Steven Spielberg waved a dismissive hand toward his friend. "You must be kidding. This script is out of the 1920s. The hero's father is a football hero and his brother is an MVP player? And his name is Manning? How come not Tom Swift, for god's sake!" "Steve, you never made a sports film, have you?" "No, and not this one either. The other team has a great quarterback called Tom Brady who led his team to an undefeated season, and they lose the game to an average QB? Look, take this script to someone else!" "You owe me one, Steve." "And to top it all, the hero wins the game with just a few seconds left? You must be kidding. I'd be laughed out of Hollywood if I did this picture. Hey, nice try, but find someone else." "Gee, Steve, I thought this is what the American people need at this time." "And what is that?" "A great picture from the great Steve Spielberg, better than ET, better than...Hey. Steve, where are you going? Steve, listen to me..." That evening, Spielberg's wife asked him how the day went. He sighed and shook his head. "You wouldn't believe it, dear, I read a script that even if it happened in real life no one would believe it! Let's have dinner."
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