Ah, Miami. A study in contradictions if there ever was one in American society. Home of sun, sand, beaches, poverty, violent crime, racial and ethnic tensions, insane wealth inequity, ridiculous housing prices, apathetic sports crowds, Dan LeBatard, aggressive iguanas, glamour models, and the entire mechanism of popular hispanic/latino television. Oh yes, and football.

When I heard that ESPN’s 30 for 30 series was doing a documentary on the rise of University of Miami football, I was naturally intrigued. Having spent two years of my life as a Miami resident, and having seen the program up close and heard all the stories from the people that were actually there on campus in the 80′s and 90′s, I was interested in how accurate the portrayal would be.

Then I heard that Rakontur was producing the documentary, and I knew it’d be too accurate for the parties involved. Which is what makes The U perhaps the most compelling 30 for 30 of the set.

If you’re not familiar with Rakontur, you need to immediately stop reading this and go buy Cocaine Cowboys right now. That documentary, which came out a couple of years before The U hit the little screen, really should be required viewing for anyone planning on watching the latter, for a couple of reasons. First, it’s excellent on its own — a graphic, no-holds-barred look at the rise of drug trafficking in south Florida that explains more about the prevailing culture and economic order of the place than a thousand tourist brochures and travel websites could ever dream of. Second, it really highlights the cultural stew that is only alluded to in The U, and gives the viewer a far greater sense of context for the popularity of the Miami Hurricanes football team during this era.

t’s surprising to a lot of people who watch the documentary, but Miami football hasn’t always been synonymous with greatness. The Hurricane football teams of the 30′s-70′s were a middling bunch, occasionally earning a payday against their richer, more successful brethren from the north and playing in a handful of bowl games. It wasn’t until the arrival of the irascible Howard Schnellenberger in 1979 that things really took off. Within four years, the Canes had won their first of five national titles, and were already laying the groundwork for a revolution, both on and off the field.

The film does an excellent job of weaving the on-field success stories with the countercultural elements of the squad, without spending an inordinate amount of time on either. In that sense, The U is far more successful than, say, the Fab Five documentary that aired in 2011, which too often bogged itself down with extended proclamations about the cultural significance of the participants. Those elements are certainly present in The U, but balanced with just enough nuts-and-bolts football content to satisfy interest from both camps.

It’s also enjoyable to look back on the relative “innocence” of this era, and watch the football and popular media cultures of the time try to grapple with the types of cultural alterations that Miami football represented. All of it seems so tame now — the dancing on the field, the preening, the trash talk — but for those of us who remember when Miami football was something to be hated and feared, the film is an excellent reminder of how silly all of that hatred and fear really was. I can remember my father actively rooting against Miami football in those days, and I just assumed they were another team I was supposed to dislike (along with the LA Raiders, the Dallas Cowboys, Purdue, Notre Dame…actually, pretty much everyone). Yet if I was that age again, armed with my current football sensibilities, I’d probably cheer like hell for the Hurricanes.

The interviews utilized throughout are wonderful, and do an excellent job of reminding us of some long-forgotten football names from yesteryear (Melvin Bratton, anyone?), while also giving us some fascinating insights into the personalities of folks we thought we knew, including Michael Irvin (who, truth be told, comes across exactly as expected), Jimmy Johnson, the aforementioned Schnellenberger, and Dennis Erickson.

Although one of the longer documentaries in the set (102 minutes), Billy Corben does a nice job of keeping the material from dragging. Jump cuts and montages abound, and there’s enough archival footage to keep any football fan, or 80′s fan, interested.

The negatives for this documentary are few in number. The last 10 minutes or so does drag a bit, and verges on getting overly sentimental. Furthermore, there’s a huge gap in the timeline, which matches up almost exactly with the Butch Davis years. Although time constraints may have left some material on the cutting room floor, it would have still been interesting to see a bit more about the post-probation Hurricanes, and how they bridged the gap to the Larry Coker era.

But these are small quibbles, and on the whole, The U stands as perhaps the greatest achievement of the 30 for 30 series – a time capsule which captures one of the most unique football programs in history, creating a dynasty for itself that sat almost completely outside the dominant football hegemony of the time. For anyone interested in Miami, college football in general, or simply a piece which examines the cultural impact of cutting across the grain, The U is as good of a document as you’ll find.