How Netflix’s Last Chance U Remains One of TV’s Most Compelling Sports Docuseries
Photo Courtesy of Netflix
As any sports fan—and all the art made about them—can tell you, masterful displays of physical prowess, where the mind and body sync in competition, lend themselves well to the creation of a good story. Athletic feats, and the structures that enable them, can amaze observers. And in trying to relate this amazement to others, sometimes those observers end up making something beautiful. Netflix’s Last Chance U is one such beautiful thing.
Last Chance U is a documentary series about junior college athletic programs that benefit from being the last, best chance for players who might be talented enough to make it to the National Collegiate Athletic Association’s top division of sports (played by four-year institutions), but either didn’t have the grades coming out of high school or didn’t have their heads on straight when they were at four-year schools—that could mean academic trouble, legal trouble, or not getting along with their coaching staff.
Over the course of its run, the show has focused on a number of different locales, and later, different sports. Through the first four seasons, Last Chance covered the football programs at East Mississippi Community College (in Scooba, Mississippi) and Independence Community College (in Independence, Kansas). The last season of Last Chance U’s football installments, set at Laney College (Oakland, California), came out in July of 2020. Then earlier this year, the first season of spinoff Last Chance U: Basketball, set at East Los Angeles College (Los Angeles, California), made its debut.
When I watched the first season of the docuseries, I was struck by how artfully the cinematography chronicled practices, as well as the natural way multiple narratives unfolded through the convergence of on- and off-field tensions: athletes struggling with their play and their families; disagreements among players; the ability of coaches to scheme a playcalling system and motivate players; the problems players had motivating themselves to maintain a decent grade-point average. It was this last part that was the most jarring and the most familiar. These young men weren’t dumb, and a few of them were very academically capable, but those who failed to show book smarts revealed an obvious tension at the heart of all scholastic and collegiate athletics, a sort of conundrum that repeats itself ad infinitum: the kids play sports to get into college, but through their time in school (before college) they have mostly been trained to play sports. Not to research or to study, not to think critically about the world, not even—in the most cynical capitalistic appraisal of requirements—how to be a good employee or entrepreneur.
The athletes play sports with the hope of getting to a four-year degree-granting university because that will open doors for them. They don’t all assume they’re going to the NFL, even if a disproportionate number do assume that (and some even make it, like East Mississippi/Texas Tech University alum and Jacksonville Jaguar linebacker Dakota Allen). There is a well-founded assumption that they will have access to more resources for academic support, but they also have to get there. And the show is about how difficult “getting there” is.
Through two seasons at EMCC in Mississippi and two seasons at ICC in Kansas, a captivating piece of infotainment developed, first about the football programs at the respective junior colleges, but more interestingly about the worlds they inhabited. College sports are captivating because of the strangeness of young people risking their bodies for a chance to go to school and maybe become a professional athlete. It’s especially strange with the NCAA and its member schools generating billions of dollars in revenue from the talents of these students. But at the junior college level, things are less prosperous and less centralized. Still, at perpetual National Junior College Athletic Association championship contender EMCC and up-and-coming ICC (both undefeated teams at the time of this writing), the resources allocated to the football programs stood in contrast to the economic realities of their surrounding communities. The kids in Mississippi were outspoken about trying to get out of Scooba, while the community leader alums in Independence were outspoken about how the town’s population has shrunk and its economy has shriveled.
In Oakland and Los Angeles, the players live a different reality. Relative to rural Mississippi and small-town Kansas, urban California is in perpetual boomtimes. Yet this makes the gap between the haves and have-nots even more present. We never saw anyone sleep in their car in Scooba or Independence. We didn’t see guys working outside jobs. The players had dormitories and scholarships; not so in California, a state so populous that they have their own 108-school California Community College Athletic Association.
During Laney’s season, the gentrification of Oakland was a central theme regarding surrounding social circumstances, as the team had a relatively underwhelming season due to injuries at the quarterback position. The Laney Eagles are led by California coaching legend John Beam (also the athletic director), the only person to be recognized as state coach of the year for both high school and junior college levels, who has produced over 100 Division 1 athletes and 20 NFL players. One of those former NFL players is defensive assistant coach Derrick Gardner, whose prospering side career in real estate serves as a partial introduction to (or reminder of) the ubiquitous background theme of urban development.