I don’t know, man. Sometimes you just throw stuff on in the background for shits and giggles and you find a show that is just exactly what you’re looking for. A non-offensive, slightly amusing story that doesn’t distract you too badly from what you’re supposed to be focusing on, but also holds your attention just enough to not be a total waste of brain cells. Because who wouldn’t think that a show starring the NBA’s Stephen Curry would be that thing? Also, I’m not sure up until I typed it for this review that I knew his name was spelled like Stephen (which is always pronounced like Steven), but his name is pronounced like Stefan? Makes me wonder if his mom Sonya pronounces her name Sōnē-ā?
The point is, this may be the most interesting thing about this show. The fact that one of the biggest sports stars in the world mispronounces his own name. Otherwise, this is a very simple sitcom that depends on you wanting to watch said superstar enter stage left every once in a while to lampoon his own awesomeness. And on the other side watch a pretty despicable dude, Danny Grossman (Adam Pally), take advantage of his affable high school friend who, again, is one of the most famous athletes in the world. Because, like most sitcoms, it all starts with a misunderstanding that snowballs. In this case, it’s a divorced, low-life Grossman who owns a sports memorabilia store (full of throwback jerseys – thus the name) that is struggling to make ends meet. Turns out back in the day Danny was the basketball star and Steph was just one of his teammates. But scandal derailed his career, Steph ascended and life went on its way. Danny goes back to the future, looking up his old friend in a scheme to garner some quick cash to save his struggling business, but somehow ends up telling Steph his daughter is dying of some unknown disease. It’s awkward, but becomes the crux of the whole series. All six episodes (which still feels like at least one too many).
This weird ad-libbed lie leads to the rekindling of the men’s friendship. Stuck in the middle is their third high school friend, who now operates essentially like the COO of Steph’s life, Kimberly Gregg (Ego Nwodim). Each episode involves the build toward a celebrity basketball tournament that Steph has Kimberly set up to raise money for Danny’s daughter’s cure, while Steph has rich-guy problems, is clueless how normal people live and generally lives in a Steph bubble created by Kimberly and his god-given greatness. Meanwhile Danny pulls his ex-wife, Samantha (Ayden Mayeri), into his scheme, and eventually his own daughter. Kimberly remains skeptical, as she knows Danny is a loser, but Steph is insistent his old buddy is legit. And, hey, it’s hard to deny someone’s daughter is dying when you have no proof. Ha ha. So we watch Danny sweat, do all sorts of finagling to cover the fact his daughter is not, in fact, dying and generally promise over and over to camera he’ll come clean with Steph, but is sidelined every time just as he’s about to unpack the truth. It’s all pretty standard sitcom fare done in the mockumentary style that we’ve seen a million times in shows like The Office, Parks and Rec, What We Do In the Shadows, Abbott Elementary and on and on.
I think your milage will vary based on your tolerance of Adam Pally. He’s a bit of a sweaty mess, and the cheek height on his beard is pretty bothersome. His character is one part nebbish, one part scammer and often times not particularly likable. They introduce his dysfunctional father (Tracy Letts), which gives us a little sympathy for being raised by an addict and reformed sociopath. But the father character, while probably the most intriguing and well-drawn on the show, is still a little all over the place in terms of his foibles and responses to Danny’s slights. It’s like the script is driving somewhere interesting, but then feels the need to take a detour into It’s Always Sunny (a show I’ve seen maybe twice) when it feels itself heading toward a genuine moment. And, look, it’s tough to lock in on emotions and ta-da magic when your show is essentially led by an idiot, and an adult man who lives in a perpetual child-like state of grace. And, sure, it can be mildly entertaining, and even has some funny moments, but I’ll be damned to understand what they’re going to do in a season two that isn’t just more idiocy and Steph making I’m-a-rich-guy-detached-from-reality jokes at his own expense. Maybe Pally will shave and save us all the horror of having to look at that thing on his face for another few hours.
