Every February at Lucas Oil Stadium in Indianapolis, scouts, managers, and coaches spend a whole week putting college football players through rigorous testing, assessing their physical and mental fortitude in preparation for the NFL Draft a couple months away. This is the NFL Scouting Combine — a bizarre tradition, in many ways, but a crucial one. In a way, it’s the ideal setting for an episode of a show called American Sports Story. I’d watch a whole documentary about it.
“Birthday Money” is my favorite episode of Aaron Hernandez yet, partly because it uses the title character as a sort of audience surrogate experiencing the confusing, high-stress pre-draft process. After a disturbing flashback opening — more on that later — the episode launches right into a montage of various agents wining and dining Aaron and his brother, all insisting that he can go wherever he wants. Aaron is very susceptible to people buttering him up, but it’s obvious he needs someone who can tell it to him straight. Enter the unassuming Brian Murphy (Thomas Sadoski), who warns Aaron that his first-round talent won’t make up for certain “off-the-field concerns.”
Forget the first round — if Aaron wants to be chosen at all, he’ll need to make a great impression at the Scouting Combine. But before the episode gets to that big event, it takes time to build some mystique. Prior to facing the intense reality of the showcase, Aaron trains for four weeks with the agency in Laguna Hills, California, with D.J. along for moral support. Training entails re-watching clips of interceptions and incomplete passes from his last three years of college football, taking accountability for his errors and becoming more “coachable.” It also means sitting through long interviews and answering ridiculous questions designed to rile him up, like “Are you in a gang?” and “Do you fuck cows?”
When the actual event unfolds, it reveals a absurdity no less profound, despite the gravity with which nearly all participants regard it. One player remarks, "I know why they dub this spectacle a slave auction," as players are dressed down, prodded, and poked with a certain dehumanizing air, amidst the mingling and gaping of medical and sports professionals alike. Of course, these evaluations are not infallible predictors; numerous studies have cast doubt on the reliability of using 40-yard dash times to forecast professional success, for instance, and psychological assessments such as the Wonderlic test—which Aaron fails—do not always prove useful. Nevertheless, Aaron's score does serve as an indication of his social immaturity, and statistics suggest that players scoring below the average are twice as likely to face arrest.
With his mixed results, Aaron's fate hinges heavily on his crucial interview. Initially, he aces it, responding to questions with warmth and humor while treating his interviewers with respect. He even credits Tim Tebow with guiding him towards a new path in Christianity, which helped him turn his life around. However, Aaron stumbles when the conversation turns to his father. Merely expressing his desire to honor his dad triggers a hallucination of Dennis Hernandez, hurling insulting slurs and exclaiming, "You disgust me." This episode leaves Aaron appearing emotionally unstable, casting uncertainty over his future prospects.
Beyond the realm of football, the narrative delves into two key aspects of Aaron's character. Notably, Aaron's sexuality remains a central theme in his struggle. "Birthday Money" introduces a new love interest for him, Chris—a composite character portrayed by Jake Cannavale (son of Bobby)—who works as a physical therapist at Murphy's agency. Upon their first meeting, Chris reveals that he moved from Hartford but chose to stay in California because "people are just more chill," subtly hinting at a shared wavelength between him and Aaron.
From Chris's very first appearance, it becomes evident where this narrative is headed: a succession of erotic stretching sequences where Aaron's unmistakable arousal leaves him feeling uneasy and embarrassed. Amidst the exhibition, Chris soothes him, paying a visit to his room and initiating a tender kiss (and beyond) after Aaron opens up about the immense pressure he's under. There's a peculiarity in introducing a composite character in such a sensitive role.
However, what truly perplexes me is the episode's opening scene, a haunting flashback to D.J. narrowly avoiding witnessing his uncle Bobby molest his brother Aaron on his sixth birthday. According to the Boston Globe's reporting, the real D.J. attests to Hernandez having been molested as a child, yet the perpetrator remains unnamed to this day. Here, Ryan Farley and Chelsey Lora's script seemingly borrows the name of their late uncle, Robert Valentine, and transforms him into a pedophile, even fabricating an arrest for exposing himself on a school bus. I would welcome being proven otherwise—perhaps Ryan Murphy has access to court records beyond my reach—but this feels undeniably distasteful.
Beyond the authenticity of the scene, its inclusion in the episode feels misplaced, perilously close to portraying the assault as the genesis of Aaron's sexuality. Hernandez has indeed made a similar correlation, as per Globe reports, yet the show doesn't seem inclined to scrutinize or even depict Aaron articulating this flawed perspective on sexuality (as of yet). When his trauma resurfaces in a heated argument with D.J., Aaron's flashback and scream, accusing D.J. of failing to protect him, leaves one puzzled about the episode's intended message. We haven't witnessed Aaron vent his resentment towards his brother stemming from the molestation before. Nor does the episode delve deep into D.J.'s perspective, leaving it ambiguous whether he feels guilty, prefers denial, or covers for something he knows to be true when he tells Murphy they were never close with uncle Bobby.
While training in Laguna, Aaron and D.J. find themselves in a harmonious grove, seamlessly executing plays and rekindling their brotherly bond, a sight that fills D.J. with the heartfelt sentiment, "Dad would be proud," echoing the very words Aaron has yearned to hear. However, their brotherly dynamics soon take a turn for the worse as D.J.'s professional envy starts to simmer. He places his hopes in Murphy to secure him a spot as a practice squad quarterback, but Murphy can only muster a position on the coaching staff for a team stationed in Berlin. It's challenging not to empathize with D.J. as he highlights the disparity in career prospects between him and his brother, irony striking as his impeccable record counts for naught.
D.J.'s resentment intensifies during the draft, coinciding with a heated argument where hints of past molestation surface. His envy is unmistakable – "It should've been me" sums up his frustration – yet Aaron's lack of recognition for the leniency he's received is undeniable. Indeed, Aaron's oversight in the first three rounds and potential overall snub is disheartening. Yet, his impulse to lash out and blame D.J. and Murphy is misguided, especially when he knows his fate rests solely in his hands. Even now, skepticism lingers over Aaron's readiness for this endeavor.
As always, Aaron dodges the career-ending consequences he dreads, this time due to the Patriots' head coach Bill Belichick and owner Robert Kraft's misconception that drafting him offers unparalleled upside with minimal risk. The "Gladiator" podcast laments this decision, highlighting the peril of keeping Aaron close to his home's negative influences when a fresh start could prove most beneficial. Nevertheless, "Birthday Money" concludes on a high note, with D.J. hearing Aaron's name announced on TV and bursting into excitement, shouting the news to Terri before rushing outside to meet Aaron, who sprints over from his cousin's place. Witnessing them set aside their burdens and embrace passionately in the street, one brother genuinely elated for the other, is an uplifting sight that's contagious.
In a series that chronologically unfolds Aaron's life, phasing out characters as they diminish in relevance, the enduring brotherly bond serves as a pivotal relationship to invest in and revisit throughout all ten episodes. While facets of their relationship remain underdeveloped, the blend of resentment, love, and camaraderie renders it the most credible character dynamic in the show, making this installment its strongest despite the questions it raises.
