Receiver on Netflix: A Players Tribuning of Athlete Content

What I don't like about the 49ers part of Receiver

Netflix has released Receiver, sequel to the Quarterback series put on by Peyton Manning’s Omaha Productions. The concept is the same as Quarterback, which followed a season in the life of Patrick Mahomes, Kirk Cousins, and Marcus Mariota. Quarterback was a success, it appears (It didn’t hurt that the season ended in a Super Bowl victory for Mahomes), though I’m not sure it really delivered on the promise of its killer trailer.

The evolving NFL series is part business story (Netflix and NFL joining forces), with potential to also be a pop culture story. Now Falcons quarterback Kirk Cousins has seen his status rise in part because millions got to know him in greater depth. Is this how NFL players can break free of Helmet Syndrome and reach the fame levels of NBA stars? Has football somehow found a new way to matter even more in the hearts and minds of Americans?

With Receiver, we’ve got an all access pass to Justin Jefferson, Davante Adams, Amon-Ra St. Brown, Deebo Samuel and his 49er tight end teammate George Kittle. Is it good? Well, the content certainly looks good. The gladiatorial spectacle of the NFL is amazing up close when elevated by high production value. I’m glad the content exists, and as a 49er watcher, enjoyed seeing more footage of a memorable season. My bet is that likable Lions receiver Amon-Ra St. Brown gets something similar to a Kirk Cousins boost on account of his rise to stardom getting chronicled. At the same time, the series is lacking, held back by a condition that’s hindering sports cultural connection more generally. I call it the Players’ Tribune problem, summarized like so:

Back in 2014, the Player’s Tribune launched as part of this broader effort for athletes to own their own stories. The publication, founded by Derek Jeter, was pitched with not a small amount of resentment for the sports writers who’d previously owned narrative production. The Player’s Tribune had some hits here and there, but never really caught on. The reason for that, I believe, was that it was too sanitized and guarded, much like Jeter himself. The athletes disliked sports writers in part because such people exposed their secrets and weaknesses. That’s an understandable gripe, but there is no closeness without vulnerability.

Like Quarterback, Receiver is OK, maybe even good, but not necessarily great. And that’s unfortunate because, given the uncommon access afforded to a subject Americans are obsessed with, greatness is within theoretical reach. The problem isn’t the production or even the characters. It’s that, likely as a condition of access, the players are presented absent many if any flaws.

The Niners offer an example of what I’m talking about, George Kittle specifically. Kittle is a famously telegenic presence. He’s self aware, funny, and doesn’t seem especially sensitive. That’s why I was surprised by the series presentation of the Niners-Packers Divisional Playoff game. The documentary shows nearly every play from the dramatic 49ers’ game winning drive, with one glaring exception. As those who watched might remember, Kittle dropped a wide open pass on second down. The Fox broadcast zoomed in on him and he looked absolutely miserable as his friend and fellow tight end Greg Olsen explained what happened to the TV audience: Kittle was so eager to turn up the field and make a big play that he overlooked securing the catch.

It’s at this moment in the game, season on the line, rain falling to complicate matters, that Kittle has accidentally turned a sure first down into a high leverage 3rd down. If the 49ers go on to lose, this will likely become the play most 49ers fans remember, with Kittle having to wear the mistake for months if not years.

Fortunately for Kittle, Brock Purdy and Brandon Aiyuk connect on the next play for a diving catch in the tightest of windows. Netflix shows you that play, along with a relieved Kittle pumping his fist and saying, “Yes!” Then you see another gainer later on, where Kittle interrupts his communication with a teammate to get open, actually catch the ball this time, and turn up field for a nice play. It’s a cool moment and we see George Kittle’s wife shout, “Good job, G! Way to come back, let’s go!”

But the viewer wasn’t even shown what Kittle was coming back from. I guess they’re maybe supposed to interpret his wife’s words as cheering the team’s comeback? Personally, I think it’s more dramatic that she just watched her specific husband’s reputation come off the hook in real time, but Receiver isn’t comfortable showing the arc of it. And that seems silly to me. Bad plays happen. It’s impressive that an athlete could have the sort of (understandable) error that Kittle did without falling apart. He makes a mistake, but then bounces back, quickly, and helps his team win. What’s wrong with showing that?

I could understand why Receiver didn’t show Kittle joking around during the Super Bowl, oblivious to a loose fumble close by. That’s embarrassing and there was no redemption to be rescued later on. At the same time, I wish it had been featured. That’s real. It shouldn’t define a great player, but it’s something he has to process and deal with. Instead, Netflix neglected to show Kittle bantering while his blocking assignment landed on the ball. They did show George explaining what happened on the play, though, as he laments how unfortunate that fumble was:

Got {the defensive end} outside the numbers. Ball bounces up behind me. I’m facing the other direction. Sometimes the ball doesn’t bounce your way.

I get why athletes are sensitive about highlighting their mistakes, on field and off. It’s easy to become a meme. Admitting to a flaw is now the same as alerting a larger audience to it. If Kittle discussed this topic honestly, it would then be aggregated as a publicized reminder of his screw up. Even worse, he might not feel he’d done anything wrong (Isn’t he always talking?). If he excuses himself, then it angers even more fans than are already mad. What if he’s legitimately pissed at those who dwell on this play? Would “fun guy” Kittle ever dare show that side? Probably not.

At the same time, by depriving us of such an element, Receiver gives us an absence of Hero’s Journey. There’s nothing to overcome but luck itself. We know that George Kittle’s season is over and that he is sad, but there’s not much to reflect on here. If we saw the full picture of a great player, warts and all, I would hope more for his redemption. Instead, he’s presented as without sin, and thus not in need of it.

This, in the end, is the issue with Players’ Tribune-style entertainment. You get big names and great access, but never enough vulnerability to truly connect. In that vein, everyone in sports wants to make a Last Dance documentary, but the results have been spotty because 1) There’s only one Michael Jordan and 2) Though Last Dance was an MJ infomercial, he’s raw enough to fall apart for us just once.

Michael hated Sam Smith for writing the Jordan Rules, because it put a sports hero’s flawed intensity on display for the masses. Jordan favored a guarded, anodyne public presentation. Smith showed the world what selfish killer this guy was. In doing so, Smith did Jordan’s mystique a massive favor. It turned out that people were drawn to cruelty within greatness. The issue with Players’ Tribune style entertainment is that the subjects can’t possibly know what we’ll end up loving. Often, it seems like they’re trying to hide the very human elements that could resonate.

As for Receiver more broadly, it’s another testament to how much documentary editing can shape perception of events. We see this with true crime dramas, where a doc can make an obviously guilty man appear innocent. The stakes are lower here, but I was amused by how much mileage Receiver gets out of Deebo Samuel’s three great games from that season. I saw every game, and was aware of Deebo’s up and down season, but felt myself slipping into a more pro Deebo stance by the end of the show. Semi related, the series seems, almost to a comical degree, designed to infuriate increasingly attention-seeking Brandon Aiyuk, the team’s actual leading wide receiver.

This offseason, Aiyuk has been a brooding public presence, and has suggested interest in a trade. He wants a lavish contract on, say, the level of new Netflix star Amon-Ra St. Brown, but the Niners are reluctant. As you can see in Receiver, the Lions specifically target Brown when their season is on the line. Aiyuk likely feels that he should be so lucky.

I understand why such actual drama can’t necessarily be rendered for televised sports series drama. Coaches don’t want negativity exposed to the public, because it will lead to recriminations and yet more internal negativity. But give us something better than “hooray we won,” or “ouch I’m hurt.” To quote philosopher and House of Strauss guest Andre Iguodala, after I asked him about then teammates Kevin Durant and Draymond Green feuding:

I think it was an old school pimp that said: 'You can't climb a mountain if it's smooth.’

I just want to see a man climb.