For the uninitiated, Last Chance U is a series on Netflix that documents the East Mississippi Community College (EMCC) Lions. The show focuses on the comically dominant football juggernaut that wants to win the National Championship every year … and every year it doesn’t, the entire town of Scooba, Miss., falls apart. There’s not much else holding this place together. You should watch Last Chance U because it’s Friday Night Lights-ish, but it’s real and Julie isn’t in it.
I went to Scooba to take in a game at EMCC, which I now understand is literally the only thing to do in Scooba, Miss. That’s not hyperbole. Only one result shows up on Yelp’s restaurant search tab, and it’s a Subway, in a gas station, with a rating of one star, and precisely one review. That review leads off with, “Employees so unfriendly I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.” It ends with, “I don’t want to be completely negative. The lettuce was crisp. Skip Scooba if you can.”
This being only the second home game in the small school’s post-Netflix era, I arrived three hours before kickoff. The planner in me was expecting at least a hundred other people who also binged the series and now wanted the real-deal experience. But the campus was empty, and the student union was bare. A couple of people were browsing the bookstore, which is where I worked up the courage to inquire about Last Chance tourists.
“I guess there’s more people who visit campus”, said a bookstore employee. I ask if there’s been a boost in merchandise sales and she’s hesitant to reply. “You’d have to ask a manager.” I reframe my question to sound less serious, but the results are the same — I need to ask the manager if I want to know about any numbers. But the manager is not working today, because she is getting ready for the game. Everyone who lives here is getting ready for the game, because that’s what you do in Scooba (population 697).
A pair of students walking through the bookstore are more receptive to my questions. They tell me they are cool with the tourists and that nobody has ever been annoying. I thank them for their time, because I don’t want to be the first to break that streak. They see me take photos of this warning and we all have a good laugh.
A parking lot attendant tells me about the time he went to Mississippi Comic-Con and met Jeremy London, and when the actor found out he had just met a teacher from EMCC he “freaked out and took a picture with me.” The celebrity ripple effect is in full effect, and it’s easy to be happy for the 15 minutes of fame being divided amongst the faculty, staff, and student body here.
It’s a strange feeling being a fan of a popular show about a tiny school in a tinier town, going to see it in person, and realizing that you’re mostly alone. Is this the coolest thing I’ve ever done as a sports fan, or the lamest thing? Is this the Fenway Park of the Deep South, or just the Georgia Dome? Is this Mississippi’s Madison Square Garden or … just the Georgia Dome? My happiness to be at EMCC is being cut with a slight twinge of embarrassment.
Prior to kickoff, security is extremely chill, to the point where I can just walk up to any of the coaches and say hi. The defensive line coach who came on strong towards the end of season 2, Davern Williams, seemed surprised that anyone would want to meet him, which was sweet.
The controversial and decidedly un-chill head coach, Buddy Stephens, went out of his way to shake hands and take pictures before the game. While this was more charming than expected, Coach Buddy was in fact the hothead from your laptop screen as soon as the game started. Watching him completely lose his mind on the sidelines was extremely uncomfortable, like watching a car crash, or a fistfight, or a pair of cars crashing into a fistfight.
All of the locals that I spoke with here are not only fans of the show, but are learning how to embrace the spotlight. I ask a handful of people if they miss the show, or if they thought the success of the show changed anything. Over the course of the game I learn that the staff at EMCC misses the camera crew because they became friends with the production team, but there was a growing concern that the players were acting certain ways whenever a camera was around them. In general, there’s a sense that the denizens of Scooba are grateful for the exposure, but they won’t miss it.
There’s a couple from northern Alabama sitting in front of me, and they like the show so they drove down I-59 to take in the game. There’s a pair of teachers from West Point here to see a former student, and they love the show, too. But that’s it, as far as Netflix fan looky-loos. The stands aren’t near capacity, and there aren’t a lot of tourists around.
Anyone who consumed and enjoyed Last Chance U should probably attend a game in Scooba. It’s a strange stamp to put on your sports fan passport, and at this point the school might just be the most famous JUCO joint on the map. And despite the popularity of the show, tickets remain only $10. “Nobody ever thought to increase it” says the lady in the box office. “That’s just the way it’s always been.”
