Tom Brady isn’t a rescuing hero in this soccer documentary
“Built in Birmingham: Brady & the Blues” is a five-episode docuseries on Amazon Prime. It’s about an English soccer team that Brady and his business partner bought.
I don’t think there’s much to like about the guy when he’s not playing quarterback.
You’d better believe that’s a tough thing to write, given how much joy — not to mention six Lombardi Trophies — he brought to this region. Patriots fans are probably saying, “How dare you, you dope?” Non-Patriots fans are probably saying, “What took you so long, you dope?”
Well, here’s the basic timeline. Appreciated every extraordinary thing he did on the field during his 20 years with the Patriots … recognized he was getting weird on us with stuff like the Alex Guerrero connection, offensively overpriced TB12 gear, and the no-mushroom policy, but hey, his unprecedented late-career excellence made for a heck of a case on his behalf … cringed when the formerly down-to-earth young QB who used to chug beers faster than his linemen started pushing crypto and running with the oligarch class… watched almost every broadcast of his rookie season as Fox’s lead NFL analyst last fall, eventually concluding that the reason he didn’t show much personality is that it might not be there to show …
But the tipping point that brought on the aforementioned realization was Brady’s behavior in his version of a current trend among the rich, famous, and presumably bored — buying an English soccer team, and making a documentary about it in which the star is the rescuing hero.
“Built in Birmingham: Brady & the Blues” is a five-episode docuseries that debuted at the end of July on Amazon Prime. It’s about a Championship soccer team (the second tier in English soccer, below the Premier League) that Brady and his private equity pal Tom Wagner recognize as an undervalued asset (always heart-warming when vultures find their food) and purchase, with Brady taking on minority ownership but with full boss duties.
“Built in Birmingham” is not bad at all. The city (gritty, industrial, and full of amusingly blunt fans that will remind you of specific Ted Lasso side characters), players (the third episode, featuring star player Jay Stansfield’s back story, is the best in the series), and the team (whose history roughly resembles the Red Sox’ from 1919-2003) are compelling.
The problem is it’s far less interesting when Brady is around. He speaks to the players in bromides and banalities — “We practice like it’s the Super Bowl” — about his time with the Patriots (and Bucs), which he seems to presume these futbol players know from A to Z and XXXVI to LV. He punctuates his Cliff Notes Tony Robbins proclamations with a specific expletive so often that it’s a wonder it hasn’t slipped through on a Fox broadcast.
When he is involved, Brady — who describes his role as “being there in a visionary role” — only seems authentic when he’s belittling something or angry. He joins his friends in talking condescendingly about the city and the team as they’re on he way to see the Blues’ aged facilities for the first time. Before a game against Wrexham — famously owned by actors Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney — Brady tells the camera, “Let’s go get a [expletive] win against Wrexham … Ryan Reynolds, Mackilrey, whatever your [expletive] name is.”
When Wagner informs Brady that putting together a swag bag for visiting legend David Beckham would be considered a faux pas — Beckham never played for the team — Brady gets a look on his face that suggests Joey Galloway just ran the wrong route again. He tells Wagner through a scowl that Beckham should be gifted something anyway.
He likes to talk about how he was an underdog, but he comes across as someone who can no longer remember what that was like, or what he was like.
The most off-putting scene occurred in the opening episode when Brady, Wagner, and his team strategized in the back of an SUV before popping into a local pub to meet some fans for a quick public-relations opportunity and a few more Lasso vibes. “We have to feel this one out, boys,’’ Brady says. “This is not my thing.”
He’s told it will only be 15 minutes. He asks if he’ll be signing autographs. The pop-in is designed to make him look like a man of the people. He’s friendly enough once he’s in the pub, but we know how he really feels. His people these days aren’t the ones chugging beers.
I was hoping while watching the series that Brady might have a revelation by the fifth episode, ditch the processed corporate speak, abandon the arrogant expectation that whatever he says carries weight because of what he accomplished in the NFL, and show some authentic emotion, like he did after winning those first few Super Bowls. I was hoping any success he found in Birmingham would remind him of his best times with the Patriots, and thereby bring out genuine emotions.
Instead, that happened with, of all people, Wagner, the calculating investor, who by the end is fully invested in the people on this team. I won’t spoil the circumstances, because this show is worth watching, despite the Brady frustrations.
In the fifth episode, Wagner makes a truly stirring and heartfelt speech, and as I was watching it, I couldn’t help but think, “Man, when the private-equity guy can summon more passion than Tom Brady, that’s awfully damning.”
Hmmm. Maybe Fox should give Wagner a shot as its lead NFL analyst.
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