Embarrassingly naive and proud of its imperialistic step into cinema. Stereotyping sports movies as dim vanity projects, it probably unleashed a constricted wave of reducing the genre to simplistic storylines, cheesy acting, deflatable machismo for years, in addition to limiting the sports-movie quality expectancy at present, explaining the few number of more (what we have to call) sophisticated pictures like Rudy and Remember the Titans. Where films on the other side of the globe were already working on incorporating believable drama into their thrilling action (Asian martial arts movies, for one), here we're stuck with two hours of a camera aimlessly following around a lonely, unproductive chum who could probably have neanderthal impersonations as his stunt double. Oh, but the action is so real, man. It makes clashing action figures placed behind a cut-out soap box television screen a thing of the past, man. Plus, that guy up there feels my underdog pain and conveniently offers some hope with its priceless inspirational undercurrent. Indeed to the latter, but nah, man, the low budget is plainly visible, and worse it's used as a justification for careless and inconsiderate filming mechanisms, perhaps the reason why sports films as we know them are horribly subjective and unappealing most of the time. You're better off with the upped energy in actual boxing footage, something I never before pictured myself recommending.