‘The Winning Try’ (2025) Netflix Series Review - A Spirited New Take on Redemption and Rugby

I stepped into The Winning Try thinking I’d just watch some light sports drama, but this turned out to be a clever, surprisingly layered start to a character‑driven underdog story. It opens with Ju Ga‑ram (Yoon Kye‑sang), once a rising star in Korean rugby, whose career imploded after a doping scandal. Now he’s back at Hanyang High as coach, and the place feels more like a crash site than a training ground. The team he inherited has lost 25 of 26 matches. They’re loud, chaotic, maybe feral in their dysfunction, and that mess is the show’s strongest asset from minute one.

Right away, the show doesn’t shy away from the noise. Practices feel anarchic, pep talks devolve into shouted confusion, and rugby balls fly in every wrong direction. Fans dubbed the mood “pure chaos,” and they nailed it: there’s no slow build, just full tilt messiness that somehow pulls you in. It’s not sloppy filmmaking, it’s deliberate energy. Director Jang Young‑seok, coming off Taxi Driver 2, keeps things moving fast, trading polish for kinetic urgency.

Underneath the bedlam, though, the real grounding force is the human. Ju Ga‑ram isn’t enthused or heroic at first; he’s uncertain, out of shape, still haunted by the scandal. He’s not coming in with a grand plan—he’s coming in because he’s got nowhere else to go. The actor delivers a nuanced mix of regret, stubborn care, and faint hope. His arrival also stirs up old wounds: Bae I‑ji (Im Se‑mi), his ex of ten years and now the school’s shooting coach, finds her routine disrupted when he reappears—old tension surfaces, awkward regrets hang in the air, and neither handles it gracefully.

Yoon Seong‑joon (Kim Yo‑han) stands out not just as a rugby player, but as a reflection of the show’s themes. A hardworking kid with a chip on his shoulder and a talent complex due to his twin brother’s success, he embodies the quiet drive beneath the chaos. The first episode lets him work mostly in body language: clenched jaw, tired eyes, a mix of resentment and ambition that feels more compelling than any speech.

Plotwise, episode one covers the basics: Ga‑ram reluctantly agrees to coach. The team’s horrendous record is exposed. Wounds from past mistakes are reopened. And there’s a compressed hope: maybe the National Sports Festival is catchable if they try hard enough. Yet the pacing leaves space between mess-ups and near collisions, and there are brief shifts in tone: looks shared in corridors, hesitant conversations. Moments that hint that the real drama isn’t scoreboards but personal growth.

What’s positive here? Emotion lives in the imperfections. The editing doesn’t smooth away mistakes—it highlights them. That’s refreshing. The show trusts that viewers can read faces, interpret jolts of awkward silence, and sense conflict in a sidelong glance. It’s a style choice that pays off with freshness. And performances sell that choice: Kye‑sang holds everything together when things tumble around him. Se‑mi brings quiet steel in her role as both coach and former partner. Kim Yo‑han anchors youthful frustration into something palpable.

But this first episode stumbles in spots. In its rush to establish chaos, it can feel aimless. Scenes shift without explanation. You might wonder who some background characters are or what some locker‑room chaos signifies. It's relentless for the sense. A couple of dramatic beats feel unearned because there hasn’t been time to care yet. The storytelling occasionally sacrifices clarity for kinetic energy.

Also, the humor is hit or miss. The tone flirts with comedy, but sometimes it’s jarring, like someone throws in a one‑liner mid‑fall, and the scene loses emotional weight. In a show going for grounded sports drama, some of those jokes feel forced. It doesn’t ruin anything, just bubbles in the wrong place at times.

My biggest reservation: if you expect a polished sports narrative, this won’t feel like Coach Carter or Friday Night Lights. It’s rougher, louder, less tidy. That’s by design, but it may alienate anyone craving structured progression or neat emotional arcs.

Still, those flaws aren’t deal‑breakers. They’re part of the experiment: a character‑first rugby drama that privileges atmosphere over exposition. The script by Lim Jin‑a, winner of an SBS writing contest, clearly values emotional stakes over technical sport detail. The fact that the writer interviewed actual rugby high school teams shines through: the chaos feels studied, believable, lived‑in.

Episode one doesn’t deliver a win. It delivers groundwork. You see mistakes, frustration, arguments, and doubt. You see raw ambition that’s fledgling and a coach who may not know how to lead yet. It ends without a triumphant moment—just with a hint of possibility: bluntly, “this will get harder.” That’s compelling. It doesn’t promise easy redemption, but it promises grit.

In short, on the pro side, The Winning Try delivers strong central performances, a visceral tone, and a promise of human drama rooted in second chances. On the con side, the narrative pace sometimes undercuts emotional engagement, the tonal shifts can jar, and chaos occasionally overwhelms clarity. Still, for a first episode, the confidence on display is impressive. It sets up a story that’s about more than rugby: about ties to one’s past, the challenge of leading when you’ve failed, and whether a broken star can rebuild something better.

After 60–70 minutes, I was left curious and unsettled in a good way. I want to see if Ga‑ram earns his team’s trust, if Bae I‑ji forgives the past, and if Seong‑joon can shake his inferiority to become a leader. If the show can balance raw chaos with genuine connection, it could become something memorable. The messy start might lead to an honest, grounded underdog tale worth following.

So yes, I recommend episode one, with a caveat. It’s not slick. It’s not sentimental. It’s loud, awkward, and disorganized, but in a way that feels intentional and full of promise. For viewers eager for something different, a sports‑flavored K‑drama that leans into its flaws as strengths, this is a lively beginning. I'll be back for the second half‑hour of chaos and maybe, just maybe, the first taste of redemption.

Final Score- [7/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times