or three names. Everyone else would get a sniff and want to be involved. That’s what we thought. We all started going out on meet and greets, and that’s when something crazy happened, something we never anticipated: these people had been waiting for us. They had stories to tell. They just never thought they’d have a chance to tell them. Tollin broke into Hollywood by working in the USFL and happened to be sitting on three years of rare USFL footage. Yes, he wanted to direct a film. The great Albert Maysles followed Muhammad Ali around before the Holmes fight, filmed two months worth of incredible footage, even cut a 30-minute documentary about it… only nobody wanted to purchase it because the fight itself had been so depressing. The film had been sitting in a warehouse for 27 years gathering dust. Yes, he wanted to be involved.
To our eternal amazement, the dominos started falling. Ice Cube is a lifelong Raiders fan. Peter Berg’s obsession with Wayne Gretzky is real. Ron Shelton brings an unequaled passion to minor league baseball. We found out that Steve Nash grew up idolizing the late Terry Fox, that Barry Levinson never really recovered from the Colts leaving Baltimore, that Steve James grew up in Virginia and remains haunted by the racism there, specifically, how Allen Iverson’s trial was handled. They all jumped aboard. Now the project was humming. These wouldn’t be typical documentaries with highlights and talking heads and a chronological theme. These would be stories with a beginning, middle and end. That’s what we wanted.
In many cases, the filmmakers did the brainstorming while we did a lot of nodding. Dan Klores had always been fascinated not just by Reggie Miller’s connection with Madison Square Garden, but how Reggie inadvertently became the most memorable thing about Patrick Ewing’s prime with the Knicks. Has that ever happened before? An opposing player briefly hijacking the identity of another team? Our friends at NBA Entertainment wanted to make a film about how Yugoslavia’s basketball team was ripped apart by the Bosnian War—not just because it was a terrific story, but because they were sitting on a treasure chest of footage that nobody had ever seen. The talented crew from Rakontur Productions wanted to tackle Miami University in the same spirit with which they nailed “Cocaine Cowboys.” How do you say “no” to any of those stories? These ideas would put the onus on the viewers, make them think, make them use their brains, make them wonder what might happen next. Everyone already knows what happened with the 1980 US Olympic Hockey Team. But how many people know what happened the night Mike Tyson knocked out Bruce Seldon in Las Vegas? That’s what we wanted.
And that’s how it went. We thought we would be shaping “30 For 30” like matchmakers on Harmony.com—let’s give this idea to him, and this idea to her, and this one to them—but really, the filmmakers shaped the series for us. Many of our we-gotta-do-these ideas never ended up happening: the rise and fall of Doc and Darryl; the Borg-McEnroe and McGwire-Sosa rivalries; the stormy marriage that submarined Mike Tyson’s career; even Tiger Woods. We thought all of those concepts were locks. None of them made the cut. We were fine with that. You can’t force this stuff. We ended up with 30 riveting stories for 30 years. We did not rank them. We did not count them down. We did not attempt to place them in any sort of context. We feel extraordinarily confident you will remember them.
Remember when I mentioned how we were hoping for a domino effect of sorts? It happened. And then some. This is the greatest collection of filmmakers ever assembled under the same umbrella. There has never been anything on television like “30 For 30” before—a network handing over thirty stories to gifted talents and trusting they will deliver. Which they will.
And if they don’t deliver? Then please know this was all Connor’s idea.
King's Ransom - Directed by Peter Berg
The Band That Wouldn't Die - Directed by Barry LevinsonOn August 9, 1988, the NHL was forever changed with the single stroke of a pen. The Edmonton Oilers, fresh off their fourth Stanley Cup victory in five years, signed a deal that sent Wayne Gretzky, a Canadian national treasure and the greatest hockey player ever to play the game, to the Los Angeles Kings in a multi-player, multi-million dollar deal. As bewildered Oiler fans struggled to make sense of the unthinkable, fans in Los Angeles were rushing to purchase season tickets at a rate so fast it overwhelmed the Kings box office. Overnight, a franchise largely overlooked in its 21-year existence was suddenly playing to sellout crowds and standing ovations, and a league often relegated to “little brother” status exploded from 21 teams to 30 in less than a decade. Acclaimed director Peter Berg presents the captivating story of the trade that knocked the wind out of an entire country, and placed a star-studded city right at the humble feet of a 27-year-old kid, known simply as “The Great One.”
Small Potatoes: Who Killed the USFL? - Directed by Mike TollinIn late March of 1984, a moving company secretly packed up the Baltimore Colts’ belongings and its fleet of vans snuck off in the darkness of the early morning. Leaving a city of deeply devoted fans in shock and disbelief. What caused owner Robert Irsay to turn his back on a town that was as closely linked to its team as any in the NFL? Academy Award-winning filmmaker Barry Levinson, himself a long-standing Baltimore Colts fanatic, will probe that question in light of the changing relationship of sports to community. Through the eyes of members of the Colts Marching Band, Levinson will illustrate how a fan base copes with losing the team that it loves.
In 1983 the upstart United States Football League (USFL) had the audacity to challenge the almighty NFL. The new league did the unthinkable by playing in the spring and plucked three straight Heisman Trophy winners away from the NFL. The 12-team USFL played before crowds that averaged 25,000, and started off with respectable TV ratings. But with success came expansion and new owners, including a certain high profile and impatient real estate baron whose vision was at odds with the league’s founders. Soon, the USFL was reduced to waging a desperate anti-trust lawsuit against the NFL, which yielded an ironic verdict that effectively forced the league out of business. Now, almost a quarter of a century later, Academy Award-nominated and Peabody Award-winning director Mike Tollin, himself once a chronicler of the league, will showcase the remarkable influence of those three years on football history and attempt to answer the question, “Who Killed the USFL?”
Muhammad and Larry - Directed by Albert Maysles and Bradley Kaplan
Without Bias - Directed by Kirk FraserIn October of 1980 Muhammad Ali was preparing to fight for an unprecedented fourth heavyweight title against his friend and former sparring partner Larry Holmes. To say that the great Ali was in the twilight of his career would be generous; most of his admiring fans, friends and fight scribes considered his bravado delusional. What was left for him to prove? In the weeks of training before the fight, documentarians Albert and David Maysles took an intimate look at Ali trying to convince the world and perhaps himself, that he was still “The Greatest.” At the same time, they documented the mild-mannered and undervalued champion Holmes as he confidently prepared to put an end to the career of a man for whom he had an abiding and deep affection. In the raw moments after Ali’s humbling in this one-sided fight, it was not fully comprehended what the Maysles brothers had actually captured on film and, due to unexpected circumstances, the Maysles footage never received a public screening or airing. However, in the intervening years, the magnitude of this footage is now clear. An era ended when the braggadocio and confidence were stripped away in the ring, and the world’s greatest hero was revealed to be a man. Here for the first time is the unseen filmed build up to that fight, accompanied by freshly shot interviews by Albert Maysles with members from both the Ali and Holmes camps, as well as others who were prime witnesses to this poignant foolhardy attempt at courage.
The Legend of Jimmy The Greek - Directed by Fritz MitchellMore than two decades after his tragic cocaine overdose, the late Len Bias still leaves more questions than answers. When Bias dropped dead two days after the 1986 NBA Draft, he forever altered our perception of casual drug use and became the tipping point of America's drug crisis in the mid-80's. Future generations continue to face the harsh punishment of drug policies that were influenced by the public outcry after his heartbreaking death. Instead of becoming an NBA star, he became a one-man deterrent, the athlete who reminded everyone just how dangerous drug use can be. Amazingly, questions still linger about his death nearly a quarter-century later. How good could he have been in the pro ranks? Has he become underrated or overrated as the years pass? How could a University of Maryland superstar and Boston Celtics lottery pick be derailed by a cocaine binge? Was Bias a one-time user as we were led to believe, or was there a pattern of recreational use that led to his fatal last night? Did he fall in with the wrong crowd? In the most ambitious, comprehensive and uncompromising account of Bias’ life and death ever captured on film, up-and-coming director Kirk Fraser utilizes dozens of interviews with Bias’ closest teammates, friends and family in an effort to determine exactly what happened on that fateful night. Maybe it wasn't as much of a fluke as we thought.
The U - Directed by Billy Corben“The NFL Today” on CBS was one of the preeminent sports programs on television in the early 1980s. It was a perfect combination of reporting, analysis, predictions, humor and talent. But there was no personality on the show more popular than Jimmy “The Greek” Snyder. Born in Steubenville, Ohio, to Greek immigrants, Jimmy overcame childhood tragedy, moved to Las Vegas, and eventually became the biggest name in the world of sports handicapping. When CBS added him as an “analyst” on “The NFL Today,” “The Greek” not only further increased his stature as a sort of national folk hero, but he also gained an air of respectability never before associated with gamblers. Peabody Award-winning filmmaker Fritz Mitchell, who broke in as an intern on “The NFL Today,” will examine Snyder’s impact on the growth of sports gambling, while also taking a fresh look at The Greek’s tragic downfall.
Winning Time: Reggie Miller vs. The New York Knicks - Directed by Dan KloresThroughout the 1980s, Miami, Florida, was at the center of a racial and cultural shift taking place throughout the country. Overwhelmed by riots and tensions, Miami was a city in flux, and the University of Miami football team served as a microcosm for this evolution. The image of the predominantly white university was forever changed when coach Howard Schnellenberger scoured some of the toughest ghettos in Florida to recruit mostly black players for his team. With a newly branded swagger, inspired and fueled by the quickly growing local Miami hip hop culture, these Hurricanes took on larger-than-life personalities and won four national titles between 1983 and 1991. Filmmaker Billy Corben, a Miami native and University of Miami alum, will tell the story of how these “Bad Boys” of football changed the attitude of the game they played, and how this serene campus was transformed into “The U.”
Guru of Go - Directed by Bill CouturieReggie Miller single-handedly crushed the hearts of Knick fans multiple times. But it was the 1995 Eastern Conference Semifinals that solidified Miller as Public Enemy #1 in New York City. With moments to go in Game 1, and facing a seemingly insurmountable deficit of 105-99, Miller scored eight points in 8.9 seconds to give his Indiana Pacers an astonishing victory. This career-defining performance, combined with his give-and-take with Knicks fan Spike Lee, made Miller and the Knicks a highlight of the 1995 NBA playoffs. Peabody Award-winning director Dan Klores will explore how Miller proudly built his legend as “The Garden’s Greatest Villain”.
No Crossover: The Trial of Allen Iverson - Directed by Steve JamesBy the mid-1980s Paul Westhead had worn out his welcome in the NBA. The best offer he could find came from an obscure small college with little history of basketball. In the same city where he had won an NBA championship with Magic and Kareem, Westhead was determined to perfect his non-stop run-and-gun offensive system at Loyola Marymount. His shoot-first offense appeared doomed to fail until Hank Gathers and Bo Kimble, two talented players from Westhead’s hometown of Philadelphia, arrived gift-wrapped at his doorstep. With Gathers and Kimble leading a record scoring charge, Westhead’s system suddenly dazzled the world of college basketball and turned conventional thinking on its head. But then, early in the 1989-90 season, Gathers collapsed during a game and was diagnosed with an abnormal heartbeat. Determined to play, Gathers returned three games later, but less than three months later, he tragically died on the court. Working with both Westhead and Kimble, Oscar-winning director Bill Couturié will tell a fast-paced and emotionally moving story of innovation, triumph and tragedy.
On Valentine’s Day 1993, 17-year-old Bethel High School basketball star Allen Iverson was bowling in Hampton, Va., with five high school friends. It was supposed to be an ordinary evening, but it became a night that defined Iverson’s young life. A quarrel soon erupted into a brawl pitting Iverson’s young black friends against a group of white patrons. The fallout from the fight and the handling of the subsequent trial landed the teenager—considered by some the nation’s best high school athlete—in jail and sharply divided the city along racial lines. Oscar nominee Steve James (“Hoop Dreams” returns to his hometown of Hampton, where he once played basketball, to take a personal look at this still-disputed incident and examine its impact on Iverson and the shared community.
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