(Note: this review contains heavy spoilers for this show.)
The best moment in Netflix’s new college football docuseries, SEC: Any Given Saturday, is in the first episode, when the crew follows LSU linebacker Whit Weeks as he goes hunting with his family, in a wet, gorgeous countryside. To some viewers, the Weeks’ pastime may seem barbaric, as game explode into feathers, but the docuseries is brave enough to present it plainly, a fact and an element of their way of life. Whit Weeks’ authenticity and enthusiasm consistently make him one of the show’s most compelling personalities, but in this moment, he presents an unflinching look at a distinct, storied, and complicated culture that undergirds all the on-field action. After all, these are states with, for the most part, far less economic opportunity or cultural cache as America’s media capitals, but on the gridiron, their schools make them American champions. Netflix’s docuseries has no interest in this perspective on the Southeastern Conference of American collegiate athletics, but Weeks completes the full cultural portrait in this moment, revealing the raw, messy reality that shapes these institutions. If only the docuseries’ investigation of its games and programs were so bold.
Admittedly, the subject matter of the docuseries is already very familiar to me: I am from Texas and attended the University of Notre Dame, whose college football team played for a national championship in the 2024-25 season—the very season this show covers. I experienced the twists of the season in real time, watching SEC games in my dormitory, discussing the results with friends, and even attended a game with one of the featured programs—Texas A&M, a university which many close friends of mine attend and whose football program I am well acquainted with through their agony. I am not a member of the college football Sickos Committee, but knowing roughly what they are probably places me outside the intended casual audience of this documentary. And from a casual and devoted fan perspective, there are plenty of highlights here, even if they fail to encapsulate the true drama of the sport.
For the first six episodes, the documentary covers each team following a similar formula: the main character is the head coach, with a star player or two as the supporting cast, and we follow the team through summaries of practice into a very quick retelling of a key game in their schedule. Most episodes cover two programs at a time, alternating between their stories. The best practice footage comes from the stricter, less friendly coaches—LSU’s Brian Kelly and Texas A&M’s Mike Elko—seeing them rile up their players in practice unapologetically. These moments are real glimpses of what it takes to coach college football at an elite level, and thankfully, these coaches have the temperament to let the camera capture their discipline and intensity freely. But the most successful storyline here is Vanderbilt, the ultimate underdog that toppled the country’s number one team and had their most successful season ever in 2024, with a tough but clearly impassioned and caring coach in Clark Lee and a charming, insanely confident quarterback in Diego Pavia. They are the heart of this documentary, and any interview with Pavia is sure to bring a smile. The other most prominent team is South Carolina, which had a very successful season as a typically middling SEC team, but none of their personalities are that compelling here. It is also hard to buy the documentary’s image of Shane Beamer as a sweetheart given what actually happened in their bowl game (which is not covered here), but this docuseries generally fears making anyone unlikable, almost certainly a mandate of the schools’ involvement in the documentary.
While the practice footage can be entertaining and the glimpses into the personal lives of coaches and players create great empathy and enthusiasm for them, everything ultimately feels rushed here, chopped into highlights with an easy narrative that therefore fail to capture the rollercoaster ride of a great college football game and season. The games themselves are barely covered, a baffling decision for a documentary that is supposed to endear one to the SEC. The conference is the best not because of its personalities or even its amazing fans, but because of its caliber of play, and the time spent on random journalists offering safe summaries and explanations of programs could be better spent getting into the dramatic details of the games, rather than hopping to key points. The easily consumable tempo of the documentary is severely out of pace with the game’s, which alternates between lumbering and lightning-fast, war unfolding slowly in trenches or with blistering airstrikes. The battlefield romance of the gridiron is exchanged for bingeable bullet points, and the experience that defines college football is lost. The individual episodes would probably have to add an additional ten minutes to do the games justice, as well as reorient their footage to focus on the sidelines, but that would be far more visceral, and while it might alienate some, it would function just like Whit Weeks’ hunting trip: it would show the world what the SEC is and have the confidence to let the audience take or leave it. There is enough meat on the bone for each school’s story to fill a season of its own, and knowing the epic runtime of the games themselves, no fanbase would be in a rush.
The nadir of the documentary is its closing episode, which crams in three storylines: the disappointing conclusion of South Carolina’s season (with a nasty omission of the CFP selection debate’s complexity), the flailing end of Kentucky’s season, and Tennessee’s advancement to the playoffs and loss in the first round. South Carolina’s coverage is business as usual, though the documentary does not show the moment their team did not make the playoff, an obvious height of drama that was probably too raw for players to consent to filming. But Kentucky, a team which spoiled one playoff contender’s campaign and nearly slayed the SEC titan of Georgia at home, appears for the first time in the entire documentary, with the head coach never speaking and their coverage consisting of a touching but brief story about the friendship of two NFL hopefuls (who both got drafted) on the team. It would have been better not to include Kentucky then to treat them like this. And then, there is Tennessee, which made the playoff, got trounced, and after the season, saw their starting quarterback demand a raise then abandon the program. That quarterback, Nico Iamaleava, is the center of Tennessee’s game footage, yet never speaks to the camera—and Tennessee lacks a star player to follow. Anyone who knows Tennessee’s story can put the pieces together: Nico was the narrative for Tennessee, someone made the call to avoid the messy story, and what results is the shell of a plotline. The Tennessee portion is aimless and short, truncated. Like Kentucky, it would have been better to cut their coverage altogether than to show this farce of a documentary about them.
I did enjoy some of the practice footage and the recaps of these games, actively hoping for a different ending in many cases. There were quite a few nice clips of players’ lives as well, but hardly anything revelatory. In summation, Netflix’s docuseries is safe, promotional fluff, with plenty of feel-good moments but little of the chaos and passion that makes college football special for so many. Every team here has a story worth telling, but that narrative is not the one the schools would ever endorse. This docuseries needed a degree of independence to find the real story, and unfortunately, that was not the case. For a casual watch, this show is certainly sufficient and often fun. But to fall in love with college football, just go for the real, unadulterated game; this sugary product cannot measure up.