Actor-comedian Will Ferrell has perfected a commercial concoction of successful artifice steeped in the Freudian subconscious of man-child arrested development that makes the truth of his flagrant box office success far stranger than fiction. Like a mad scientist working furiously into the night, the quack-y general practitioner, Ferrell, has found a divertive elixir for tickling audiences’ funny bones.

Kicking and Screaming (2005), Talladega Nights (2006), Blades of Glory (2007), and his latest exhibition, Semi-Pro, represent a taxonomic species within a devolving sub-genre in which the former SNL’er is the undisputed king of his domain — sports comedies celebrating the most contrary adaptation to survival — mediocrity.  

Ferrell and his zany contemporaries – Mike Myers, Ben Stiller, John C. Reilly to name a few – think there’s something innately funny about 1970s American pop culture. Perhaps it was once fertile ground for hamming it up over the Me decade’s over-the-top colorful fashions and soulful music, á la TV's That '70s Show. In the now dispirited spirit of that decade’s classic rock anthems (“Freebird” and “Stairway to Heaven" come to mind), what was once harmless cultural fodder is spinning vexatious grooves through Ferrell’s own personalized format – jocks engaging in repetitious jocular playback.

It’s 1976 and basketball team owner/coach/player Jackie Moon (Farrell) is in desperate straits. His minor league ABA (American Basketball Association) Flint (Michigan) Tropics are about to dissolve. Loosely based on the actual ABA league, the insolvent association is merging its top four most popular teams into the NBA. The rest of the teams will fold. The Tropics are on the verge of bouncing into oblivion. 

Ever the anything-to-put-butts-in-the-seats promoter/salesman, Moon, in an attempt to increase fan attendance and improve the Tropics’ chances for being included in the merger, devises increasingly outrageous promotions that put true fabled ‘70s pro sports promotions – like “Ten Cent Beer Night” and “Disco Demolition Night” – to shame. Team members coordinating fistfights with opponents, players wearing eye shadow, bogus free corndog giveaways, and bear wrestling are enough for Moon’s flamboyant publicity stunts to rival those of the most recognizable real-life bizarro sports promoter – Chicago White Sox baseball owner Bill Veeck. When Moon’s desperate moves prove to be all for naught, team members are left to play only for each other and their pathetic pride (rousing speeches aspiring to fourth place).