I preferred Bojack Horseman

Netflix has a new documentary series on the world of polo. Swing and a miss

Sometimes the Netflix algorithm can be a real scamp. A show popped up on my landing screen the other day called Polo, presumably because I have watched sports documentaries before, and when trailer started auto-playing I thought I caught a glimpse of Prince Harry.

Wait, Prince Harry is in a documentary about polo?

[heads to Google}

Wait, Prince Harry made a documentary about polo? Friends, I shit you not. This is a thing that has happened. RIDE TO SURVIVE. Or, at least, I guess that was the idea.

Remember back when Harry and Meghan were rather uncomfortably separating themselves from the Royal Family, and then the Duke and Duchess who mostly wanted to be left alone were suddenly signing content deals left and right? One of those was with Netflix, for a reported $100-million, and it has been a little light on the end product. There was the Harry and Meghan documentary, inventively titled Harry and Meghan, and another one on the Invictus games. That’s an admirable cause related to wounded soldiers that Prince Redhead has long supported, so no shade thrown here. It just wasn’t what you would call a hit.

Now comes Polo, which is a series almost too incredible to believe. It seems as though Prince Harry alighted on this idea because he plays polo and he has some rich friends who also play polo. So why not make a documentary about polo?

There were two entirely foreseeable problems with this plan. The first is that the best sports documentaries are underdog stories, or are at least relatable at some level. Welcome to Wrexham and Sunderland Til I Die told stories of downtrodden football clubs and bleak towns, and the fans that hoped for joy delivered from an unlikely source. Even Full Swing, the pro golf series, showed how some of the featured players came from modest upbringings.

The people in Polo appear, instead, to be insanely rich. The fellow most often featured is a man called Louis Devaleix, who is briefly shown at some kind of med-tech firm at the start of the series but mostly seems to have devoted himself full-time to polo. He can do this because his net worth, according to the internet, is $26-billion. And he might not even be the richest guy in the cast. The show explains that polo teams of four riders each have a patron, the person who sponsors the team. In some cases the patron plays in the team himself and basically hires three world-class ringers as teammates. It’s like if Ed Rogers made himself the shortstop of the Toronto Blue Jays. (This would be amazing, actually.) It’s possible that some of the younger players come from lesser backgrounds, but it’s not like you can learn polo on the hardscrabble streets of West Palm Beach. Inherited wealth sure seems like an entry point. It is tough for the viewer to work up a rooting interest in any of these people, is the point.

The second problem with the documentary concept is that no one gives a shit about polo. I mean, obviously the people involved seem to care a considerable deal, but this is such a niche thing that even at the highest levels of the sport there is nothing in the way of wider public interest. This has the mass appeal of a documentary called Falconry. Anyway, Polo depicts the U.S. Open, which is apparently the Super Bowl of polo held every April in Florida, and in a lot of the matches the only people watching are those who have parked their trucks next to the field, like a random kids’ soccer tournament. It quickly becomes evident that the U.S. Open is basically a tournament between a bunch of fancy-pants rich dudes in Florida who own their own teams (and ranches, because you have to keep the horsies somewhere). It’s like making a documentary about the club championship at a very high-end golf course. I know it means a lot to the contestants, but the stakes are hilariously low for a five-part Netflix series.

That’s not say none of it was interesting. Among the many things I learned:

• The greatest polo player of all time is named Adolfo Cambiaso. He’s from Argentina, and plays on a team sponsored by a fertilizer magnate. He’s 49 but still elite, which I guess makes sense because the horses are doing all the running.

• The other greatest polo player of all time is Facundo Pieres, who is also from Argentina (this is a theme) and plays on a team sponsored by a different rich American. Facundo and Adolfo are friends, but also rivals. But mostly friends. If I follow all this correctly, they basically are bankrolled by their rich benefactors because they are great at polo. They may also come from old money. Regardless, a pretty sweet gig all around.

• Adolfo has a 22-year-old son, Poroto Cambiaso, who used to play alongside his dad but now leads his own team. It’s bankrolled by the same fella who sponsors his dad, I think. Details on some of this stuff are scarce because, as mentioned, no one gives a shit about polo.

• Relative to those guys, Louis Devaleix sucks. That’s not just me being jealous of his vast wealth: polo has a handicap system, from -1 up to 10. The Argentinian dudes are 10s. Louis is a 0. (Prince Harry is a 1.)

• One of the teams is sponsored by the 92-year-old former chairman of Coca-Cola. (He doesn’t play, mercifully.) The team is named: Coca Cola.

Somewhat amazingly, the Duke of Sussex doesn’t make an appearance until Episode 4, and suddenly the whole enterprise becomes a bit more clear. He is seen hanging out at the U.S. Open alongside Nacho Figueras, who has a role in the series as one of those expert types who is needed in a documentary to explain things to the viewers. He’s only ever identified as a “polo legend,” but that might just be because he’s handsome? The internet suggests he’s a 6 handicap, which does not sound legendary. But he appears to be pals with Prince Harry, and also he’s from Argentina (surprise), and so he must have played a key part in putting this thing together.

The Duke and Duchess finally arrive for some screen time in the final episode, when Prince Harry takes part in a charity match alongside one of the Cambiasos. But even there, it’s pretty fleeting, and most of the story revolves around Who Will Win the Final. I guarantee you that if you make it this far, you will not care.

With apologies for the mild spoiler, I will say that it sure as hell is not Louis Devaleix. His team gets knocked out early, he has a good cry (really), and he later takes his team to Argentina so he and the fellas can keep practising. Oh, and his wife is super pregnant at this time. But Louis quite earnestly insists on how important it is to him to keep improving at the sport. His wife, Pamela, is also an accomplished polo player, so she gets it on some level. But she also absolutely says the most honest thing in the entire series: “It’s a hobby,” she says.

It could be yours, too. All you need to be is the member of a Royal Family, or a billionaire, or be an Argentinian who is really good at it and is also a friend of a royal or a billionaire or both.

I think I will stick to golf.