The 30 Best Football Movies, Ranked

How many times have you watched a football game and thought "That's impossible?"

My bet is "many." Take Super Bowl games alone.  The Giants infamous "helmet catch" looks like CGI. The Falcons' stunning loss to the Patriots, brilliantly documented by the Secret Base team, is the stuff of sports movie fodder,  a level of ridiculous that, had it appeared on film or in a TV show, would have drawn almost universal criticism. The writers would be asked to take it down a notch. "That could never happen in football."

But it did. And it can. Whatever one thinks of football (and there are reasons to love and loathe it), there's zero question that no game is prone to wilder flights of athleticism or knife twists of fate. The very core of it is collisions and emotional sparks flying. It's why the best football movies — whether they take place on the field, in the stands, or in a pro team's front office — are often symphonies of feeling, less indebted to sense than Hail Mary tosses of storytelling. Football is just as good a canvas for Al Pacino's scenery-chewing as Harold Lloyd's screwball comedy, as right for searing anguish as redemption. Nothing is impossible.

 Here are the 30 best football movies, ranked. 

What kind of football film list would this be without 1998's "Air Bud: Golden Receiver," the sequel to the 1997 comedy "Air Bud"? This time, the adorable yellow dog slides into a helmet and pads for some gridiron action. The family flick is as corny as it sounds, and everyone involved looks slightly embarrassed playing opposite a canine. At one point, the dog takes the ball to the house, and you can see the other players doing their damndest to accommodate his slow trot down the field.

No matter. Like all great sports movies, "Golden Receiver" sticks to the formula and delivers a predictably wholesome message about letting go and moving on that should reverberate with anyone who has ever lost a loved one. Plus, some of the football bits are genuinely fun, even if director Richard Martin clearly misunderstands the sport — none of the players are ever where they're supposed to be.

There's also a dumb subplot involving Russians who want to steal Buddy to perform in a circus ... don't think about it too much. "Golden Receiver" isn't the best of the "Air Bud" bunch, but still offers genial, simpleminded family entertainment that keeps younger viewers invested for 90 minutes.

Adam Sandler kicked off his career with a series of legendary comedies, namely "Billy Madison," "Happy Gilmore," and "The Wedding Singer." Unfortunately, age prevented the "Saturday Night Live" alum from playing the hapless goofball forever. So he pivoted and began tackling more mature roles about middle-aged men struggling with work, family, and fame. Think "Punch-Drunk Love," "Anger Management," "50 First Dates," and 2005's under-appreciated football comedy, "The Longest Yard." Don't misunderstand. When I say more mature, I mean Sandler reduces the bathroom gags from 10 to five.

In the case of "The Longest Yard," a remake of the classic Burt Reynolds film of the same name, Sandler slides into a tough-guy role and allows his supporting cast to execute the dumb pratfalls and lowbrow humor while he watches from the sidelines. He's too cool for school, you see? And while the actor lacks Reynold's onscreen presence, his straight-man approach keeps the bumbling comedy from toppling over the edge.

At times, director Peter Segal confuses the material for a hip-hop music video, but still finds time for slow-motion sequences of male bonding on the football field. The final game between the guards and prisoners carries enough weight to make viewers fret over the outcome. "The Longest Yard" is far from an artistic triumph, but as far as football comedies go, the film goes down like a cold beer on a hot summer day.

My initial reaction to "Leatherheads" was steeped in disappointment. A comedy about the early days of American football starring George Clooney (who also directed), Renée Zellweger, and John Krasinski should have been an easy touchdown. However, the film, unfortunately, didn't land for me. On repeat viewings, however, I've come to appreciate this free-spirited underdog tale, and often find myself quoting various scenes on occasion — "Well, you wouldn't punch me in the back, would you? Because I got a bad back."

Clooney aims for a slap-sticky tone on par with those old screwball comedies of the 1920s and '30s and occasionally scores a big laugh, but "Leatherheads" works best as a bite-sized tale about a group of misfits coming together to steer professional football towards relevance. Everyone involved brings their A-game, and it looks like they're having a blast. Krasinski does solid work as a young, up-and-coming star. Comparatively, Clooney delivers the same comic zeal he displayed in the Coen brothers' comedies "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?," "Intolerable Cruelty," and "Burn After Reading."

On the negative side, Zellweger is miscast in a role demanding more razzle-dazzle, Clooney's direction lacks focus — is he going for satire, parody, homage, or all three? — and the finale is a little underwhelming. "Leatherheads" may not live up to its A-grade potential, but give it a chance and you may fall under its spell. 

The cruel reality of sports is the focal point of Taylor Hackford's long-winded but well-acted character study about a football great known as the Grey Ghost (Dennis Quaid) and his efforts to remain in the limelight when his football skills fail to produce the fame and fortune they once promised. The film chronicles his life from a fresh-faced college superstar to a broken man clinging to relevance in his later years following a few unsuccessful stints in the NFL. We watch his relationship with Babs (Jessica Lange) deteriorate due to his insecurities, and lament a handful of bad decisions that lead to financial problems, death, and heartbreak.

While a tad repetitive and messy, "Everybody's All-American" is still worth a look for its excellent performances, particularly by Lange and co-star John Goodman, and the darker truths about professional sports Hackford explores over the needlessly long 127-minute runtime. Legends are a dime a dozen, but few go on to live up to their potential and typically wind up in a bar regaling older folk with stories of their former accomplishments.

The "Major League" of football movies, "Necessary Roughness," never ventures far from formula and offers very few surprises, but gets by on the strength of its charming cast, well-timed humor, and good-natured tone. This is your classic underdog story about a group of misfits who assemble on a college team after a scandal prohibits the school from bringing in any all-star recruits for the upcoming season. Into the mix falls Paul Blake (Scott Bakula), a 34-year-old former talent who never used his college eligibility, a graduate assistant (Sinbad), a female soccer pro (Kathy Ireland), a Samurai warrior (Michael Dolan), and a big guy with a heart of gold known as "the Slender" (Peter Tuiasosopo). 

Naturally, this dysfunctional squad must learn to work together to achieve fame and glory. It's simple stuff, but some of the gags — including a bit where Dolan's character literally kicks the crap out of the opposing team — are genuinely hilarious, and the cast — also consisting of Héctor Elizondo, Robert Loggia, Jason Bateman, and Rob Schneider — exhibits enough warmth to make this plucky team worth rooting for.

Keanu Reeves and Gene Hackman in a football drama based on the 1987 NFL strike that led to replacement players stepping in for NFL stars? Count me in. "The Replacements" may be little more than a run-of-the-mill comedy, but a game cast of characters aptly carry the picture across the goal line.

Reeves stars as Shane Falco, a former football star who gets another chance to flaunt his talents when a strike forces Washington Sentinels coach Jimmy McGinty (Hackman) to stack his squad with alternates. Into the mix falls a ragtag group of grunts led by Orlando Jones, Rhys Ifans, and a young Jon Favreau, among others, and the band must learn to work together to prove their worth.

Directed by Howard Deutch, "The Replacements" leans a little too hard on raunchy laughs that make it resemble something akin to a 90s Adam Sandler comedy, for better or worse. However, the talent involved — particularly Ifans as a Welsh punter whose kicking skills are as breathtaking as his smoking habit — manages to raise the material to better-than-expected heights. At worst, "The Replacements" provides amiable amusement for anyone needing a Saturday night pick-me-up.

"Little Giants" is a fun, simpleminded tale about two rival brothers, played by Rick Moranis and Ed O'Neill, who go head-to-head in Pee-Wee football to prove who is the de facto king of their hometown. Kevin (O'Neill) is the square-jawed local hero with a polished team known as the Cowboys, while Danny (Moranis) is the down-on-his-luck scrub who must assemble the town castoffs — the Giants — into a cohesive whole.

Predictably, the Giants overcome obstacles, put aside their differences, and learn to work together just in time for the big game. The story is tried and true, but fun to watch if only because the kids are effortlessly charming in that '90s sitcom way and effective enough to warrant our affection. O'Neill and Moranis play their parts surprisingly straight and are careful never to upstage their pint-sized co-stars. Overall, "Little Giants" is a decent family comedy about the importance of teamwork and friendship; a film that will make one long for the good old days of '90s cinema.

"The Blind Side" plays fast and loose with facts — so much so that its main subject, NFL star Michael Oher, publicly criticized the film – but still works as a crowd-pleasing drama thanks in large part to Sandra Bullock's Academy Award-winning performance. Based on Michael Lewis' book, "The Blind Side: Evolution of a Game," John Lee Hancock's film chronicles Leigh Anne Tuohy's attempts to turn Michael Oher, a young, homeless teenager, into a football star after taking him into her home. Co-starring Tim McGraw, Quinton Aaron, Kathy Bates, and Lily Collins, "The Blind Side" wears its heart on its sleeve and doesn't get much deeper than a Lifetime original movie.

No matter. The cast is excellent, and some of the football scenes crackle. Plus, we get a unique look at the college recruitment process, where coaches try to coax players into joining their teams, a fascinating exercise largely dictated by familial ties, one that places the Tuohy clan under a fair amount of scrutiny in the final act due to their unbridled loyalty to Ole Miss.

"The Blind Side" lacks an edge that might have propelled the picture to greater heights, but Bullock is great, and the story uplifts like all great sports pictures. Give the film a whirl, then read the true story.

After making mincemeat of golf in "Happy Gilmore," Adam Sandler set his sights on college football with this upbeat comedy about a slow-minded country bumpkin whose inner rage transforms him into a star on the gridiron. Laced with an abundance of shameless low-brow humor, "The Waterboy" never shies away from its goal. Here we have a dumb, one-note comedy that never rises above its silly premise. Still, the big moments — many involving Henry Winkler's downtrodden coach and Kathy Bates' southern fried mom — hit hard enough to rank this misadventure amongst the Sandman's better efforts.

Indeed, where else are you going to see a player kick the bejesus out of a foe in the end zone? Or witness a bizarre family dinner featuring alligators as the main dish? Or, in one of the film's more inspired moments, watch as a towel boy (afforded the same opportunity as our hero) gets leveled by his much larger opponents on ESPN. It's all in good fun, mind you, and while "The Waterboy" never hits the same heights as "Happy Gilmore" or "The Wedding Singer," it's still a goofy good time sure to leave viewers in stitches.

"The Express" had the misfortune of arriving in theaters following a string of sports dramas during the 2000s, namely "Remember the Titans," "Radio," "Friday Night Lights," "The Longest Yard," "Invincible," and "We Are Marshall" — and those are just the football flicks. By 2008, audiences seemed to have grown tired of the genre, 2009's "The Blind Side" notwithstanding, and all but left "The Express" wallowing in obscurity.

Too bad. While relatively routine in its handling of Ernie Davis' true story, this otherwise solid production does a terrific job outlining the events that led to Davis becoming the first African-American to win the Heisman Trophy. The film follows the superstar (played by Rob Brown) as he endures racism and other hurdles during his incredible run, and details his relationship with Syracuse University coach Ben Schwartzwalder (Dennis Quaid), who hand-picks Davis as running back Jim Brown's successor. Director Gary Felder and screenwriter Charles Leavitt (based on the book "Ernie Davis: The Elmira Express" by Robert Gallagher) handle this true-life tale with panache, resulting in a sure-fire romp with more depth than your average sports film.

Sometimes even the most rudimentary sports drama satisfies our thirst for inspiration. Case in point: "American Underdog," based on the remarkable true story of NFL star and Super Bowl champion Kurt Warner. That tagline may sound like a cheesy after-school special, but make no mistake: "American Underdog" absolutely delivers everything a sports fan could ask for, including terrific football sequences, a rare sneak peek behind the scenes of the NFL, and an incredible rags-to-riches storyline powerful enough to make grown men cry.

Starring Zachary Levi, who bears little resemblance to Warner, but has his mannerisms down pat, "American Underdog" follows its titular hero as he overcomes various obstacles en route to the NFL. Said barriers include homelessness, poverty, and, in one terrifying moment, a deadly tornado. Eventually, the man landed on his feet and earned MVP honors during the regular season and for his performance in the Super Bowl. Here, we have an incredible tale that should inspire anyone pursuing a dream.

Credit to directors Jon and Andrew Erwin for keeping the proceedings grounded, even when the story threatens to dive head-first into shmaltz. Everything, including Warner's romance with Brenda (Anna Paquin) and his torrid relationship with St. Louis Rams offensive coordinator Mike Martz (Chance Kelly), is presented realistically so that when the big moments come teeming with John Debney's soaring score, you can't help but raise your hands and cheer.

After watching "Concussion," two things are certain: The NFL has a big problem it needs to address, and Will Smith is a damn good actor. The Academy Award winner flaunts his stuff in this tale of forensic pathologist Bennet Omalu, who attempts to connect the dots between NFL players and chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE). The more he learns, the greater the secrets Omalu uncovers, many leading to the most influential people in professional sports.

"Concussion" presents a darker view of football that too often gets swept under the rug. It's an engrossing film packed with outstanding performances (particularly by Smith), and a no-holds-barred realistic look at the National Football League, warts and all. Is the NFL problematic? Yes. Will anyone do anything to protect the players on the field? Time will tell, but at least men like Omalu are willing to put their careers on the line to bring these troublesome problems to light. Co-starring Alec Baldwin, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Arliss Howard, Paul Reiser, Luke Wilson, David Morse, and Albert Brooks, "Concussion" attacks challenging issues head-on, and raises interesting questions for audiences to chew on long after the credits roll.

Good sports movies transcend the genre by presenting more significant stakes than winning or losing on the field. The final touchdown, basketball shot, or goal serves as the proverbial icing on the cake, but the life lessons learned along the way make the films unforgettable.

"The Program," a sports drama directed by "Major League" helmer David S. Ward, understands this better than most and does a bang-up job presenting the pros and cons of college football, a complex world primarily driven by greedy businessmen who exploit talented young athletes struggling with off-field problems. Unfortunately, the picture doesn't fully come together due mainly to overly simplistic subplots revolving around alcoholism, romantic turmoil, and academics, but that just means it's a good sports flick rather than a great one. This type of movie aims high and achieves a few first downs, but too often settles for field goals rather than risking it all for the big score.

The cast is superb – James Caan, Halle Berry, Omar Epps, and Craig Sheffer! — and the football scenes look and feel authentic. As expected, we witness another final play with cheesy commentators and slow-motion action, and our main characters apply learned lessons to achieve victory. While everything works out in the end, life goes on for our motley crew, proving football is little more than a small step in a much larger journey.

Not necessarily a sports movie, per se, Warren Beatty's classic "Heaven Can Wait" revolves around a football star named Joe, who dies, goes to Heaven, and learns his death was an egregious error. He would have survived the accident, you see? As such, the powers that be grant him the opportunity to return to Earth and take over the body of a recently murdered multi-millionaire industrialist. Joe trains his new body for the big leagues and tries to pick up where his previous life left off, though his attempts prove more difficult than expected.

Light, often hilarious (thanks in no small part to Charles Grodin), "Heaven Can Wait" is an amiable comedy that offers a little bit of everything for everyone. Football is Joe's primary focus, but a romance between him and Julie Christie offsets his plans. At the same time, a subplot involving Grodin and Dyan Cannon as a pair of murderous lovers pursuing Joe's fortune supply a little (lighthearted) danger. Everything leads to a final game that's both poignant and heartbreaking, making "Heaven Can Wait" an old-time yarn worth revisiting.

Before "Friday Night Lights," the Tom Cruise vehicle "All the Right Moves" took a pragmatic approach to football way back in 1983. Despite featuring only a few scenes on the gridiron, the repercussions that stem from these riveting sequences impact everyone involved, all of whom wish to vacate the backwater town of Ampipe, Pennsylvania. Coach Nickerson (Craig T. Nelson) hopes his methods draw the attention of more prominent schools; Stef (Cruise) seeks an engineering degree and expects his skills to deliver a scholarship.

Football is viewed as a way out for many young men, who all strive to escape a life of work inside the local steel mill. Some, like Brian Riley (Chris Penn), get stuck in the town due to poor life choices. Running back Vinnie Salvucci (Paul Carafotes) turns to a life of crime and violence after failing to lead his team to victory. Those who stick around end up as drunks in the local bar, prone to silly vandalism and pranks — lost boys who never got a chance to grow up.

"All the Right Moves" brings up interesting questions without supplying many answers. While the characters mostly turn out okay, the story has an overarching grimness that leads to a bittersweet conclusion. Here, a coach can change a man's life based on their performance on the gridiron, where the difference between failure and success often comes down to a few inches. 

"North Dallas Forty" takes a scalpel to the cold-hearted reality of professional football, and dissects the business side of the sport operated by money-hungry owners and general managers, with no empathy for the players. Following aging wide receiver Phill Elliott (Nick Nolte) during the final days of his run with the North Dallas Bulls, the Ted Kotcheff-directed picture pulls back the curtain and reveals a world of lavish parties and drugs. Painkillers are passed around like candy, and unruly behavior gets swept under the rug as long as the player committing the act benefits the team.

None of this is particularly revelatory in our modern age of social media and 24-hour ESPN. In 1979, however, "North Dallas Forty" offered a cold, hard dose of reality. Elliott is an interesting fellow, a man at the end of the line who can't fathom a life without football, no matter how much the sport takes from him physically and mentally. His gradual realization of the cynical nature of the game is heartbreaking to watch, and Nolte delivers a tour de force performance that ranks amongst the actor's finest.

"North Dallas Forty" doesn't follow genre rules and aims higher than your average sports picture. That it remains relevant to this day speaks volumes about its effectiveness as a compelling drama about real people trying to stay afloat in a world propped up by money and greed.

Howard Hawkes famously said that a good movie has three good scenes and no bad ones. "Varsity Blues," I'm sad to say, has some truly awful scenes. There's no way around it (The barbecue scene, just to name one example, feels beamed in from another Earth where humans have only been raised on "Days Of Our Lives" and all actors have two left feet). Despite being generally loved by millennials, it's worth remembering that Brian Robbins' teen comedy-drama for MTV films whiffs as often as hits.

That said: those hits. The rage that powers Coach Kilmer (Jon Voight) is palpably terrifying. And the sequence in which Mox and the West Cannan Coyotes confront — then refuse — to play for Kilmer has only appreciated in power since the picture's release, as has the storyline involving Billy Bob. Texas' Colleyville Heritage had nine players admit to doping in 2004, all but with their coach's blessing. And while I would advise you not to Google "high school football player takes life," doing so paints an instantaneous portrait of how real the mental strain young athletes face can be, particularly when the schools they play for fail them. 

"Varsity Blues" may be operatic and silly, but the primal howl at its core is genuine. It isn't the best football or high school football movie on this list, but the great scenes and seminal soundtrack it offers are All-Pro worthy just the same. It's a good movie. 

I almost left "We Are Marshall" off this list, because for all intents and purposes it should be a better movie. McG directs the true story of a plane crash that killed 75 players and coaches of a college football program with all the subtlety of a neon pink sledgehammer, and most of the performances follow suit. Anthony Mackie, years before his MCU breakout, acts as though his character's life is on the line even when it isn't. Matthew McConaughey, years before the McConaissance, stretches his performing muscles and strains them. The film is frequently eye-rolling and, most of all, it's loud. 

But you know what? "We Are Marshall" also works. Anyone who's ever been to a game at The Big House or Tiger Stadium can tell you that volume is king in college football. 
Emotions run high, fast, and frequent, and "We Are Marshall" taps into this emotional rollercoaster adeptly, particularly during its manipulative but kind of gangbusters football sequences. That makes it more than worthy of inclusion on this list, even over better but less football-centric movies like "Heaven Can Wait" or "The Last Boy Scout." Those are movies with football in them. "We Are Marshall" is football. 

I'm a dyed in the wool Chicago Bears fan. I cried when we lost the Super Bowl to the Indianapolis Colts and also when we drafted Justin Fields. I order deep dish pizza on game day, even when I'm in Brooklyn, even when we're down 21-0. The Bears are part of my soul. And I know they always will be. 

 I say all that because I've always been jealous of Philadelphia Eagles fans, who got not one but two solid movies about loving the Eagles so much that it irrevocably shapes you. One is "Silver Linings Playbook." It won Oscars. The other is "Invincible," starring the very-much-from-Boston Mark Whalberg. Against all odds, that's the film that makes this list. 

It's not just because "Invincible" is a purer sports movie; it's because Ericson Core's film, despite lacking any Philly accents, is a genuinely great Philly movie. It's surprisingly gritty for PG Disney fare, much closer to Coach Bombay's DUI in "Mighty Ducks" than the fantasy zombie onslaught of "The Big Green," and it has zero shame about being a sports movie, embracing both the inherent corniness and unabashed triumph of the underdog story at its core. In his incredible op-ed "Resist The Darkness, Support Philadelphia," Tom McCalister describes the city of Brotherly Love as a wave of "optimism and anger and reconciliation ... always either developing a hangover or trying to cure one." Against all odds, "Invincible" taps into that in its own, family-ready way — and that rocks. 

Early on in "Big Fan," Paul Aufiero (Patton Oswalt) waits on hold. In his hands is a sweat-drenched notebook. On his mind, nothing but vitriol. When Paul's call is accepted by "SportsTalk Radio," he unleashes all of his well-rehearsed hatred about the week's coming Giants-vs-Eagles game. "Listen up, Philadelphia Phil," he sneers, "and all you other brotherly love jabronis who've been talking smack all week on this show — get out your forks because you're about to eat your words!" He hangs up and the camera pans back to reveal the smallness of his room, a weathered football poster dominating most of it.

No film, much less sequence, has ever quite captured the masculinity parade of modern football fandom. The sport is gladiatorial. Your rivals don't lose so much as perish. And fans who thrive and emerge victorious are kings of all they survey, if only for some hours. "Big Fan" examines this dynamic in piercing detail as it watches Aufiero go from the world's #1 New York Giants fan to a beaten, prison-bound reprobate without ever losing track of the loneliness and insecurity that accompany both. It also offers one of Oswalt's best performances, a harbinger for the funny but deeply felt work he'd yield for "Justified," "Young Adult," and countless other films. 

But more than anything, "Big Fan" understands that fandom and football existence in codependence and reveals the toxicity in both. It's worth cheering for. 

Everyone remembers "Jerry Maguire" for the quotes. It's hard not to. There are a plethora of all-time greats in Cameron Crowe's seminal romantic comedy, from "Show me the money!" to "You had me at hello." What people forget is that "Jerry Maguire" is a solid football movie to boot, one which understands why football inspires as much as it can shape our decisions.

For starters, Rod Tidwell is, without a doubt, the most iconic and electric football player ever committed to film, one that justifiably netted Cuba Gooding Jr. his Oscar. The fact that the National Football League made a convincing "Football Life" mockumentary about the character in honor of "Jerry Maguire's" 20 year anniversary should offer indelible proof of how fully realized Tidwell is. For another, the moment where Tidwell gets knocked unconscious and inspires Maguire to race towards Dorothy Boyd (Renee Zellweger) encapsulates how sports becomes a mirror for what matters in our lives, from the passion we have for a team to who we wish to share our passions with. That's why the romantic comedy and football elements of "Jerry Maguire" don't clash. Just like an agent and his client and like sports and real life, they are perfectly in concert. It has us at hello. 

"Any Given Sunday" was released two years before the Atlanta Falcons drafted Michael Vick and changed quarterbacking forever. And it was released decades before Colin Kaepernick decided to kneel during the National Anthem at a 49ers game, sending shockwaves through conservative America and much of football fandom. I mention all of this because "Any Given Sunday"  contains a scene where Jamie Foxx, as Steamin Willie Beamen, confronts Al Pacino about the sacrifices he's made for football and utters this prescient statement: "You some scared old man ... you feel like if I play my way, I just might win ... so I'm gonna stay who I am, and I'm gonna play my way, get my dollars up so that when you wave me, trade me, or injured-reserve me ... I'll be worth ten times what I am today."

This is to say that "Any Given Sunday," in its breathlessly cynical, heavy-handed, and brutally cinematic way, anticipated our modern conversations about Black lives and sports more fully than anyone could've guessed. What is Al Pacino doing in this scene if not saying "Stick to sports" (And were those words ever said to Aaron Rodgers)? The politics of "Any Given Sunday" don't make it good (some of them have aged poorly!) but its desire to say all the quiet parts concerning race, player health, and capitalism out loud is exhilarating, as are its bone-crunching football scenes.

 It is an uneven but necessary ride worth 10 times what it was decades ago.  

There are few sports more hyper-masculine than football. Heck, there are few activities more hyper-masculine than football, period. Riding a bull while chewing tobacco and beef jerky at the same time has nothing on Hank Williams III croon-screaming "Are you ready for some football?" Football is the safe, steroidal-presenting vessel through which some men access their feelings, for better and often much worse.

It's little wonder, then, that "Brian's Song" is something of a "guy-cry" classic, as widely reductive as that term is. But it's worth noting that the story of the Chicago Bears' Gayle Sayers (Billy Dee Williams) and Brian Piccolo (James Cann), two football players who transcend their differences when Piccolo is diagnosed with cancer, is directed with more restraint than any game of football ever could be. Buzz Kulik's film eschews sentimentality for deep feeling, and it's that frame of football that made the movie a go-to for boomer dads everywhere. 

By extension, though, the film is also a tremendous gateway into more mature cinema. That mirrors the journey of "Brian's Song" as a pop culture curio, from its roots as a TV movie for ABC to getting picked up for theatrical release by Columbia Pictures. "Brian's Song" belongs on this list not just because it's good, but because it gets at the heart of why so many men flock to the gridiron game even as it eschews machismo and easy fan service once it does. It's a rousing, sensitive triumph. 

"Remember The Titans" is incisive. "Remember The Titans" is cheesy. More than any other film on this list, Boaz Yakin's inspirational football drama ping-pongs between profundity and meaty ham-fisted-ness yet emerges all the better for it because, somehow, this is a film which rings pathos from a bunch of youths in old-age makeup singing The Temptations at a funeral. In fairness, that's what happens when your adaptation of a true story is loose at best and the youths include a murderer's row of great acting talent (Ryan Hurst, Wood Harris, Ryan Gosling, and Donald Faison just to name a few). And the adults are the opposite of slouches, too.

Let's discuss Denzel Washington and Will Patton for a bit. Both actors are, to put it mildly, overqualified for the roles of Coaches Herman Boone and Bill Yoast, respectively. But when Boone exposes Yoast's micro-aggressions with pinpoint accuracy ("Which players you talking about, Coach?") or Yoast confronts an official for throwing the game in front of hundreds, the film takes on a Super Bowl-ready gravity. Washington and Patton refuse to treat the film like a regular-season game, and when Yakin rises to meet them "Remember The Titans" becomes more compelling than it has any right to be. Great teams win games in spite of themselves. That's how "Remember The Titans" plays, too. Crown it champion. 

There has been no shortage of tremendous non-fiction football television as of late. HBO's perennial "Hard Knocks" is going strong (and now has a regular-season companion!); "All Or Nothing," its Amazon Prime rival, is approaching equal levels of incision and access. And then there's "Last Chance U," the powerful and discomforting show about the East Mississippi Community College Tigers, which is soon to have its own scripted, sports drama counterpart. 

I mention all of these because "Undefeated," which released 11 years ago, is both a precursor and inferior to these programs. Like "Last Chance U," it is also set in the depreciated South and focuses on inner city youths. But unlike "Last Chance U," "Undefeated" gets saddled with a white savior narrative pretty quickly. Coach Bill Courtney is hired to turn the Manassas Tigers team around and make better men of his troubled but big-hearted players. If you're rolling your eyes just reading that, yes, it's understandable. Where sociological subtlety is concerned, "Undefeated" is no "Hoop Dreams." 

And yet: in many ways, "Undefeated" is football's answer to that Criterion-cosigned basketball drama. For all the tired cliches it traffics in, Dan Lindsay and TJ Martin's film mounts an offensive attack on one's heartstrings. It bludgeons. It gets brutal. And then it makes you believe in a hard-fought victory. The fact that it does is why "Undefeated" earned an Academy Award nomination for best documentary, and makes it the giant whose shoulders all non-fiction football programming stands on. 

"Do you remember those boyhood days when going to College was greater than going to Congress — and you'd rather be Right Tackle than President?" So begins Harold Lloyd's seminal silent comedy "The Freshman," which gave birth to the whole college comedy genre. You don't arrive at "Animal House" or "Old School" without it, nor "Pitch Perfect," "Neighbors," or countless other classics. Respect is due.

But the question isn't whether "The Freshman" is worthy of adulation so much as if it's a good gridiron movie, and the answer, resoundingly, is yes. Though the football played by Lloyd bears little resemblance to the padded, brutal mayhem of today's game, the film's triumphant final sequence captures the intersections of higher learning and athletics, from the aspirational to the exhilarating. Lloyd's comedic chops lend the sequence a heightened storytelling clarity that can go missing from sports movie bouts. So in its own wistful and old-fashioned way, "The Freshman" makes football as personal and visceral as any other film in cinema's canon. You might rather be right tackle than President after you finish it. 

In "Little Big League," a child manages the Minnesota Twins. In "Armageddon," Bruce Willis drills into an asteroid to save humanity. Both of these plots are far more realistic than anything that happens during the final, stunning act of Ivan Reitman's "Draft Day," a film which will live in infamy amongst analytics fans everywhere for not jumping the shark so much as punching it in the nose then setting it on fire. I could explain why, but I would go well beyond my word count (If you're interested, The Ringer did it wonderfully here).

But the point is that it doesn't matter. "Little Big League" is fun. "Armageddon" is in The Criterion Collection. And the insane machinations that Sonny Walker (Kevin Costner) employs in order to get Vonte Mack, no matter what, are the stuff of stirring and stupid legend. Even better, they get at the heart of why a draft day's so exciting. On any given draft in any given year, a single person can be offered a job in a great but down on its luck city and transform its fortunes forever. That's not just the stuff of good sport. That's the parlance of myth, and it happens time and time again, from MJ to Payton to Lebron. The draft matters.

In "Draft Day," Ivan Reitman and a sterling cast treat one NFL Draft like it's the pinnacle platform for storytelling and stick the landing even as they fumble it. That's sloppy, wonderful football. 

When Adam Sandler decided to remake the seminal Burt Renyolds prison football movie "The Longest Yard," some were surprised at how gritty his take was. Such people probably never saw the original. More than any other film on this list, the 1974 "The Longest Yard" plants itself at the crossroads of crowd-pleasing and crowd-challenging, taking a righteously anti-authoritarian stance that explores man's fight for dignity in a system designed to humiliate them. Eddie Albert's Warden Hazen is nothing less than Richard Nixon-light, and the movie's morally dubious messaging raises chilling questions about what it actually takes to defeat those who wield power unjustly.

If that makes "The Longest Yard" sound heavy, rest assured it isn't. Robert Aldrich was an outstanding action director, and the no-nonsense approach he brought to "The Flight of The Phoenix" and "The Dirty Dozen" carries over here. Unlike the hyperactive cuts which define "Any Given Sunday" and "Friday Night Lights," the guards vs prisoners game of "The Longest Yard" is stark and straightforward. It smacks of authenticity, as does the Georgia prison where the film was shot.

But none of this would endure if Burt Reynolds' portrayal of Paul "Wrecking" Crewe wasn't one for his career Mount Rushmore, the role that made him a movie star and international sensation. Football makes icons of many, and through "The Longest Yard" it gave Reynolds the kind of once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and boost that audiences remember for decades. No wonder Sandler wanted a shot at it, too. 

Football is not a cult of personality. Though it is impossible to argue that the game's superstars aren't deliberately presented to the world as a person to be admired and revered, it also favors the unknowns. Heard of Gabriel Davis? You hadn't before last week, when he scored four receiving touchdowns for the Bills in that playoff game mentioned earlier in this post. Davis is now the stuff of Buffalo Bills legend, and there's no one on Earth who would've penned "a new playoff record" as his narrative.

What I'm getting at is that football, with some frequency, makes stories like "Rudy" possible. If it's not actively creating opportunities for a walk on like Rudy Ruettiger (who wanted to play football at the college of Notre Dame but had neither the grades nor tuition to make that possible) to find a moment of glory, then it's inspiring dreamers to seek it out. "Rudy" felt improbable upon release. It still does. And it plays like gangbusters, to boot. 

Why? Three iconic actors (Ned Beatty, Charles Dutton and, of course, Sean Astin) giving it their all. Director David Anspaugh, meanwhile, has a knack for "improbable Indiana sports movies," channeling the Midwest's quiet but pervasive optimism in hope that almost feels mythic, just as he did in the classic "Hoosiers." It's ironic in the best way that "Rudy," for elevating one unknown to legendary status, is clearly a team effort. Football wouldn't have it any other way. 

If you say "Friday Night Lights" to anyone — a friend, a stranger, even a football neophyte — they think of that score. You know the one. You're likely humming it to yourself now, the memory of those reverb-flecked guitar notes blooming in your heart. Explosions In The Sky's contribution to Peter Berg's 2001 classic is one of the all-time great compositions for sports TV or film, but its also the Rosetta Stone which unlocks why Berg's film soars. More than any other art ever realized, "Friday Night Lights" understands how football makes you feel. If you've played the game, this movie gets you. If you've ever watched football with awe, passivity, or horror, this movie gets you. And if football has ever shaped the gravity of your universe, then this film is maybe less eager to get you, but it does. 

Just look at the sequence where Boobie Miles cleans out his locker due to injury never to play football again, realized with career-best intensity by Derek Luke. Just listen to Coach Gaines' speech about "two more quarters", which stares down the existential dread of playing a game that can break your body and weaponizes it for transcendent performance. It has clear eyes, a full heart, and cannot lose, even as it catalogs unimaginable loss with brutal honesty. "Friday Night Lights" is every facet of football realized as cinema and it also birthed a near-perfect TV show.

 It is the best football movie by 100 yards. Turn that score up.