Can you even fathom what the odds of that are? Here, I'll give you a little help. There are about 314 million people living in the U.S. right now. Of those people, 32 were deemed qualified enough to coach an NFL team this year. 32 out of 314 million. That equates to about 0.0000001% of the US population. Out of that minuscule number, only two coaches go to the Super Bowl. You want a visualization of that? Here's a helpful graphic about the probability of winning the lottery. You see that number on the bottom? That number is more probable than the chances of any given person growing up to be a coach in the Super Bowl, EVEN IF you take out the female population (not that they can't become football coaches...there's just never been one in the NFL). So you can see, the fact that either of the Harbaugh's ended up in the Super Bowl is improbable enough. But the chances of both brothers ending up with the last remaining teams in the same year? Well, that's about the same as finding a needle in a stack of needles.
But this is why we love sports--it always provides the greatest of drama. Sports headlines can be so crazy that even Manti Te'o couldn't fake them. We've heard the mantra time and again: "You can't make this stuff up," or "you could not write a script like this." The meaning is two-fold: (1) what you've just seen is so crazy that no one in their right mind could have possibly dreamt of it before just now; and (2) what you've just seen is so crazy that even if someone had thought it up before, everyone would've dismissed it as meaningless fiction.
Enter Warrior.
I was reminded of this little movie as soon as I imagined seeing two brothers face off in the Super Bowl. I figured others might make the same connection, but after looking up how much the movie grossed, I realized that probably wasn't the case. Warrior was released in early fall 2011 to critical acclaim, but poor box office numbers. As such, it was out of theaters in 8 weeks, dismissed by the populace as meaningless fiction (that's a callback, y'all).
The set up of Warrior at first seems improbable, but may now sound familiar. Tom Hardy and Joel Edgerton play two brothers who were separated at a young age by different family loyalties, yet now find themselves battling their way through opposite sides of a mixed martial arts championship bracket. Hardy plays Tommy (looking as scary, if not scarier, than he does in The Dark Knight Rises, and giving perhaps the best performance of his young career), a lifelong fighter who as a teenager had dreams of breaking the record of the legendary Greek wrestler Theogenes. In the other corner, Edgerton plays Brendan, the older brother who never was as good of a fighter, but can still hold his own in the ring. Meanwhile, Nick Nolte plays their father (in a role that earned him a well-deserved Oscar nomination), a former alcoholic struggling to regain the respect of his two sons. The name of the film could apply to any of these characters, and we're reminded of it each time a referee starts a fight with the same three lines: "You ready? You ready? Let's go to war!"
The fighters eventually hear about the Sparta championship, a 16-person bracket meant to pit the best fighters in the world against each other. Throughout the film, Sparta is constantly referred to as "the Super Bowl of mixed martial arts." The creator of the tournament (played by director Gavin O'Connor, who one can argue has directed the two best sports films of the last decade with this and Miracle), gushes that "growing up, we always wanted to know who the toughest kid in the neighborhood was. Now we get to see who the toughest in the world is." Ironically, the two brothers end up in the tournament in different ways and make their way to the championship, shrinking the field back to the neighborhood once again.
Though we know where the movie is going to take us, Warrior is still able to turn old fighting cliches into a winning formula. In most fighting movies, there is one hero that the audience connects with. In Warrior, there are two. By the time the two brothers meet in the final bout, we can't decide who deserves our fandom more: Tommy, the war hero who would use the winnings to support the family of his fallen friend, or Brendan, the struggling family man who needs the money to make his house payments. We are reminded of a telling line given early in the movie by Nolte: "The devil you know is better than the devil you don't." But what happens when your opponent turns out to not be the devil at all, but your brother? The movie handles this question with a surprising honesty--a trainer states before the fight "he's not your brother...he's in the way,"--but it's an answer that creates an unusual moral dilemma. Obviously only one can win, but the movie has enough drama and storylines that people sitting next to each other in a theater may just be rooting for different characters.
What the filmmakers could never have dreamed is that this fictional scenario could turn into our current reality. The improbability of two brothers meeting in the championship is treated with stunned disbelief in Warrior, and this Super Bowl matchup deserves the same. The comparisons are fun, too. Jim Harbaugh is like Tommy: he's the younger brother with a feisty personality, a former quarterback chasing what he could never do as a player, and perhaps a better coach than his brother. His 49ers have overpowered nearly every team in the last 10 weeks, and are favorites again in the championship. John Harbaugh is like Brendan: the older brother who never had a professional career, but can more than hold his own when it comes to football knowledge. His Ravens may have an aging defense, but they've seen everything before and are smart enough to adapt to each game. And while their parents Jack and Jackie may not be recovering alcoholics or divorced, they do share one large problem with Nolte's character...who to root for. How can they possibly choose? It's amazing really: the Harbaugh's have taken what is traditionally a reason to get together with family and made it their own. Like the characters in Warrior, they're playing a family game, but this time we've all been invited to watch.
If these comparisons mean nothing to you now, I'd suggest watching Warrior in the next week before the Super Bowl. I'm giving it my stamp of approval, and I hope you'll be able to say the same. You'll be surprised how moving it is, how raw the fight scenes are (seriously, I don't know how they filmed this movie without actually beating each other up a bit...here's an edited clip of the first fight just so you can see what I mean), how happy you'll feel after seeing Jennifer Morrison receive a text message, and how shockingly similar the story is to the Harbaugh Bowl. By the time the announcer jokingly says to "lock up your china" because "the boys are at it again," you'll be sufficiently hooked, and hopefully you'll agree with what I've said.
Even if you don't watch it, be prepared for the family battle of the century this weekend. We've been given a rare treat as sports fans; a real situation seemingly based on a fake story. This game deserves the ridiculous hype that it will receive, if only because I believe it will be as good of a game as Warrior is a movie. So without any further hype from me, I'll leave you with these three lines:
"You ready? You ready? Let's go to war!"
For those interested, Warrior can be found on Netflix Instant. As always, feel free to comment below. Or don't. Whatever.