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Matt Saracen is getting beat up. By life and by fists. His grandmother is wandering around the neighborhood confused, he's got an ill-advised crush on the coach's daughter (who Coach Taylor unwittingly suggests that he get into the back seat of a car with in order to "get loose" for tomorrow's practice), his tough-guy teammates are after-school-special peer-pressuring him into taking a bat to the rival quarterback's Mustang, and he still can't tell his right from his left on the football field. But everything starts looking up for him in the end when, despite getting the living crap kicked out of him out back of the Alamo Freeze by aforementioned rival quarterback and company, he goes to a dance recital and then discusses Abstract Expressionism with Julie. And they say this show isn't about boys and football!
Coach Taylor is on thin ice with Tami after he invites a hundred people over for ribs without telling her, but they end up making out after attending a dance recital, too, so go figure. I don't know if I've ever heard of "dance recital" as a surefire cure for what ails the bedroom, but....does Cats count?
Jason Street is slowly being eased out of Friday Night Lights and into an inspirational documentary about extreme wheelchair sports, and Lyla is slowly being eased out of her pants by Riggs, and I'm sort of loving it. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Previously: Saracen's grandmother is batty, Tyra and Tim have a Catherine and Heathcliff moment out on the lonesome heath, Jason tells Lyla to go find another man to spoon-feed, Lyla decides to spoon-feed her tongue to Tim.
Huge keg party at which the kids are listening to far too good hip hop to be real high school students. It's the sonic equivalent of them drinking Chateau Margaux rather than Boones. But kids will be kids, fake good taste in hip hop or not, and so there's lots of "whoo!"-ing and raising of the hands in the air like they just don't care. The camera jerks this way and that to show us kids lounging, kids gossiping, kids dancing, and I'm convinced it's a party. I'm especially convinced when some chubby kid comes winging out the sliding glass door (which opens onto a disheveled, oak-cabineted kitchen) and pukes on the cement patio. This happens to be just as Julie is walking toward the house and she pulls up short all "Ew!"
Matt takes this inopportune time to mouth-breathe over towards Julie, "Hey, Julie, you finally came to one of our parties!" She brushes past him, muttering about going to find out if puke comes out of suede. He wishes her good luck. Dorkiest quarterback EVAH!
Lyla stands, lankily pressed up against a post on the patio. Tim Riggins sits out in the yard, Cheekers Pretty Peach all up his cheekbones, staring at Lyla. Lyla's "friend" over-enunciates that Tim has been staring at them all night. Lyla stutters a bit in reaction. Her "friend," or as we'll call her, "Extra #4," blows her chance at the big time by making Minka Kelly look like Meryl Streep in comparison. (Though to be fair, she has been given a line that begins, "Word on the street is...") Delusional Extra #4 thinks Riggins is TOTALLY into her. Lyla breathes a sigh of comparatively-subtly-acted relief.
Voodoo walks in the front door looking pretty tough. As-Yet-Unidentified-Latino-Boy asks Saracen if he's Googled Voodoo yet. Say "Google Voodoo" ten times fast. As we already know via Nasty Sweaty Buddy Garrity, Voodoo is majorly good, winning State last year and breaking all kinds of records. As-Yet-Unidentified-Latino-Boy (wow, these Latino names are quite a mouthful, huh?) tells Saracen to kiss his position goodbye, and then tells him to have a good time with "his girlfriend," who is Landry, sitting there being his regular, criminally-underused self.
The dance floor is popping off, Smash is charming some hussy with his hips, and everybody's having a grand ol' hormonal time when-- screeefpp!-- somebody changes the music! To another really good hip hop song! We won't stand for that! Smash disengages from his hussy and calls across the dance floor, "Hey Doo-Doo"-- tee hee hee -- "What you doing changin' my song?" Voodoo sort of slithers over toward Smash -- I LOVE how Aldis Hodge is playing him so quietly -- and tells him "Seriously, son, you gotta climb some trees. Touch somethin'." Wha? His speech is so quiet and calm and nonsensical, I'm thinking he's been hitting something that isn't Boones. He reaches out and gently taps Smash's cheek. Smash's eyes burn fire, "You ever touch me again, I will break your fingers." The party has gone silent, Voodoo just sort of chuckles to himself as he leaves Smash behind; close up on Smash's face, lit in blues and greens. The song keeps playing in the background, repetitive beats intensifying Smash's anger.
Aaand we abruptly cut from the blue/green cold reality of night and anger to the uninspiring credits of the warm rising sun and melodramatic white people. Commercials. Now, I know that the Sundance Channel is pretty much owned by NBC, but should I be worried that during FNL a commercial airs that has Mikhail Baryshnikov (dudes! I spelled his name correctly without Google!) talking about his art for the Sundance series Iconoclasts?
Quick, cacophonous nighttime scene where a pick-up truck yanks the outer door to the Panther locker room out of its jamb and a crowd of boys rush in to smash shit up and spray paint the walls. Daytime, and we hear Mayor Lady talking while we get our weekly dose of Drive-By Poverty as the camera goes jaunting through the eviscerated downtown Dillon again. We cut in to a really sweet beauty shop, where about forty old ladies are getting their hair set for the week. Aw, my Georgian grandmother used to get her hair set every Monday too. Tears! They watch on the television where Mayor Lady exposits that the big game between longtime rivals Dillon Panthers and Arnett Mead Tigers is coming up at the end of the week. The Mayor from the rival town is there to her as she makes a wager with him; whoever wins on Friday gets her prize heifer Sally. Sally also happens to be standing in the frame with Mayor Lady and Mayor Rival.
Morning at the Taylors. Tami packs her purse, and yet again rocks a low-cut v-neck top. This woman must drive those high school boys mad. She asks Coach when he's going to get home on Friday and he mutters something about a scrimmage being over when it's over, whereupon Julie storms out of the room. Coach is like "what'd I do now?" and I do love a put-upon man in a household of women, if only for its novelty for me, having grown up with all brothers. Tami exasperatedly tells her husband that Julie's dance recital is on Friday -- which he knew -- and exposits a bit that they plan them on "bye weeks" just in the slight hope that somebody will show up. Kyle Chandler's hair is all "I haven't had my coffee yet! I mixed up the dates!" and Tami says she'll calm Julie down for him.
In the Far Too Realistically Depressing Rehab Facility, Jason is being put into a wheelchair by a male nurse/physical therapist. A rough little motorcross-looking man in a wheelchair is crammed into the already tight, institutional space, giving everybody a hard time: "When you're done putting the newbie into that gay wheelchair, let me know." The P.T. reminds him, "You are talking to a gay man, Herc" to which Herc responds, "I don't mean 'gay' as in 'homosexual,' I mean 'gay' as 'retarded'." The no-nonsense P.T. (even more no-nonsense than the fabulous Bill Nunn in Regarding Henry? Well, let's not get crazy here!) shoots back, "Maybe I have a retarded son" but Herc doesn't miss a beat, "Is he gay?" Shit, that was some good dialogue. Let's also notice that throughout this snappy scene, Jason is just heartbreakingly immobile, not even able to turn his head to follow the witty ripostes. Done verbally sparring, Herc informs Bill the P.T. that the benchpress on the second floor is broken and that he needs "a walkie" to fix it. He wheels around to leave but not before snapping at Jason, "Welcome to paradise." Jason asks Bill who the hell that was, and Bill replies, "Your roommate." It's Herc, exasperating-yet-inspirational wheelchair guy!
Coach Taylor walks into the locker room in his man shorts and socks. The place is wrecked, and Kyle Chandler's hair feels this deeply. Coach Taylor looks around, with Mac at his side, and mutters, "Rivalry. Tradition." He could possibly have added "Lack of education" to his list of things that quickly turn bad when applied to directionless teens.
At the Perfectly Art-Directed House of Saracen, Grandma sits eating her cereal and fully watching Sit and Be Fit. I see that probably this is the more accurate choice than Wai Lana, but I personally prefer the latter. Matt tells his grandmother that he's heading to school "to talk to Dad." Grandma asks if he's coming home for dinner that night. Matt pauses, realizing that she's slipping into a "bad spell" but then she adds, "Make sure he's taking his vitamins" like she's suddenly clear again, remembering that her son is in Iraq. God, this show. Two of my biggest fears: being paralyzed and being just this side of dementia, having moments when you slip in and out of knowing what's going on around you. Brutal.
At school, Matt talks to his father on a shiny new Apple computer. Probably product placement, so I can't complain too much, and they did make sure to make all the computers around the brand new one look like junkers, which is what you'd expect in a town like this one. His father asks about football, praises his son for starting, and then asks about his starting in the coming week. Matt goes from being cautiously proud of himself to being hesitant and doubtful -- but never once breaks from his mouth-breathing delivery. C'mon Zach Gilford, let's expand your range for "put upon."
Back in the Far Too Realistically Depressing Rehab Facility, Bill urges Jason to eat the nasty eggs on his plate. Jason -- who truly looks pasty and sweaty like you tend to do in the hospital -- says he isn't hungry, and when Bill says he just wants him to try to use his hand, Jason frowns, "Well, I can't." Bill tries motivating Jason, telling him to stop being such a crybaby since the place is full of folks who are a lot worse off than him. In my experience (and maybe one day I'll tell you about the time my orthodontist -- which I had when I was SIX thanks to a truly effed up mouthful of teeth -- got tired of my hysterical sobbing getting in the way of them taking a cast of my mouth, and so brought me into another room in the office where a teenaged girl with cerebral palsy sat getting her teeth worked on, which now, from a distance, I truly CANNOT COMPREHEND happened because, frankly, I think the problem was that I was SIX, not that I needed to sack up and be good like the girl with cerebral palsy, and anyway that orthodontist just got thrown in jail this year because he was involved in some state government kick-back scandal...where was I? Oh, right.) I don't think pointing fingers at how bad other people have it usually helps anyone out in the end.
Jason is frustrated and depressed, and he just keeps telling Bill that he's tired and wants to lie down. Bill keeps pressing him to try, reminding him that the only way he can get better is to try. The camera pulls back and we see Lyla's arrived and is listening to the conversation from the doorway. She comes in and quietly says, "He says he's tired, let him rest," and Jason really has the world against him here, a PT scrambling to motivate him in all the wrong ways, and a girlfriend who just wants to pamper him because she feels so guilty. Bill leaves the two, and Lyla sits down, telling Jason that she knows he'll try to use his hands when he's ready, but that he has to eat. Then she takes the knife, and with a disgusting metallic clink on the institutional plate, spears a little chunk of scrambled egg, which she holds poised and quivering in front of Jason's pasty and losing-it face. He pauses before opening his mouth for it, and the fork hits his teeth with another cold clink, and the whole thing IS SO DEPRESSING I feel I need a little inspiration right about now.
And just then, Herc, The Inspirational Wheelchair Guy comes wheeling in, with his buddy, Quadruple Amputee Doesn't Let Life Slow Him Down. Herc wheels over to Jason, eying Lyla all the while, and starts dipping his fingers into Jason's eggs. Quadruple Amputee holds out his arm to Lyla who pauses until he says, "It's alright, you can shake it!" She giggles in embarrassment and then does as he suggests. I have to confess, while I'm joking around about these Rehab Facility characters and their inspirational role, I think the show is playing this admirably straight, and I have to point out that while everyone is going on about the color blind casting over at Grey's Anatomy, there's some equally awesome casting (or, really, plotting) happening over here on FNL...not color- or disability-blind, but color- and disability-aware. Lyla snaps at Herc to get out of Jason's eggs, and the two wheel back out of the room, tossing a rugby ball back and forth between them.
Back over at the high school, Julie is practicing with her dance troupe, and they are absolutely adorable. With their "walk in a circle with attitude" choreography. Matt walks by the room and peeks inside the window and watches Julie for a minute.
In the locker room, the team walks into the trashed room. Coach Taylor has his Man Sunglasses on and his twang in full effect. He's got a whole rhetorical approach, opening by telling the boys how pissed he is at the boys from Arnett Mead but then telling them that there will be no retaliation. He tells them to channel their anger into kicking Arnett Mead's ass on the field "where it counts" and then gets them psyched up for practice. As they head out, Saracen asks Riggs where Voodoo is. Riggs replies with unexplained antipathy, "I don't know, Saracen. He's probably jerking around in front of a full-length mirror right now." Tim Riggins needs some dialogue and he needs it stat. I don't think he's said anything for like three episodes. Why is he so pissed at everyone? And why does everyone keep liking him? The answer simply cannot be his skill with a brush blush, can it?
On the field. Saracen has his red shirt on and runs a decent play to begin. Voodoo saunters onto the field late. Coach Taylor walks right up to him and gets in his face, "Practice starts at four o'clock, I want you here at four o'clock." (Okay, so this is afternoon now. Between Lyla/Street/eggs and Julie/dance practice, a school day passed.) Voodoo just shoulders his way past Coach Taylor without acknowledging him. Coach Taylor gets back in his face and repeats himself, and Voodoo once again walks away from him. Tim mutters from inside his helmet, "I hate him. Hate him." Second utterance from Riggs that's a little too flat.
Practice gets underway, a song by one of the guys who used to be in Phaser plays, and Voodoo is like a finely wrought machine, though he does seem to enjoy just running the ball himself rather than passing. Voodoo is Michael Vick to Saracen's Tony Romo. Nasty Sweaty Buddy Garrity rolls across the endzone, clapping his hands when he sees Voodoo run the ball in for a score. Coach Taylor looks on in conflicted disappointment; he apparently doesn't want to see the newcomer do so well. Buddy Garrity rolls his no-neck/all-chin fat head over to Coach and drawls, "Looooked gooood, Coach" and then smarms about how Voodoo is doing something with the chance Taylor gave him. He then does this sort of two-step while sing-songing "Got my voooodooo workin'...got my voooodoooo workin'" and what the FUCK, Fat Head, is this some kind of minstrel show you're trying to put together? The camera jerks around and quick pans in on Coach Taylor's and Saracen's worried faces, as Buddy chuckles like he's mothereffing Boss Hogg.
Commercials. In the radio station, Slammin' Sammy Mead (for God's sake, I feel like I need a "AAOOGA" horn to emit every time I hear that name) patronizingly asks Voodoo how he felt when he was trapped in the Superdome. Voodoo responds that God told him to "war up, dance with fear." Uh, okay. Fat Head Boss Hogg just happens to be sitting to his prized possession, um, I mean "prized recruit," and interjects that he thought the heavens had opened up when Voodoo "landed in Dillon." While Boss Hogg nastily sweats out this utter bullshit, Voodoo casts his eyes to the side, clearly something brewing for this man who thinks he can buy and sell people like he's Simon Legree or something. Buddy continues, saying he thinks this is Dillon's "starting quarterback," prompting the interviewer to ask if he's a guaranteed start. Buddy Buck Tooth chaws through a smarmy smile to say, "Ahh, no, that's not my department, you'll have to talk to Coach Taylor about that..."
And we transition to the Taylor household, where Coach is pacing and listening to the interview. He shuts the stereo off, and Tami asks what he's pounding around about. He mutters about being worried about the Voodoo situation, that it "isn't right." Tami tells him to play Matt Saracen, but he demurs, telling her he can't because Matt "is self-destructing on the field." Julie walks in and asks if they are having some sort of party that weekend. Before she can explain, her father grabs her and hugs her, saying "C'mere monkey noodle." This whole family just makes me want to hug the world! C'mere world! Hugs for everybody! Julie says that Lois said they were having a party, and Lois never knows about anything. Tami sarcastically remarks that she is SURE they aren't having a football party as that would require "food, drink, lots of advance notice." Long story short, it's tradition that the team "and a few others" come over for dinner at the coach's house during Rivalry Week. No explanation why Coach Taylor wouldn't know about this tradition, since he would have been involved in years, seeing as how he was offensive coordinator, but whatevs. Julie looks on with a grin at her father in hot water with her mother, and her mother in hot water by virtue of the fact that she is the goddamned coach's wife.
Over at the House of Incredibly Intimate and Heartbreaking Detail, Saracen cleans up in the kitchen and asks his grandmother if she took her pills yesterday. She assures him she did, but he says he sees them sitting there on the table. She insists that he's mistaken, and when he asks if she'd mind taking her pills today in front of him, she cutely agrees, telling him to watch her face as she tosses them back with some orange juice. As Matt leaves for school, she tells him she was watching his game tape, and she knows his problem is his feet. That his feet are "slower'n molasses." She's in high spirits and trills out, "lemme see you!" and Matt gets a goofy half grin on as he does a little Flashdance in place for her. She loves it and looks up at her grandson with this wide-open joyful face as he leaves for school. See, now most shows would not bother to show you this moment, which doesn't really do anything except develop that it isn't always bad times in the Saracen house, but there is just something so delightful about this scene, about the fact that they took time to include this scene.
In the school hallway (handheld camera waay toned down from the last time we were in the hallway), Lyla grabs Tim and pulls him into an empty room. She starts right off, "I've been having these feelings. Like, flood of feelings." Profile shot of Tim saying, "Me, too." Oh lord, he's really sticking his neck out. She quickly cuts him off and urgently says, "For Jason!" and then explains that what happened the other night happened because she loves Jason. The camera pulls back and we see the two of them standing together, and they really don't look well-matched. Close back in on their profiles...Tim's hair is lank and greasy with desire and confusion. As Lyla goes on about how she doesn't feel anything for Tim, he replies with his standard, non-committal "Yeah." She continues, trying to manage him like he's a frosh cheerleader, instructing him that no one can ever know about what happened and that it will never happen again. Tim: "Yeah." She continues blabbing, "I hate myself for the other night. I just hope I don't go straight to hell."
Out on the field, Saracen gets ready for the snap when he notices Julie walking along the field. Her hair blows in the wind like Botticelli's Venus. Aimee Teagarden really is a pretty girl, and hair like that is believable on the daughter of Connie "Hot Mama" Britton. Saracen is obviously distracted, despite all these manly voices yelling "Get your head in the game, Saracen!" He takes the snap and runs the wrong way with the ball. When he corrects, he gets tackled, his helmet flying off his damn, dumb head. Voodoo laughs from behind his helmet on the sidelines. Coach Taylor walks out to give him a dressing down about knowing his right from his left. As Taylor yells at him about playing smart, Julie walks up behind her dad to tell him Mom needs to know how many people are coming to the party. Apropos of nothing, Coach Taylor pauses while talking to his daughter to yell at Now-Identified-Latino-Boy, "Hey, Reyes, get yer head outta yer ass while yer at it." Julie says, "Nice, dad, very elegant," and isn't it funny how sometimes Man Men have daughters? The boys run another play and this time, under Julie's watch, Saracen does okay. Taylor tells Julie to tell her mother "fiftyish" and then after prompting by his savvy daughter, changes it to "sixtyish." She trills out "Love ya, Daddy!" and he responds in kind, wishing her a good day. All together now, "Awww!"
In Coach Taylor's office, he dresses Saracen down a bit more, telling him that he's a mess on the field. The Three's Company laugh track starts up as Taylor leans back in his chair and says, "Now, I know what's distracting you" and Matt goes all shifty-google-eyed, "You do?" Wacky hijinks will ensue! Taylor continues on, "You forget about Voodoo. This is within your reach." Matt breaths a sigh of relief. But not for long, as Coach follows his "attack the opportunity" pep talk by asking if Matt has a girlfriend or someone he's interested in. Matt just stutters for a while until Coach tells him to take her out, to the movies, to dinner, "get her in the backseat of your car, I don't care, whatever, you need to get loose out there." Now, okay. On one hand, I am ALL for acknowledging that teenagers are sexual beings. On the other, dude, you have a daughter -- a smart one -- so it is time to sack up and be a feminist for her. Don't talk about teenaged girls like holes that need filling.
Matt Saracen has gotten some great reaction shots here, though, as his coach unwittingly tells him to basically hook up with his own daughter. He's all wide eyes and more stuttering. Saracen is always such an awkward klutz off the field and so far has rarely been all that good on the field, we're having to take a lot on faith here to buy this "coach sees something great in this kid" storyline.
Later that night, after work (he's wearing his white shirt/white pants Alamo Freeze get-up) Saracen goes home to find his grandmother not at home. He panics and goes door, where a tremendously disheveled woman answers the door and says she hasn't seen her either, but does not offer to help the kid. Real nice, lady.
At the grocery store, Julie high-spiritedly helps her mother load up frozen slabs of ribs into the shopping cart. I would kill my husband if I had to go do the shopping after a long day at work, for a party he was hosting. Connie Britton is in a scoop-neck white t-shirt, and MAN she is hot. She's totally scattered and overwhelmed; Julie's acting flighty when her mom asks about whether they got the onions, and when Tami pauses for a second with a strand of stressed-out hair falling over her eyes to just sort of plead with her nearly-grown daughter to just be helpful for once, it's just televisual perfection. Julie flomps off to get some more onions, and Tami keeps frantically loading things onto the checkout counter, the "Beep! Beep! Beep!" of bar codes being swiped in the background. A lady with a drawl and long-blond hair stops to observe to Tami all, "Rivalry Week dinner at the coach's house!" and Tami once again puts on her Lady Face, the one she uses to converse with the WomanBots in the town. They chat for a bit, and BlondeBot asks if she can bring anything. Tami's eyes widen and she stutters, "No, that's alright-- oh! Oh, are y'all comin'? Are the parents comin'?" and BlondeBot replies, "Wouldn't miss it for the world!" and then moves on. The second she's out of sight, Tami's face falls, as she exhaustedly stacks twelve-packs of soda back into the cart.
Back at the Street of It's Halfway Through the Episode And You Haven't Cried Yet, Don't Think You'll Get Out of It So Easily, Saracen walks along the road back toward his house when a police cruiser pulls up. Grandma, obviously, is in the back seat, looking confused but knowing enough to be ashamed. Matt nervously asks what happened, and the officer explains that she wandered into a neighbor's house and started taking a bath. Matt goes to her in the backseat of the car, and she starts sobbing and clings to his neck. He helps her out of the car, puts his arm around her and she begs him not to let anyone see her like this. She rests her head on his shoulder as they walk, and he wraps his hand around her sad, vulnerable head. See, Coach Taylor, this young man is in the business of getting old ladies out of back seats, not getting young ladies into them.
Tissues, uh, I mean "commercials." morning, Matt is out on the front steps on the phone. It's unclear who he's talking to, but I imagine it's a brother or uncle or something. Matt tells whoever it is on the other end of the line that "they say it's dementia." Unidentified JerkFace tells Matt to hold down the fort because he's got his hands full wherever he is. Which I think is probably Jerk Town, Jerkoslovakia. Matt, as usual, doesn't assert himself and says they'll be fine.
Depressingly Realistic Rehab Facility. Jason sits watching motocross when Herc wheels himself in the room -- getting caught up on a variety of things because the room is too small and certainly not cutting-edge when it comes to accessibility -- and explains that he won't be there for long, that he just re-injured himself and needs a tune-up. Um, is that how it works? In-patient "tune ups"? Oh well, I guess they needed Jason to get thrown together with some kind of Inspirational Wheelchair guy. Herc informs Jason that he'll be there for a long time just as Tyra walks in. Herc makes the requisite, "She's hot" comments, at which she rolls her eyes. She is damn hot though, with her full cheeks. On her face! Her full cheeks on her face!
She shyly greets Jason and then launches right into her no-nonsense speech. She tells him she isn't there to keep up appearances, she knows they've never been close, but she just wanted to come to apologize for Tim. She explains that he wants to come, but is scared. Jason has his eyes fixed on the television as she talks, and keeps them there as he asks, "Oh, he's scared." She acknowledges that Tim sucks and then they go quiet for a moment. She breaks the silence and says "Jason, I'm really sorry. Something like this shouldn't happen to a good person like you." Her sincerity affects him and he looks up at her. She comes around the side of his wheelchair and kisses him on the cheek and then walks out. Herc wants to know "Who in the hell was that?!" Jason sort of smiles to himself, "That's Tyra." Beat. "Sparky."
Out on the field, Matt has not, in fact, cleared his head. Tim notices Lyla standing at the top of the bleachers in her cheerleading outfit. They run a play, Tim makes a nice block, then looks back up toward the bleachers, but Lyla's gone. His face through his helmet is sort of inscrutable. He seems...satisfied, or something.
The Taylor house. The doorbell rings and Tami calls out, "Let's go!" as she goes to answer it. About fifty people immediately flow into the house with lots of high-pitched, "Heeeyy y'all!!" echoing throughout. Tami shuts the door after them, grabs her daughter and urgently whispers to her to go to the market and buy all the steaks, all the ribs, all the barbecue sauce. Cute.
Meatcentric party montage, lots of people out back eating and conversing. In the kitchen, Julie seasons a slab of ribs, her mom comes blowing inside and asks her to help put ice in the cooler just as Coach walks in. Without the ice he was supposed to get. Kyle Chandler's hair is totally hiding under that baseball cap, all "Who, me?" Julie wipes her fingers, "I know, I know, go buy the ice." Taylor apologizes for forgetting and then -- this is perfect-- holds up one tiny plastic shopping bag in Tami's general direction as she rushes out of the kitchen with the ribs and calls out, "Hey, I got cranberry juice and caramel apples!" Heh. Nice work, with the two totally useless but likely things a good-for-nothing man would bring home for a party.
As Julie pushes her way toward the front door, Matt tries to talk to her. Awkwardly, of course. With a little bit of stuttering. She doesn't have time for him and shuts the door behind her, pretty much in his face.
Party shots. Boss Hogg has two guys cornered by his fat head and jutting chin, talking, as usual, about Voodoo busting the season wide open. The two Winged Monkeys wonder to Buddy if Coach has decided to start Voodoo. The Wicked Witch of the Fat says he doesn't know, but that they should ask Taylor, who, as the camera pulls back, is picking up piles of paper plates with a dish rag over his shoulder. They ask, and Coach pushes through their little circle of boosterism and is clearly not taking it any longer, responding that he's decided to revolutionize the game by getting rid of the quarterback altogether. His eyes are dead serious as he talks to them, so they sort of get the idea that they need to leave him alone.
He leaves one sticky situation and gets right into another one as his wife is fully underneath a table mopping up beer. That got spilled. Under the table. Tami has barbecue sauce on her forehead, and when her husband suggests she help him host somewhere that isn't underneath a table, she starts speaking in clipped tones, "I think I might stay down here a while!" Behind them, the Oversexed Bad Haircut Real Estate Lady and BlondeBot toast to some man's "fine jaw line."
The teens are hatching their own plans, as Smash tells Reyes and Riggs that he got the address and license plate number of the Arnett Meade quarterback. They're really astonished that he got this information, which is stupid, because, duh, phone book. But Smash charmingly tells them that he's got his ways, and the boys all laugh in anticipatory glee for the shit they're gonna stir later that night.
Back under the table, Coach Taylor is now also speaking in a clipped whisper, doing that fake apology married people thing, "Well I'm sorry that you're upset" which sets Tami off on the greatest diatribe ever known to woman where she tells her husband that she is doing it, she's thrown the party, with no notice, she's cleaning up after all his football pigs, she's doing it all, but she is not going to pretend to like it when they're underneath that table, that she is going to put on a big smile when she gets back up, "but underneath here, I. Am. Pissed." Taylor just sort of sputters and repeats what he said at first, "When you're done here, I'd love it if you'd help me host." God this scene is making me so Venus/Mars. This guy talking about "hosting" doesn't know the first thing 'bout hosting, talkin' 'bout mutter mutter mutter WOMEN POWER!!!!
Matt "Worst. Timing. Ever" Saracen approaches Taylor immediately after his marital tiff to ask if he knows who he's going to start. Taylor, who is taking some shit out on a roll of Saran Wrap but is happy to start taking some shit out on Saracen instead, turns to him and tells him he'll start who he needs to start, and that Saracen needs to actually play like a starter in practice and maybe he'll get his chance.
Coach wings off and then decides to take some more shit out on his wife and so leans in towards her -- who, let it be noted, is calmly cleaning things up still -- and tells her to take a deep breath and calm down before she says something she regrets. She's ready to get fired up, though, and she launches right back into their fight, "What, like what it's really like to be the wife of the Panther's coach? Like sometimes I hate it?" Before Coach can respond, a brick comes flying through the front window. This brick is wrapped in a piece of office paper that says "Die Panther Pigs." Couldn't something have been flaming in this scene? Also...this "Rivalry Week" plot is pretty lame.
Matt seems to be walking home from the Taylors when Smash screeches up in his beat-up sedan, which contains Riggs, Reyes, and some other guy. They tell Matt to get in, and he demurs. Riggs tells Matt to get in the damn car. Matt looks this way and that and finally agrees. Riggs gets out of the front seat to let Matt into the back and as he does so goes, "Niiice!" The car peels out down the street. I like it when these kids act like stupid kids.
The boys pull up to the Arnett Meade QB's house and take bats to his fancy Mustang. So I guess Dillon is "other side of the tracks"; the Odessa to Arnett Meade's richie rich Midland. The car alarm goes off, and they've done quite a bit of damage already, and so all the boys except Matt jump back in the car. Matt keeps hauling off on the car with his bat, even as the alarm sounds, the lights in the house turn on, and the QB comes running out of the house. He gets a good look at Matt, who pauses, and then hauls off and smashes the windshield with his bat before running to catch up to Smash, who's rolling off in the sedan. Matt dives in through the front window and the car peals out again, the boys whooping and yelling. Teen violence makes good TV!
Friday. Coach Taylor waits outside his wife's office at school. She's surprised to see him, and when they go in his office he "apologizes" in the expected way, "I'm sorry that you are mad at me." Tami gets what he's doing, so she lays the sarcasm on thick and is like "I'm not-- I'm not sure that that's an apology" and so on. The two keep sparring, talking over one another, and the argument escalates into them debating who has the harder job -- Tami, who has to do more than just tell kids where to run a ball for 30 seconds, or Eric, who has the whole town on his back. It's a totally stupid fight. Which means it is exactly the kind of fight married people have. Nothing gets resolved, and as Eric leaves her office he announces to the kids in the waiting room, "Watch out, she's in a pissed off mood today." Heh.
Depressingly Realistic Rehab Facility. Herc wheels himself in after, apparently, playing rugby. He towels off a bit and snarks to Jason about having a missing girlfriend. Jason tells him to shut it, that he doesn't know anything about him. But Herc is all "Au contraire mon frere!" and starts describing what the few months and years will be like for Jason. Now is the golden "everybody rallies around you" phase, soon enough the cards and letters will stop coming, three months after that the girlfriend will decide that they're different people now, two more months after that the lawsuit will be underway and Jason will lose people he's close to "to pay for fun things like colostomy bags." By now, Herc has moved closer to Jason and is ramming his wheelchair against Jason's while he describes the likely downward spiral Jason can't yet comprehend. Jason is telling Herc more and more urgently to shut up, but Herc keeps on, saying that two months after that, Jason's parents will announce that the stress of it all had driven them apart. Jason is livid by this point, Herc has raised his voice, and finally Jason screams at him "Will you SHUT UP?" while picking up his arm and knocking his glass of water off his wheelchair tray. Hear that? He picked up his arm!
Herc, Inspirational Wheelchair Guy, leans back and looks upon his charge wisely, "All in a day's inspiration, my friend, all in a day's inspiration." Not really. But he does look intently at Jason and say "Good. I knew you had some fight in you" and then turns and leaves. Jason looks down at his hand, lifts it up a bit and is able to flex his wrist a bit.
Under the burning hot sun, the football team runs stairs on the bleachers. Coach Taylor lectures them about how he said there would be no retaliation, then lets them stop after ten laps, asking them who wants to confess about who went on the raid last night. Nobody does, and hell they shouldn't. I would've thought Coach Taylor would be a guy who understood that you don't rat your pals out, so I don't know why he's pushing so hard to get names. He makes them run ten more laps. The camera pulls back to give us a gorgeous long shot of the bleachers with the boys like tiny ants running up and down.
Later that night, Matt takes the garbage out back of the Alamo Freeze. The Arnett Meade QB -- proving that when forty-something coaches wear polo shirts, they're cute, but when 18-year-old boys do, they are evil incarnate -- demands that Matt confess who else was with him that night. Matt won't confess, going so far as to say he did it all himself, he was even driving the getaway car that he jumped into (sort of smiling inwardly at his own bravado when he says this one). He offers them each "a Swizzler" and takes the opportunity of them laughing at this suggestion to haul off and get at least one good punch in before the group of boys jump in and kick the living shit out of him.
Commercials. Coach is frantically changing into "civilian" clothes in his office when his phone rings. It's Saracen. We cut to the hospital where Coach Taylor checks him out. Saracen thanks him, and Taylor tells him not to get too excited, because they're both going to a dance recital. This kid cleaned up pretty good after that terribly brutal beat down; I was thinking broken ribs, what with the booted roid-rage the Arnett Mead boys were having all over his chest. In the car, Coach Taylor gets Saracen to confess that he was part of the "retaliation" and that he got beat up because the Arnett Mead kids wanted him to say who else was there. Coach asks him if he named names, and he says no, and that he won't name any names to him either. Taylor seems to respect that.
Like most teens, Matt likes to have his heart-to-hearts in moving vehicles, so he apologizes to Taylor for putting him on the spot about who he's starting week. He says he feels like the whole town wants Voodoo to start. Taylor tells him that he believes in him, that he sees a huge change in him even the past two weeks -- Saracen's response, "You do?" -- and that he believes you can do anything you put your mind to. Aw. Not true, but, aw. They continue zooming off to the recital.
Darkened auditorium. Tami looks surprised when she sees Coach come in with Matt, and even more surprised that Matt is so beat up. She asks Coach what happened, and he just shrugs. Tami looks at her husband meaningfully, ready to concede that she does a little more than just tell kids where to run a ball. She tells Taylor that Julie hasn't gone on yet, and the camera peeks down to show us that they're holding hands.
Julie's group comes on the stage, dressed in flouncy little skirts, tank tops, thick footless tights, and jazz shoes. Their routine is SO CUTE I can barely stand it, and this whole set is -- as usual for this show -- perfectly art directed. The sort of non-formality of the whole thing, coupled with seriousness of purpose of the young performers, the dance instructor off in the wings, counting steps under her breath. Tami and Eric go wide-eyed at the little routine, which is the tiniest bit sexy, but totally appropriate. Julie is particularly cute, serious in the mouth until the very end when the routine ends with a little clap and she breaks into a laughing grin as the audience applauds. Matt sinks into his chair with an irrepressible grin himself because he looooves heeerrrr.
Backstage, a variety of people enjoy punch. I wish I could be enjoying some punch right about now. Off to the side, Taylor is leaning in on his wife, apologizing. She cuts in, "I know. I mean, you gave me no advance warning..." and he's like "Not about that." He continues with a much more meaningful apology, telling her he knows her job is hard, that it really is hard to talk to these kids, and also that she does so much for their family and to put up with his job. Wow, this is like a model apology. Made even more awesome by the fact that at the end of it, he shakes her hand, asking "Friends?" and then starts making out with his wife with THE HOTNESS.
Over in the World of Sexual Dissatisfaction, Matt approaches Julie for the third time this episode. She finally acknowledges him, asking him what happened to his face. He brushes the question off, then tells her that "You were, that was, um..." Ah, yes, real teen speak. He continues, saying he thought the song was really cool and that it reminded him of a painter he really liked. Aw, < a href="http://www.samanthajadeonline.com">Samantha Jade reminds him of experimental painting. Julie does the "you're weird, but I kinda like it" thing and is like, "Uh, okay, which painter is it?" and Matt replies, "This guy, um, Jackson Pollack?" KILLING. ME. Julie smiles, totally falling for his weirdness, and tells him she doesn't see the connection. Matt, his face all bruised and messaged up, goofily says he guesses it is kind of a stretch. The two of them giggle at each other.
Meanwhile, Coach Taylor catches a glimpse of them in the crowd, and realizes what he's done. "Uh oh." Tami asks, "What? what?" Taylor rubs his face a bit and then confesses, "I think I told that boy to get our daughter in the back seat of a car." Everybody's somebody's daughter, pal. Julie runs over, with her little girl enthusiasm and "Mama! Daddy!" screams, and hugs her parents. Eric hugs her and tells her how proud he is while looking over her head at Matt Saracen, who seems to realize that the jig is up.
And that might be a natural place to end the episode except that it contains far too little brooding. And we know who our favorite friendly brooder is around here. Tim Riggins sits brooding in what is clearly a girl's room. Lyla walks down the hallway, into her room, and stops in her tracks when she sees him. He's in his Adonis for Hanes V-Neck t-shirt again. He gets up as she scolds him in a whisper. "What are you doing here? My father is right downstairs." (Right, your father the King of All Fat. I keep wondering how they're going to redeem Lyla when she comes from such evil stock.) Tim just moves in and says, "Lyla. I can't. Lyla. I can't," and he looks like he's about to cry. The camera pans down and she's limply holding a pile of laundry in her arms, which he reaches out and pulls out of her hands just as she goes into action, and it's make out time again. Except this time, the make out seems to make its way over to the bed. Who knew tragedy could get teens so hopped up?
Slammin' Sammy Mead (AAOOGA!) takes the episode out, voice-overing that this is the worst kind of Friday in Dillon, the kind without a game, as the camera shows us an empty football field, Taylor and Tami snuggling in bed, Jason being put in bed alone, and finally Drive By Camera-ing shot of Saracen throwing footballs through his make-shift tire target, his grandmother peeking proudly at him through the drapes. Slammin' Sammy reminds us that "Didn't Daddy tell us? Winning goes to the one who wants it most?"