You recognize Bomani Jones is about to say something funny, deadly serious or each when he spits out a sentence like “The query is easy” or “Let me inform you a secret” or, on this case, “Here’s the thing.”
Explaining why he not commonly debates sports with people on television, Jones, 42, paused dramatically, his lanky frame swimming in sweatpants as he sat on the sofa of his Harlem apartment. “Don’t nobody need to argue with me on television,” he said, a snap in his voice, dropping right into a baritone. “Ain’t an entire lot of individuals going to come back out a winner. In consequence, I don’t come out a winner. I just come out a bully.”
What’s characteristic here is the combination of swagger and self-awareness, and likewise how quickly he shifted angles when making some extent. Jones did it again along with his final thought: “You’ll be able to make an argument that I should allow them to win from time to time,” he said, before one other certainly one of those punchy setups: “I’ll be honest.” Pause. “I’m not that good at that.”
Bomani Jones has been arguing with sports journalists on ESPN shows like “Across the Horn” and “Highly Questionable” for nearly 20 years. “Game Theory With Bomani Jones,” entering its second season on HBO on Friday, is the primary time he’s sitting at his own desk alone. And while he’s got good enough charisma and dynamism for the job, the actual challenge is pulling off something that, he might be the primary to inform you, almost never works: a comic book show about sports.
“That is something that nobody has really discovered,” Jones said, adding that he included himself. Television is filled with shows starring clever comedians doing topical jokes and sports journalists making smart points, but a blissful marriage of those popular forms is rare.
Comedy is tough, smart comedy even harder. But with sports, Jones explained, real fans won’t easily accept a comic book with no credentials. “Bill Maher generally is a comedian who happened to go to Cornell and be treated with the mental gravitas to do the show he does. Sports doesn’t work like that.”
He continued, “Comedians love sports, however the ideas they’ve are typically similar to everybody else’s.” With “Game Theory,” his goal is to make use of sports to say something deeper, more probing and political. “We’re attempting to make a funny show,” Jones said, “but that also has the burden and make points that advance things.”
This mental ambition distinguished the primary season, particularly in his virtuosic desk pieces that were unlike anything on television. They will remind you of the work of John Oliver, mixing long, intricate, forceful arguments with knowing jokes, and while Jones speaks gushingly about that host (whose offices are right across the hall), it’s a comparison he balks at. Jones is harder to pin down ideologically, and as he identified, unlike Oliver, he doesn’t do explainers. Jones goals to leap right into the difficulty, one his viewers already know, and make them take a look at it a latest way.
What Oliver and Jones share though is fierce intelligence and high standards on coming up with a novel perspective. “What I tell my writers is I’m at all times on the lookout for the zag,” he explained to me, before clarifying that he didn’t mean an affordable contrarian take.
This paid off at the peak of crypto mania last 12 months, when everyone from Steph Curry to Tom Brady were spokesmen for digital currency. Jones not only bluntly called it a grift, but additionally explained how crypto’s popularity within the sports world was tied to the decline in trust in institutions and the way normalized gambling on games had change into. It was an unusually assured and sophisticated take that appears prescient.
Asked for his favorite segment, Jones pointed to the very first episode, when he commemorated the retirement of Duke’s legendary coach Mike Krzyzewski with a historical deep dive into how and why Black fans hate his teams, quipping that in the event that they played the Ku Klux Klan, “we’d have rooted for a zero-zero tie.”
Jones, who went to Clark Atlanta University, a historically Black college, said that while he desired to appeal to all viewers, he paid particular attention to, as he put it, “never boxing Black people out.” If only the white writers in his room laugh at a joke, he won’t use it. But when only the Black ones do, he’ll give it some thought. “What I mean for that segment of the audience is different,” he said. “Once I walk down the road and am stopped, it’s ‘thanks for what you do.’ It’s much more essential there.”
Jones, who called this show his dream job, talks as if he’s only now getting the hang of it. He’s supremely confident in his voice, but fitting it right into a talk show is hard. That is the primary time he’s used a writing staff that features veteran joke writers together with a small news department. But he’s convinced that he’s at his best and funniest when he sounds as if he’s speaking off the highest of his head. “One thing Season 1 didn’t have enough of is just me cooking,” he said.
You hear this most clearly on his podcast, “The Right Time,” wherein he can find every kind of unexpected laughs just pondering aloud. Jones has the cadence of a natural comic even when the topic is serious. That’s why in Season 2, “Game Theory” tweaked the format of its topical segment, changing it from a script to bullet points to permit him to riff. “That’s his superpower,” said Stuart Miller, an executive producer of the series who worked on “The Each day Show” for 13 years.
On a recent morning within the writers’ room, Miller, home with Covid, stared at a table of staff members from a laptop. On the wall were cards mapping out the season. Within the premiere, Jones commemorates LeBron James’s twentieth anniversary within the N.B.A. with an argument that the player empowerment movement, which James is widely credited with leading, is a myth. A later episode will make one other zag when he makes the case that the N.F.L. is more woke than you’re thinking that.
Jones had a firm command of the room as he ran through a segment with bullet points of massive stories that week, testing out the brand new format. At one point, he reflected on a riff about how a child who got right into a fight with basketball star Ja Morant needed higher fathering, saying, “ESPN wouldn’t let me do this. Now I’m on HBO.”
In a segment on a video of Dana White, the president of the Ultimate Fighting Championship, slapping his wife, Jones adopted a skeptical voice about whether he would face any repercussions. After he finished, certainly one of the writers suggested that the White joke needed to be arrange higher and offered a tweaked phrase.
When he ran through it again, Jones didn’t take this specific advice but found a 3rd way. First, he added a latest joke. “Do you realize how insulting it’s to get caught slapping your wife and nobody is upset?” It got an enormous laugh from the writers. Then with a head of steam, he pulled the brakes. “If you wish to hurt the brand,” he said very slowly, pausing after each word, “then he would need to say something bad about incels.”
The day before, he met with a performance coach who mentioned the worth of adjusting his pace. That informed his shift, but what mattered more was just working with out a script. “A part of going to this format is that intuitively I do know when to slow up and go faster,” he said. “It’s a feel thing. Once things get written, I struggle a bit of bit more.”
Jones has two master’s degrees, including in economics, which inform his pondering (take a look at the title of his show). “He doesn’t do pure hot takes,” said Spencer Hall, a sportswriter, podcaster and former colleague. “That’s the economics training: He’ll say, ‘That is bad, but here’s an unexpected upside.’”
On the subject of his comedic sensibility, Jones said, nothing was more influential than “Chappelle’s Show,” and explained that what he admired most was how a sketch like “Black Bush” used an easy premise (what if George W. Bush were Black?) to make layered jokes. “Dave is at all times coding it on many levels,” Jones said. “The joke is landing is so many alternative ways.”
The simplicity is as essential because the complexity. “If I discover a basic idea that individuals aren’t desirous about it, that’s it,” he said. “If I would like to go an extended solution to get there, it probably won’t work.”
What makes doing political commentary about sports a balancing act is that fans watch games to flee. Jones understands this well, rigorously managing the quantity of humor in his arguments while attempting to avoid dogmatism. “I don’t understand how many interesting screeds are left,” he said, making a subtle point about how television has evolved within the last 20 years. “Consider how impactful Olbermann’s screeds were in 2006,” he said of the sports broadcaster who shifted into politics. “Do it now and it doesn’t hit the identical. You’ve got to be more sophisticated.”
That sophistication shouldn’t be mistaken for snobbery. Jones’s focus will not be on who wins or loses games, but he doesn’t look down on anyone who cares deeply about that. “The place sports exist in people’s lives is very important, and we get ourselves in trouble as high-minded commentators once we trivialize that,” he said. “Nobody would say music isn’t essential. It’s an enormous a part of the material of our lives. It matters. Sports is identical.”