The current ESPN 30 for 30 run is dope. It feels like the original set of films that came out four years ago. Playing for the Mob was great. I’m more than ready for Rand University and The U Part 2, but last night was all about Brian and The Boz directed by Thaddeus D. Matula.
I didn’t know what to expect going into the documentary. Sure, I’m from Oklahoma and a die hard OU Sooners fan, but I was in diapers when Brian Bosworth was teaching the country Sports Marketing 101. The documentary overall was on par with the rest of the 30 for 30 stable. It didn’t crack my top five, but it was definitely worth the watch. It was your typical story about fame, sort of like an “E! Hollywood True Story” dressed up in a football costume.
The movie opens up with Bosworth and his son riding to a storage unit. His entire high school and collegiate life is in that storage unit. It started with his upbringing and his dad, Foster Bosworth. Their relationship told the story itself. Military drill sergeant type father, who’s incapable of telling his son “I love you.” Perfection wasn’t expected of Brian, it was demanded. Insert an uber athletic son who’s playing not just for himself, but for his father’s deferred dreams and you have a recipe for an insecure kid looking for acceptance and love.
You can hear it on Bosworth’s voice as soon as he begins to talk about his father.
“My dad kept his own stats of the (high school) games. Why couldn’t he just watch the game and be proud of me.”
It’s nice to see Bosworth coming to grips with his upbringing in the presence of his son, Max, who is about as big as a go-kart while his dad looks like a pickup truck. Max Bosworth may grow bigger and taller…he could become a great athlete…but he’ll never be his dad or “The Boz”, and that’s fine because he doesn’t want to be him either.
As Bosworth is going through the storage, he stumbles upon his scholarship offers and letters. LSU, OU, SMU, Texas, all of the college football blue bloods of the ‘80s. What’s his son have to say?
“You could have gone to Harvard? Why didn’t you go there?” This kid is on the right track.
When you’re under the pressure of perfect parents, you take breaks and cut corners in life. You do so in order to set the bar low for yourself and accomplish something. Instead of challenging himself and going to Texas or Oklahoma, Bosworth took the easy way out and committed to Texas A&M. The commitment didn’t deter Oklahoma head coach, Barry Switzer though. The Arkansas Pimp strolled right into the Irving MacArthur high school “chow hall” wearing a mink coat and a his national championship ring. It probably was not a pinky ring, but let’s pretend that is was. Switzer walked in and began screaming Bosworth’s name. The Boz stood up. The student and pupil met. A verbal commitment was abandoned. A lifetime friendship was formed.
Again, with a perfectionist parent you’re just seeking love and acceptance. Unlike Foster Bosworth, Barry Switzer loved Brian’s talent and accepted him for who he was. When this happens and the kid has success, the wave of confidence isn’t far around the corner. Bosworth was shy and quiet. Switzer was loud and loquacious. Brian Bosworth didn’t invent “The Boz”, Barry Switzer did. Never underestimate the power of believing in someone before they believe in themselves. Sure, it causes an ego boost that could be hazardous for your health, but it gives people an artificial confidence that’s unstoppable. And from 1984 – 1987, Brian Bosworth was unstoppable on the field and off the field. Bosworth has stated that he looked up to Barry Switzer more than he did his own father. A boy often gravitates towards what and who his father is. The bravado and machismo that was “The Boz” wasn’t Foster Bosworth, it was fostered by Barry Switzer. Brian wanted to be Barry, and on the field, he was.
Bosworth wasn’t ahead of his time. Athletes with big personalities were around before him with the likes of Muhammad Ali and Joe Namath. Most things in life are cyclical and in the 80s, it was Bosworth’s turn to be the athlete that everyone loved or hated. It was Bosworth’s turn to be the household name. Whether you call him a marketing genius or just a lucky rebel, Brian Bosworth reaped everything he had sown good and bad. His trademark Mohawk, red bandana, billboard cleats, and fearless quotes were all prerequisites for the college football superstar. People began to pay attention to college football again. He was a star before he ever set foot on an NFL field. Before there was Deion Sanders and Ochocinco, there was Brian Bosworth.
As we all know, the untimely demise of The Boz wasn’t a good one. He was busted for doing steroids. He wore a t-shirt during the Orange Bowl that said “National Communist Against Athletes.” Switzer kicked him off the team because of that. He took the back door into the NFL by opting of the Supplemental Draft. Seattle picked him. He said he wouldn’t play for them, but of course he played. He called out John Elway and won. He called out Bo Jackson and got jacked. He penned a tell all book with Rick Reilly titled, The Boz, that essentially lit the match that led to the OU program receiving NCAA sanctions and Barry Switzer being fired. He flamed out in Seattle due to a bum shoulder, that was probably shot from steroid use.
Bozworth is known a bust on the field and a current day B-movie star off the field, but he looks like he’s at peace with his life. For everything that Bosworth got wrong, he got one thing right, and that’s being a great father. I love the way this film was directed. It’s different from most documentaries that just have people being interviewed in a poorly lit room. Most of the film takes place in the storage unit. Brian Bosworth surrounded by the stuff that doesn’t matter — the awards, the letters, the memorabilia and the things that made up his legacy as The Boz, but right by his side is what really matters — his son, Max — his REAL LEGACY as Brian Bosworth.
Random thoughts in my head while watching Brian and The Boz that didn’t fit into this story
By looks of his black Dodge Ram truck on a 9 inch lift kit with KC headlights perfectly in lined across the top, Brian Bosworth is the same person he was back in the ‘80s. He’s on the way to his storage unit with his son Max. Where is the storage unit? The city that the Boz resides in, Austin, TX. Being a Sooner myself, I have to be honest, you can’t deny the awesomeness that is Austin, TX. I don’t blame the man for living there at all.
Imagine if the Boz had attened SMU. He would have been there one year after Craig James and Eric Dickerson. He would have been smack dab in the middle of all the controversy. SMU would have gotten one death penalty and seventeen consecutive life sentences of mediocrity if Boz would have been a Mustang.
I’ve never heard of a cafeteria being referred to as a “chow hall” which is what Coach Switzer called the Irving MacArthur high school cafeteria. I love it. My kitchen shall now be known as “Dick’s Chow hall”.
Bruh…Jamelle Holloway is trapped in the 70s. He has to be because his suit is straight out of Studio 54. If he likes it, I love it.
S/O to Spencer Tillman for shooting it straight throughout this entire film.
No wonder the Sooners balled out in the ‘80s. Two of the greatest recruiters in college football history, Barry Switzer and Mack Brown were on the same coaching staff. Those two could have got Lebron to ditch basketball and play football if they wanted too.
R.I.P. Gary Wichard who passed away in 2011. I would have loved to hear the legendary agents side of the story about his relationship with Bosworth.