The Patriotic Propaganda of ‘The Redeem Team’

Under its surface, the Netflix documentary sells national duty and American exceptionalism—but I don’t want my sports to have a deeper meaning.

Dwyane Wade and Kobe Bryant in “The Redeem Team”
IOC / John Huet / Netflix

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I don’t love my country. I don’t believe in our symbols or purported values, or in what we are meant to represent to the world. I am frustrated when, after a violent tragedy, a politician says “This isn’t America.” I scoff at closing remarks in speeches and debates, when candidates offer platitudes about how the people of Michigan or West Virginia or wherever else are strong, resilient, hard-working people. It’s oversimplified, nonsensical flattery. And I am allergic to patriotic propaganda.

I believe that, in many ways, the world can be frighteningly simple. People have needs and desires. Those needs and desires are often at odds with the needs and desires of others. Those with more power and will tend to get what they want; those with less tend to not. It’s competition in its basest form, and it depresses me.

But it’s also why I love sports: a place where conflict is reduced to arbitrary goals.

People who dislike sports tend to hide their dismissal under a thin veil of condescension (“I don’t watch sportsball”), and their opinions are neighbors to disliking superhero movies, animation, video games, or anything else that other people love but they themselves never learned to enjoy. I find those opinions sad and unbearably boring, but understandable. I used to think that some sports were good and others were bad, until I accepted that all sports are arbitrary and that virtually any sport can be entertaining for those who choose to learn its rules.

When I watched The Redeem Team, Netflix’s new sports documentary about the U.S. Olympic men's basketball team, I was enthralled. The film is about the historical dominance of the USA Basketball Men’s National Team; it traces how the rest of the world caught up as the NBA grew in popularity and basketball became a global sport. In the 10 Olympic games from 1936 to 1988, the USA Basketball men’s team featured only amateur players. The U.S. only began to allow pros to play in the Barcelona Olympics of 1992, after losing to the Soviets. This led to the creation of the “Dream Team,” which included Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, and Charles Barkley—arguably the best team ever assembled in team sports. NBA pros dominated the sport until Team USA was embarrassed in the 2004 Olympics, spurring their quest for redemption in the 2008 Olympics with a team dubbed the “Redeem Team.” The Redeem Team features interviews with the players and coaches who were there between 2004 and 2008, including LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, and Coach Mike Krzyzewski, but also the journalists who covered the events and added context to what Team USA meant to the basketball world.

“U.S. basketball always was so dominant,” one sportswriter said. “But, you know, also we came to the notion: Just because we’re Americans, we’re better. You know, if you were from Europe or South America, well, you couldn’t be as good, ‘cause you weren’t American. And that wasn’t true. They had the same ability to gain expertise in basketball that we did.”

As much as I loved reliving the story, propaganda kept nudging its way in. The film shows Dwayne Wade saying things like, “We had a lot of things that we needed to show the world. And it wasn’t just basketball.” Coach K went further, saying, “How are we gonna win? What are we gonna win? What are we gonna establish? Is it to just qualify for the fucking Olympics? If that’s the only reason we’re here, that’s too shallow.”

At one point, the Army is invited to speak to the team about the higher purpose of serving the country. In one scene, an Army colonel points to a soldier who lost both of his eyes in Iraq from shrapnel from an explosion. “And he’s still serving,” the colonel says. “That’s a hero.”

“These are the flags we wore on our uniforms in Iraq, and we got a flag for each one of you,” he continues. “And what I’m hoping is that you’ll look down and see that flag, and you’ll realize thousands of people have gone before you and sacrificed so you can be a great basketball player.”

“Hearing those stories, our players let their hearts be opened,” Coach K said. “And as a result, they became the U.S.”

Netflix

But Team USA lost again in 2006, in an international tournament meant to help them qualify for the Olympics. After watching the players hear military speeches and listen to the national anthem for motivation, I took a weird bit of satisfaction in that loss. I don’t want my sports to have a deeper meaning. What makes sports great is that they adopt whatever meaning I give to them—nothing more. Patriotism didn’t change the USA Basketball Men’s National Team; adding Kobe Bryant in 2008 did.

Whereas the first half of The Redeem Team chronicles the role of Team USA within the basketball world, the second half is about the impact that Kobe Bryant had on the team—and the impact the team had on him. Kobe was at both a low point and a crossroads in his career. Many fans—and many of his peers in the NBA, too—hated him around that time. Kobe joining Team USA was, as one sportswriter describes it, “the start of the second chapter in the life of Kobe Bryant.”

The rest of the documentary features some of the greatest basketball ever played, but what stands out most are the stories about Kobe changing the culture of the USA Basketball men’s team. In one story, Kobe promised to run through his own friend and Lakers teammate Pau Gasol on the first play of the game. It was meant to send a message to Gasol, who was playing for Spain, but also to Kobe’s teammates that he was willing to win at any cost. In another story, coaches and peers marveled at the relationship between Kobe and LeBron, two players who elicited endless debates about who was the best in the league.

Netflix

The best story told in the documentary is about a time the team returned from a late night at the club and ran into Kobe on his way to the gym.

“Next thing you know, it goes from just Kobe going at 5:30 in the morning, to LeBron and D. Wade,” Team USA forward Carlos Boozer said. “And by the end of the week, the whole team was getting up every morning, and we’re on Kobe’s schedule.”

Carmelo Anthony, the funniest interviewee in The Redeem Team, said, “Once you start seeing the greats doing their thing and leading the pack, it’s like ‘I’m with you, let’s go.’” Then he added, “I’ma be honest with you, though. I wasn’t going at no fucking 4:30. That’s too early.”

Propaganda or not, The Redeem Team follows an amazing story, and you should most certainly watch it. You don’t have to believe in what the U.S. “stands for,” or have any grandiose ideas about what it means for Team USA to win. The competition—and the journey itself—is enough.

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By the time you read this, I’ll be in Korea on vacation! Thanks to everyone who responded to my last Humans Being, about Entergalactic and falling in love. My favorite response came from Scott, whose email included this gem: “When I read your email today, I stopped reading when you mentioned the show was animated. Fortunately, I am in between shows and gave it a try (and went back and finished your column).”

Every time I convince a skeptic to appreciate animation as an incredible storytelling medium for adults, an angel gets its wings.

This week’s book giveaway is the first in a series of middle-grade fantasy novels created by Kobe Bryant, Legacy and the Queen. Just send me an email telling me your favorite Olympic sport, and I’ll send the book to a random person who hits my inbox.  And this one’s not for free, but if you want to read my memoir, Piccolo Is Black: A Memoir of Race, Religion, and Pop Culture, I’d love that too. You can reach me at humansbeing@theatlantic.com or find me on Twitter at @JordanMCalhoun.

Jordan Calhoun is a contributing writer at The Atlantic.