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If you've seen one sports movie, you've seen them all. And if you've seen one lately, it was probably made by Walt Disney, a movie studio that apparently has cornered the sports-movie market. Mickey Mouse must be spending his mornings on the trading floor of the Chicago Board of Trade buying up everyone's sports movies -- "buy, buy, buy!" he yells while Donald, somewhere in the universe, has his shirt eaten by ants.

In Disney's total acquisition of the sports-movie genre they bring us Invincible, an inspirational film -- aren't they all? -- about a South Philadelphia school teacher who goes to an open tryout with the Eagles and makes the team. In a world where the NFL draft, greedy players, greedier agents and greediest team owners decide who plays, our hero, Vince Papale (Mark Wahlberg) simply shows he can run, catch and tackle and he's given a slot. No numbers, no dollar amounts, no contracts -- Papale was just grateful to be on a playing field. If only the NFL had as much heart.

Invincible, which is a title that's never really explained, follows the style and tempo of all the other Disney sports flicks. It's like Glory Road with fewer racists. Like Miracle on grass. Like Remember the Titans but not in high school. Like The Rookie but with football. Like The Greatest Game Ever Played with adults. If these were war films they would be considered unpopular military propaganda, feel-good flicks to make you swing by your local recruiter, but because they're sports films jersey-wearing America gobbles them up like they were $1 stadium hot dogs. More, more, more.

Some viewers will be turned off because Invincible was created in the well-worn Disney sports mold. The studio probably has a template, which would no doubt reveal the genre's secrets: "Insert motivational workout scene here and score it with era-appropriate rock music" or "Give coach his pep-talk speech after the team begins losing, never before." Other viewers will enjoy that the film resembles others like it.

I'm getting bored with movies like Invincible, but I was moved by its portrayal of the material. Vince Papale, who was a real guy who struck gold when he tried out for the Eagles in 1976, is shown here as a sympathetic guy, a man who's fallen on hard times only to be kicked in the teeth by his wife, who leaves him at the first sign of trouble. One character asks, "Does she really think you're the only guy in the world who can't provide for his family?" Yeah she really does and that's why she leaves him with a note that says he'll never amount to anything. Even his dad, when he hears of the tryouts, suggest he not go: "A man can only take so much failure," he tells him.

The climate in Philadelphia at the time was ripe for stories like this. As America planned for its 200th birthday, workers in Philadelphia went on strike, their bills went unpaid and many started drinking. The movie suggests that a working-class hero like Papale could lift the average man's spirits. The game can't pay a fan's bills, but the film made the connection for me that sports are ingrained in the soul of our culture. The fans must have been thinking, "Maybe I can't pay the heating bill, or drive a nice car, or afford luxury items, but hey, my Eagles are winning and that's a start."

While the material is presented in a way that makes it more effective than the genre probably deserves, Invincible also shows what a supremely overrated actor Mark Wahlberg can be under most circumstances. As rippley and toned as his muscles were for his role, he's still as flat as a Philly cheesesteak run over by US Steel truck. And he, and everyone else, talks in expositional sentences. Come on, no one walks into a room with this kind of dialogue: "Hey Johnny, how was your day operating a metal puncher on the factory floor, where your father worked his fingers to the bone before his wife died and you were left without a mother, who would have helped you nurse your leg injury, which occasionally flares up in the winter if it weren't for your hard work and determination?" Only bad writing can think of banter this tiresome.

Luckily, sports movies don't need much dialogue. Maybe that's why Invincible has a football montage to Ted Nugent's "Stranglehold." Have you ever heard the song? It's like eight minutes. I look at it as eight minutes with no talking.

I enjoyed Invincible probably more than I'm willing to fess up to. It took all the predictable turns, but it touched me the way all these sports movies usually do. Wahlberg is too wooden for movies with people (he'd do well in a movie about picnic benches), but his Papale is led into football battle by a surly batch of South Philly friends and his dogged coach played by Greg Kinnear, all of them playing up to the script never down to it. With a superb group of costars and a truly romantic love affair with the game of football, Invincible shows its earned its spot on the Disney team. And sports movies, as frequent as they are with Disney, are still remarkable movie experiences.

Just beware when Mickey starts yelling "Sell, sell, sell!"