Rivers is an ideal subject for The Playbook. He's among an admirably outspoken cadre of NBA coaches who aren't afraid to speak out about racism - a topic that sports fans, perhaps narrow-mindedly, find divisive. And now that the Black Lives Matter movement is increasingly embraced by the mainstream, including the notoriously conservative NFL, Rivers should be heralded as a pioneer. The show documents how he and then-wife Kris, who's white, were targets of racially motivated harassment, and how "skinheads" burned down his house in San Antonio.
Rivers addressed racism in the NBA as far back as 1994, in his book Those Who Love the Game. Maybe that's something The Playbook should have mentioned. Sticking to a 30-minute format sometimes renders the show frustratingly superficial, and instead of focusing tightly on one component of Rivers' experiences and hard-earned wisdom, it's a quick-hit catchall of his philosophies. The show explains Ubuntu as something embraced by African luminaries Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu, but doesn't really get into how it's a spiritual, collectivist ideal that was key in South African's abolition of Apartheid. The Playbook illustrates how Rivers had the Celtics shouting "Ubuntu!" during pregame pep talks, and crediting the idea as a significant factor in their championship run, but oddly never makes the connection to the Clippers' show of unity in the face of Sterling's grotesque remarks.
Despite its superficialities, The Playbook is still reasonably compelling sports-doc TV. It strives for a broadly inspiring tone, and Rivers' story has it in abundance. Its commitment to profiling diverse international figures is commendable. Sure, it's a bit puffy, but its intentions are pure. And it's absolutely preferable to overly reverential tripe like HBO's faux-insider coach profile Belichick and Saban, which put the microphone in front of two old white guys who had nothing interesting to say about themselves or the world, probably because what they'd say would indict them as complete a-holes. In that context, bring on Rivers and Jill Ellis and Dawn Staley, please - and maybe next time, give them hourlong documentaries.
