With his ability to play basketball and penchant for shit talk, Edwards checked some crucial boxes. Plus, says Hernangomez, “he’s got that aura.” Hernangomez shared his intel with Sandler and Zagar, who did their own homework. Edwards had, by then, already established himself as a world-class interviewee with his quick wit and good-natured bravado, which caught Sandler’s attention.
“Sandler called me one day and said, ‘Take a look at this guy, watch his press conference,’” Zagar says. Zagar liked what he saw, and was even more impressed after Edwards’s subsequent audition via Zoom. “He was just so charismatic,” Zagar says. “He just has this innate, effortless charisma.” Noëlle Gentile, Edwards’s acting coach for the movie, describes it as a “dynamic aliveness,” adding: “Some people just have this light and spark, and he’s one of those people.”
Edwards had a blast on the movie, calling it one of the best experiences of his life, but all of the adoration from the crew made him suspicious. “Every time I did a scene, everybody would be like, ‘Oh, my God, bravo.’ You know what I’m saying?” he says. “And I’m like, Man, they probably just blowing smoke. They cappin’.”
Then he saw the movie for himself.
“I was like, Damn, I can act, bro,” Edwards says. “They weren’t lyin’.”
Audiences will have to wait for his second act; Edwards says he’s done with the movie business until his basketball career is finished. In the meantime, however, he’s still dreaming up future roles. “I want to be in some comedy shit because I am funny,” he says. Or maybe something grittier: “I want the first one to be action,” he says. “I want to be John Wick!”
The Minnesota Timberwolves are, by virtually every available measure, the least successful franchise in the NBA. Their all-time winning percentage ranks last in the league. They have won just two playoff series in their history, both in 2004 (when Edwards was two years old). And since trading Kevin Garnett to Boston, where he promptly won a title in 2008, the Timberwolves have mostly languished as a bottom feeder, starved of wins and relevance.
“The fan base has not seen a lot of success over the years,” says Marc Lore, a co-owner of the Timberwolves with Rodriguez. “They’re passionate and have stuck by the team for a long time without a lot of winning to back it up.”
Edwards arrived in 2020 after the Timberwolves made him the number one overall pick in the NBA draft, providing a swagger and toughness to a team that lacked both.
“There are a lot of players in the league who appear confident, but that confidence hides an insecurity,” says Timberwolves head coach Chris Finch, who took over the job midway through Edwards’s rookie season. “That’s not the case with Anthony. He’s confident because he actually believes in his talents, because of how he’s forged his way to where he is in life through all the obstacles.”
Edwards has approached this season like a man on a mission, establishing himself as the team’s unquestioned alpha. At the behest of Finch and Timberwolves general manager Tim Connelly, he came into training camp in the best shape of his life, having cut his weight from 239 to 225 and lowered his body fat to below 5%. Along with fellow NBA All-Star Karl-Anthony Towns and defensive anchor Rudy Gobert, Edwards has provoked something in Timberwolves fans that’s been scarcely felt throughout the franchise’s 35-year history: optimism.
“He embodies where we are as an organization,” Finch says. “Unproven, still a ways to go, but a lot of hope for the future.”
Edwards has proven a lot already in his brief NBA career. Last month he became the third-youngest player in league history to tally 6,000 points. Only James and Kevin Durant reached that milestone earlier. “There are no limits to how high he can go,” Rodriguez says. “In baseball, we used to call it a five-tool player, someone who does everything really, really high. But I think he’s a six-tool player because he has all the tools and all the intangibles.”
But stats alone don’t capture what it’s like to watch Edwards play, something I did three times in the span of a month this winter. To take in a game featuring Edwards is to embrace all the unpredictability and chaos that make sports so irresistible. There’s an electricity that flickers in the crowd whenever he touches the ball.
You can feel it during his methodical pregame warm-up, as small crowds of fans gather courtside or near the tunnel, documenting his movements with their phones, baying for autographs. But Edwards is locked in during this routine, which follows the same rhythms night to night. He takes the court about an hour prior to tip-off—well after most of his teammates have retreated to the locker room—always with his hood up, and accompanied by the same Timberwolves assistant coach. From there, Edwards makes his way to specific spots on the floor, attempting several jumpers at each: the elbow, the wing, the area where Edwards makes deadly use of the backboard. At one point, Edwards ventures over to the corner and accepts passes over his shoulder as if he is a wide receiver, tip-toeing the sideline before turning around and hoisting a series of ridiculous fadeaways.