Coach Taylor's got his hands full, as usual. This time it's the decision as to who to start as QB in this week's away game: Matt Saracen, who has the heart but not necessarily the skills? Or Ray "Voodoo" Tatum, the ringer from New Orleans? Against his own instincts, Taylor taps Voodoo, then boots him at halftime when he turns out to be the opposite of a team player. Risky move, but asserting his authority doesn't cost the Panthers the game, so everyone loves Taylor again. Lyla's still swapping sweat on the dark side with Riggins, while Street quietly resolves to get himself ready to play some murderball (these two developments are not causally related). Riggins makes his first appearance at Street's bedside, but only with Lyla, Taylor, and the entire team as backup. And only for about five seconds. Meanwhile, on an entirely different show, Tyra falls for some oil surveyor from out of town, who loves her and leaves her in his hotel room. And Taylor doesn't even get to properly enjoy his victory before a couple of officials show up to inform him that Voodoo's eligibility is in question. Which means not only is Voodoo's future at Dillon on the line, but the game he almost lost for the Panthers may end up as an actual loss in the books. And you just know that Buddy Garrity's going to leave the coach spinning in the wind on this.
At first I was confused about why NBC would put a show called Friday Night Lights on any night but Friday. But then I realized that on Friday nights, its core audience is, you know, at high school football games.
Lyla laces up her running shoes and pulls her hair up into a ponytail. The ponytail gets a close-up and everything, as if the show is deliberately flaunting the clear violation of FCC Rule 46B that's coming up in a minute. She bounds down the stairs, clearly hoping to get out of the house before anyone else is up. Too late; her mom catches her about to go out the door, and Lyla tries not to look too guilty as she says she's going for a run instead of right to the hospital this morning. Mom smiles encouragingly, saying it's great that Lyla's doing something for herself for a change. Because going jogging is so very self-indulgent and decadent. Lyla smiles, kisses her mom, and heads out without telling her that as long as Riggins is around, there's still one thing Lyla won't have to do for herself.
Lyla runs along the empty early-morning streets of Dillon, and shortly finds herself in front of Riggins's house. Gosh, if only this weren't such a small town. She starts to continue on her way, but she's ruefully helpless against the invisible fishing rod that reels her in by her naughty bits. Inside, eating breakfast at the kitchen counter, Riggins hears the knock on the door and grunts, "Yeah," then smiles knowingly as Lyla enters. He pulls out a barstool for her, which she perches on expectantly. He feeds her a forkful of waffles, which I assume are Eggos, because the last time I actually made waffles for just myself was, oh, never. And I'm not even a teenage alcoholic. Lyla asks if the elder Riggins brother is home. Tim says no, and they smile at each other for a polite interval before he kisses her. There must have been a lot of syrup on that waffle, because it looks like they're going to be stuck together that way for quite some time.
The Taylors all drive to school together, and for some reason they're subjecting themselves to Panther Radio. Again. I think someday there's room for an episode about how the hell the people working at that station fill a weeklong news hole just talking about something that only goes on for a few hours a week. The host and callers are bitching about how it's already Wednesday, and Taylor still hasn't decided if the starting quarterback in this week's game is going to be local boy Matt Saracen or Katrina evacuee/ringer Ray "Voodoo" Tatum. As they cruise along Panther Drive, Julie volunteers that she's taken it upon herself to research high school head coaching jobs elsewhere in the country. "I heard that a daughter is supposed to be a blessing and a comfort to her father," Taylor grumps at her. Julie complains that Texas isn't even a state, but a republic, and she'd like to live somewhere that's "part of this planet." Tami tries to defuse the tension by asking if they even have football in Seattle. "Not the same thing," Taylor says sagely. By which he of course means, "Not a religion." Is that a bad thing? Sure, in Seattle, he wouldn't get to be the high priest any more, but then he'd also have a lot fewer pushy Pharisees to deal with.
Once Taylor's in his office for the day, he calls in Voodoo, who slouches into the chair across from his desk. Taylor gets up and closes the door, and tells Voodoo, "You know I'm going to be making a decision soon about Friday." If he's expecting Voodoo to jump up and shout, "Pick me! Pick me!" he's sorely disappointed, because Voodoo just stares balefully at him through hooded eyes. Taylor says it's Voodoo's turn to talk now, and even gives him a few job-interview-isms that might fit nicely here. Instead, Voodoo just sort of wearily leans forward and rumbles, "I'm not here to make friends." Mission accomplished! "I don't like the food here, the music, the weather." That last one's gotta sting, coming from somebody who got wiped out by a hurricane. "I can definitely do without everybody going on and on about the great state of Texas." Republic, but whatever. "I'm here to get noticed, get recruited, and get my ass to LSU. And you? You're just trying to scrape by... You've seen what I can do. You want to start Saracen? You go right ahead." Then he gets up and walks out. Taylor asks him to leave the office door open, but Voodoo slams it behind him. Well, decision made, if you ask me. Let's see how Voodoo plans to "get noticed" when his disrespectful ass is parked on the bench.
Nighttime at the local diner. Out in the parking lot, Smash is giving some encouraging words to Matt Saracen. "You and me? State and Main," he proclaims. Smash is a Mamet fan? Matt clearly has no idea what this means, but the tone is unmistakable and he'll take validation where he can get it. Smash snags a couple of passing cheerleaders and tells them how awesome he and Matt are. "It's like I'm Glengarry, and he's Glen Ross," Matt wisely refrains from adding. The girls ask Matt if he's starting on Friday, and Matt stutter-smiles that he might be. How much do you suppose Matt's paying Voodoo to act like such an asshole?
Meanwhile, at Applebee's, Taylor's doodling play diagrams on some napkins when Tami rejoins him at the table and stuffs them down the front of her shirt. "We're having dinner," she says. "You can forage for them later." Coach doesn't look nearly as cheered by the prospect as you might think. If she's looking for that kind of attention, maybe when the time comes she should just do away with the napkins altogether, give him a handful of Cheerios and Apple Jacks, and let him go to town.
Across the dining room, a young blond guy named Connor with spiky hair, stubble, and a yellow tie and dress shirt (presumably over a t-shirt that reads "NOT FROM AROUND HERE") looks nonplussed when Tyra appears with his dessert and a coffee refill. She explains how she replaced his elderly waitress due to a shift change, and the dude pretends to be disappointed at the upgrade. Just then a convertible full of football players drives by outside, flying a Panthers banner from the open top. Tyra explains this phenomenon to the new guy: "A bunch of overheated jocks, too dumb to know they have no future, fighting over a game that has no meaning, in a town from which there is no escape." She glares out the window angrily throughout this little outburst, and just for a moment she almost cracks up, but then decides not to. Way to commit. Connor clearly digs this feisty small-town chick. "Anyway," Tyra says, "my name is Tyra, and I'll be at your service for the six hours." Or maybe it'll just seem that long.
At morning's practice, Taylor comes out on the field to see Voodoo getting quite a workout, while Matt waits on the sidelines. Taylor comes up to the assistant coach, Bud, and asks why Saracen isn't rotating in. Bud says he thought they said they were starting Voodoo, and Taylor corrects him: "I think you said that, and I said, 'Thanks for your opinion.'" As for Matt himself, who has been quietly tuned into this conversation since it started, Taylor sends him in. And then he orders Bud to keep Matt in the rotation until he says otherwise. "Yes sir," Bud says to Taylor's departing figure. Wow, that job really does look easy. I think we saw about ten seconds of actual, on-the-field coaching. Voodoo, meanwhile, glares. Probably because the football field has no doors he can slam.
At Applebee's, Connor pulls his rental car into the product-placed Carside to Go spot, just in time to catch Tyra coming out of the restaurant in her civvies. "There is more than one restaurant in this town, you know," she says. Yes, but how many of them have waitresses whose schedule he's already memorized? He says he stopped by to give her a little gift: a CD, which he hands over, saying, "You remind me of him." Tyra looks at the cover and asks, "I remind you of an old, wrinkled black man wearing a weird hat?" Pretty much, Connor says. She thanks him, and starts to head off, but he invites her for a ride. Rather forward of him, really. He explains that he works for an investment bank, and he's here to check out the oil fields to see if they're worth reopening, and does she want to come along? Oh, okay, so he's actually inviting her on a ride in the car. I get it now. "I'm not going to sleep with you," she warns him. He gets all flustered, saying he just likes her company. Yeah, he totally expects to sleep with her. In which case he'd better move his car pronto, because I bet the Applebee's staff hates that.
After practice, Matt runs into Julie, and asks if she's coming to the game on Friday. She says she pretty much has to, what with her dad being the coach and all. She asks if Matt thinks he's going to start, and he launches into this rambling monologue, like he's being interviewed by a sports reporter. Julie calls him on it, saying, "You need to chill out. I'm not ESPN." Fair enough, but Matt's delivery was more public-access if you ask me. She smiles her goodbyes and leaves him standing there, quietly telling himself, "You're so stupid." Hey, man, some chicks dig that. Not Julie, probably, but some.
Jason's room is rather crowded as he has a physical therapy session. He's making progress, because he's now able to catch a beach ball that's tossed into his lap from a foot away. Even better, he can toss it back, using the heel of one hand and the other inner forearm. The effort is evident on his face as the ball sort of rocks awkwardly between his elbows. And gosh, how do I choose between all of the possible jokes about a young athlete trying to come back from a spinal injury that struck him down in the prime of life? They're all so very appropriate and sensitive. Fortunately, Jason bails me out by doing it himself. "Here's the play," he says to his partner, another spinal injury patient. "Go about fifteen yards, run a post pattern. I'll hit you by the water cooler." The other guy laughs, as does everyone else. Herc chimes in with an order to have Phil the PT send Jason "downtown" "in a van" "this afternoon." Well, that sounds ominous. Phil hesitates, but Herc insists: "I want to show this boy his future." And Herc wheels himself out. Once he's gone, Jason asks, with studied casualness, "What's happening this afternoon, Phil?"
Have you seen Murderball? I haven't, but I still know quad rugby when I see it. Attended by a nurse, Jason sits on the sidelines and watches the four-wheeled athletes on the court bash the shit out of each other. It's like a combination of lacrosse and a demolition derby. Jason's whole upper body twitches involuntarily at one point, either from excitement or from a random nerve firing. Probably both. His expression is neutral, but his eyes are riveted. Or maybe those got paralyzed too. See? I'm trying, here.
Lyla comes in to see Tami in the counselor's office, and Tami starts off on an inappropriate note: "It's not true what they say about cheerleaders, that you're all just a bunch of T&A and nothing between the ears." Lyla seems a bit politely thrown by this, but this is just Tami's roundabout way of congratulating Lyla on her straight-A record. Tami asks Lyla if she's thinking about colleges, and Lyla explains that she always assumed she'd go wherever Jason went. She had a whole Jason-following plan and everything, which she outlines now. At the end, Tami smiles and nods and asks what Lyla wants. There's a long pause, which Lyla finally breaks with a nervous laugh. The details on this show are so telling, but they're a bitch to recap, man. I don't envy Drunken Bee one bit. Lyla says she hasn't had much time to think about it, "with Jason's recovery and all." Tami says that maybe Lyla should start doing that. Lyla just nods and smiles pleasantly, her clenching fingers the only outward sign that her brain has just gone into catastrophic vapor-lock. Still not ready to get her arms around Plan B, this girl.
Coach Taylor finds Bud making photocopies of the playbook for Voodoo in his office, and all of a sudden hackles are up all over the place. "You got a problem with that now?" Bud demands. Taylor says he just likes to know what's going on in his office. "Like I like to know what's going on with my offense." Bud objects to the insinuation, I object to the amateurish wordplay, and Taylor objects to "[his] offensive coordinator chatting up Buddy Garrity like he's on a date." Bud gets right up in Taylor's face at that, saying it's none of his business. "You think I want your job, right?" Bud says. "Well, you're damn right I do. The way I see it, you're sitting in my chair." Bud insists that he wants to win, just like Taylor. "These are my boys too. So you pull it together. You got that?" Bud storms out of Taylor's office with his copies of the playbook. Enjoy being the boss for about five seconds there, did you, Bud?
I'm just going to tell you now that for the rest of the episode, we're going to be starting out each act with Tyra/Connor scenes. It's almost as if they realize this whole subplot is completely extraneous and they want to get these scenes out of the way as quick as possible. Or at least give you a little more time to come back from your commercial-break bathroom trips. So here we are. It looks like Connor ended up going out into the oil fields by himself, because he's out there meeting with a couple of hard-hatted, coveralled guys, using the open tailgate of a pickup as a conference table. I can't really hear them talking, but the closed captioning of Connor's speech informs us that Dillon is a relatively oil-poor county surrounded by areas with much richer deposits. It figures that 65 million years ago, even the dinosaurs didn't want to live there. Tyra apparently started feeling bad about blowing Connor off earlier, because her car pulls up and she gets out with a bag of fast-food dinner. "One Scotch, One Bourbon, One Beer" by Blind Willie Johnson is coming out of her car speakers. I hope she also feels bad about making fun of his hat, now that she knows he was blind.
Later, she's chatting up Connor to her car and sharing more of her worldview about the locals "caught up in their tiny little lives." Of course, the shot is framed so that both figures look completely wee under the gigundous Texas sky. Tyra also shares her unsolicited opinion of oil in general, which she hates. "I know it's a widely-held belief, but any particular reason?" he asks. She blames it for her father's downfall, and that of the whole town. "It's worse than crack. The big dealers come in promising the good times will last forever, and just as fast, it's gone. And all the money's gone with it." Connor confesses that oil isn't his favorite thing either, and that he even drives a hybrid back home. Tyra asks if he likes it in Los Angeles (translation: "Take me with you!"). He says he does, and that she'd do well there (translation: "Let's start practicing for your porn film auditions!"). Tyra asks how long he's going to be in town, and he thinks another week at least. And after that gaping opening she just left him, what else can he do but ask her out to dinner tomorrow night? She gives an almost convincing show of considering it, then accepts. I hope he doesn't plan to take her to Applebee's.
Jason's doing an upper-body workout alone in his room, rolling his wheelchair laboriously back and forth along the narrow lane between his and Herc's beds. He notices a photo of Herc, looking victorious in a track outfit in his more bipedal days. Herc himself comes in and compliments Jason's progress, giving a rueful chuckle when Jason asks him how long ago the picture was taken. "A while back," he non-answers. Which is good, because it looks like the prop department snapped it and had it framed that very morning when the actor playing Herc showed up for call. Jason asks Herc what his injury was, and is told, "Same as you. C7-T1. We got our fingers. We're the lucky ones around here." Jason doesn't feel so lucky right now, but Herc isn't in the mood for any more inspirational smackdowns, now that they're buddies and all. "It's all relative, QB," he says gently, and starts to head out again. So he just stopped into his room to... look at Jason? Okay. Before he goes, Jason asks Herc how long it took him to start playing quad rugby. Herc turns back and tells him it was about a year, including six months "drowning in a sea of self-pity." Jason quietly latches onto that six-month figure. Which is handy, because that should fall right around the season finale. Jason thinks about this possible new lease on life, how he can still be an athlete, how he has a future after all. Something to look forward to. Maybe things aren't so bad.
Meanwhile, his girlfriend is getting dressed after having a bunch of dirty, naughty sex with his best friend in Riggins's bedroom. Tim asks her about her school work, but she blows him off, telling him not to bother pretending to be interested. He says he's just trying to have a conversation, and then she gets all sweetly nasty on him: "What do you want to talk about, Tim? The fact that you're sleeping with your paralyzed best friend's girlfriend?" That shuts Riggins up right quick. Not that that's hard, considering that "shut up" is more or less Riggins's default state. I wonder if we'll ever find out what happened to him to cause his paralysis of the mouth, because anyone with a functional tongue would probably point out that Lyla is the one sleeping with her paralyzed boyfriend's best friend, which is probably worse. She's the one in the relationship, after all, not him. "No, I don't think we're going to be doing a lot of talking," she says. Of course not. This way, when Jason inevitably finds out, she can tell him that it was just sex. Way to think ahead. Stopping briefly at the mirror, where she doesn't seem to like what she sees quite as much as she's used to, she leaves without another word. Left alone, Riggins just hits something and flops back on his bed.
Tami knocks on the door to Taylor's office, where he's sprawled out in his chair with his shoes off, reviewing practice tapes. She asks if he's going to be home for dinner tonight, and without even bothering to turn around and look at her, he says he doesn't think so. She goes for a funny guilt trip, but Taylor's not in the mood, so she comes in and sits down to him. They ask how each other's days were. Tami's was fine, because we're not watching Thursday Afternoon Fluorescents here. As for Taylor, he complains that everyone's calling him indecisive. Tami offers to help him decide, so in a prickly (if not prickish) tone, he tells her to make the call and take it out of his hands. "Start Saracen," Tami says. He says he can't. "Start Voodoo," she says, and he snaps that he doesn't want to. "Start me," she deadpans, and that finally improves his mood. He laughs, saying he'd love to. And he says it affectionately, so I'm pretty sure he's not saying that he'd like to see her get turned into pink glue on the field. She tells him he's not going to be happy either way, so he should just decide and come home to his family already. But Taylor says he still has a problem, which is that Matt is good for the team, has come through in practice, and "I trust him, he trusts me." Voodoo, not so much. "But I believe he can win this game for us." Tami says that sounds like a decision to her.
day, game day. Connor's on his cell phone at Applebee's (the sign out front this week: "TROUNCE THE TIGERS"), chattering away to the home office. Tyra wanders up and he breaks the news that he has to get back to L.A. the morning. She manages to look not too disappointed, especially when he says he still wants to go out with her that night. She agrees, and they both go back to their respective jobs. And we can get back to the actual show.
Taylor lets Matt into his office and starts by saying he's given a great week of practice. Matt thanks him and launches into a humble interview speech, like he's talking to ESPN again. But Taylor doesn't want to hear this from Matt any more than he wanted to hear the opposite from Voodoo, so he just rips off the Band-Aid: "I'm gonna start Voodoo." Matt sits there looking crushed for a minute, as Taylor tells him to be prepared. He finally gets up and exits the office, thanking Taylor for letting him know. Taylor feels like ass. Now that's a decision I can get behind.
Pep rally montage! In the packed high school gym, the cheerleaders do a routine to a marching band version of "Rock & Roll Part II." The team enters in their white away-game jerseys. Taylor gives a little speech, promising, "The fourth quarter is ours." Voodoo glowers, while Matt sits and looks like someone ran over his dog and then fed it to him. Taylor points to Smash, who takes the floor and goes into a little marching-band-backed rap about how the Panthers are going to win. And I'm not even going to call stereotype on this one, because Smash is absolutely the worst rapper I've ever heard in my entire life. Outside, the team boards the bus and Taylor kisses Tami goodbye. The scene cuts back and forth between the controlled chaos of the pep rally and the team buses making their way through town like a presidential motorcade, complete with cheering crowds on the sidewalk and a police escort. If there's a Secret Service detail whose job it to make sure nobody takes a shot at Taylor, we don't get to meet them this episode.
The sound of the cheering spills over into the scene, where we find Jason, back in bed, gazing up at the little memory wall above him. Lyla comes in wearing her cheerleader uniform, all flirty and asking how he's feeling. She gives him a peck on the lips, and he asks what she's doing there. "You're going to be late for the game," he says. Lyla just nods and says Jason has a visitor. It's Taylor, bearing a Panthers football helmet. Jason can't take hold of it yet, but he's able to reach out one hand and sort of rake his knuckles gratefully over the curved surface. It's heartbreaking. Jason's so sweet. I'd be like, "Oh, protective gear. Thanks. Just what I needed THREE WEEKS AGO, FUCKER!" Taylor sets the helmet on Jason's lap and heads out, but stops when Jason tells him, "God bless you, Coach." "Clear eyes, full hearts," Taylor says. "Can't lose," Jason responds. That's totally this show's "Live long and prosper." After Taylor's gone, the whole team and coaching staff starts filing in, Smash first. "What up, Street?" he asks. Jason looks at the ceiling to tip the tears back in and asks with bravado, "What's up, fellas?" Smash says they're going to win tonight for Jason. One by one, everyone passes by Jason's bed, clasping his arm or shoulder with an encouraging word. Except Voodoo, who just stands by the door with a blank expression. He could have stayed in the bus if he was going to act like that. Jason laughs to see poor, nervous Matt, and tells him to play well. Matt doesn't bother burdening Jason with the news that he doesn't expect to play at all tonight.
Riggins is last, and he has to steel himself in the door to make it the rest of the way to Jason's bed. Even so, his face crumples, and both boys have to take a second to pull it together. "I miss you, Street," Riggins finally says. "Where the hell you been?" Jason asks, not entirely jovially. Lyla has been standing at Jason's bedside this whole time, and her guilty expression could pass for discomfort at the friends' awkward reunion, if anyone were paying attention to her right now. Riggins just says, "Around," and that's all he can do besides hold Jason's hand and try not to blubber. Finally Jason takes pity on him and cuts him loose. As Riggins flees, Lyla comes back in for another chaste kiss. They exchange "I love you"s, and Lyla carries the helmet from Jason's lap to the table across the room where he can see it. After he's done crying, that is.
Somebody with long, blonde hair walks down an out-of-focus hallway, and because we're just coming back from commercial, the image resolves into Tyra. She's all dressed up, with her hair down and jewelry and makeup and a kicky tan dress. She knocks on a hotel-room door, and Connor looks surprised to see her. "I thought I was picking you up," he says. Yes, but with the change in Connor's travel plans, she obviously had to move up her timetable. She asks to come in, and almost immediately clamps her face onto his as a little Ted Nugent guitar starts up. Something tells me they're not going to dinner after all. I hope he had a big lunch.
The song continues into the scene, which is at the football stadium. Amid shots of the cheerleaders, lights, crowds, players, and more extras than a DeMille picture, the announcer sets the scene for us: "Voodoo madness has cast its spell on the Lone Star State. 16,000 people have gathered together to witness the debut of superstar phenom Ray 'Voodoo' Tatum." Can you really be a "superstar phenom" before your debut, though? ["I'd say he's already premiered some impressive ability in the horse's-ass department." -- Sars] "I can't remember when there was so much riding on a game this early in the season," the announcer adds, although he doesn't explain why that is. Looks like even though it's an away game, every member of the cast save Tyra and Jason is in the stadium, including Tami, Julie, and of course Buddy Garrity. We forgo the traditional kickoff shot in favor of launching right into a game montage in which our guys do a lot of colliding in midair with the home team, the maroon-clad Tigers. During one play, Riggins is flattened and Voodoo is sacked, prompting him to storm back to the bench and furiously knock over the giant Gatorade coolers. The other Panthers look on in alarm, as the announcer understates that Taylor's game plan "is not going the way he hoped." Taylor chomps his gum angrily.
With six and a half minutes left in the second quarter, the score is 7-0, Tigers. Taylor tells Smash what play they're going to run, and Smash heads out onto the field to relay the instructions to the team. "Hell, no," Voodoo sneers. Over Smash's objections, Voodoo insists, "We gonna win, we gonna play my way." Immediate cut to Buddy Garrity in the stands, cheering on Voodoo. Clever way of making us hate Buddy more, even though he doesn't know what a prick Voodoo's being right now. When the snap comes, Voodoo fades back as Riggins runs along in the clear, his hands held up, waiting for a pass that never arrives. "He's wide open! Hit him!" Taylor roars furiously at Voodoo, but the ringer decides to run the ball his own damn cocky-ass self. And you have to admit that it's a hell of a run as he pivots, shakes off a lineman, bounds over another, and makes it all the way to the end zone for the touchdown. The Panthers cheering section goes wild (including Tami, who doesn't realize her husband's just been totally undermined), and the team celebrates on the field. Taylor just seethes on the sidelines. He calls Voodoo over and bitches, "You run the plays I call, you understand? I give you that one, that's it. That one." Voodoo just tells Taylor to look at the scoreboard. "That one," Taylor repeats. Voodoo keeps pointing at the board and walks off without another word. Clearly he's learned his lesson.
With momentum and some artful editing in their favor, the Panthers keep kicking ass on the field, until there's 1:23 left in the half. On the sidelines between plays, Taylor goes over to Voodoo and is about to dictate the play to him, but Voodoo just pops his helmet on and walks away, out onto the field. Taylor's left sputtering on the sidelines, ordering Voodoo to come back, but the QB just turns and keeps backing away insolently. Which is even worse: Yes, I hear you, but I don't give a shit. "Seems like a little confusion on the sidelines," the announcer remarks. "What's he doing?" Buddy Garrity wonders from the stands. We don't know if he means Taylor or Voodoo. Tami looks concerned. Voodoo calls his own damn play as his guys get into formation. Taylor just paces the sidelines furiously, running his hand over his head going, "Ooh! Oooh!" He's sooo pissed. Voodoo goes to make his pass, but it blows up in his face as the Tigers make an interception and score a touchdown, free and clear. Oops. Way to go, Voodoo. Taylor's been waiting for an excuse to kick your arrogant ass, and you just tossed him one in a perfect spiral. "Dillon is going to go into the locker room down by a touchdown," the announcer observes. Wow, I wouldn't want to be in that locker room.
Too bad, because here we are. Taylor shoves his way through all the sweaty, pissed-off Panthers (none more sweaty or pissed-off than Taylor himself, mind you) and charges right up to Voodoo, yelling that if he pulls that again, he's off the team. Voodoo gets unwisely protective of his personal space, and that's all the excuse Taylor needs to scream at him, "You're done! Get out of my sight!" The two of them are yelling over each other as Voodoo tantrums out of there, throwing shit and bitching, "I don't need Texas!" Yeah, and if you thought it was tough getting a cab back in New Orleans, good luck to you here. In the uncomfortable silence that follows, Taylor puts the ball in Matt's hand and tells him, "Go warm it up, son."
And then we skip right to the last two minutes of the fourth quarter. On the sidelines, Taylor is reminding his shaky team that this quarter belongs to them. Sounds like a nervous-making way to win games, but what I know about football would fit in this recap. And I'm having to spread it pretty thin, too. The score is 21-14 Tigers with 1:18 left on the clock as the announcer remarks that Voodoo hasn't been seen since halftime. "Bold move by Coach Taylor. Now we'll see how it's gonna turn out." It starts with an inspirational one-on-one between Taylor and Matt on the sidelines. "You can lead this team," Taylor says. "Lead them now. Bring it home."
The Panthers take up position on the 16-yard line. Matt calls the play, takes the snap, and passes to a Panther named Dolia, who's quickly forced out of bounds on the 32-yard line. The clock stops with 49.7 seconds left. For the play, Smash is able to run the ball right another 14 yards before going out, and the Panthers get another first down. Then Smash runs left and advances the ball further yet, to the Tigers' 32-yard line. The clock stops with seven seconds left. The Panthers section is loving it, and I'm loving how this workmanlike, inexorable advance is such a thorough repudiation of Voodoo's showboating ways. Especially in the face of what must be a powerful temptation to go for a big, desperate play with so little time on the clock. The suspense stretches out as they get set up for the last play of the game. Smash takes the ball for a third time, and he heads left again. But the Tigers are onto him now, and he runs into a fierce clothesline. But wait! He's passed it off to Riggins, who runs right and, with the help of a nice block from Matt, carries the ball into the end zone. Woo! The Panther fans and cheerleaders freak out, while it's very quiet indeed on the Tigers' bench. The clock's at zero, the score's 21-20, and Dillon has a shot at an extra point. As the announcer says, "Dillon's going to be thrilled to get out of here with a tie." Or not.
Taylor calls in Matt and asks him to look at the field. "What do you see out there?" Matt turns, looks back, and says, "We got 'em right where we want them." Taylor asks what Matt thinks about going for two points, and Matt tells him, "Give it to Smash. He's been doing it all game." Taylor peers down through Matt's faceguard and sees nothing there but confidence. He asks for a play from Bud, who quickly supplies, "18 option." Whatever that means. Taylor sends Matt back out, telling him, "Git 'er done."
The announcer has his doubts about Taylor's decision to send Matt back in to go for the two-point conversion, but all he can do is call it. And then we're in slow motion as the boys get in formation. Close-up on Taylor's confident smile, and the announcer tells us, "You are looking at a man who is betting his entire career on one play." Taylor's smile falters. The man has his flaws, and clearly one of them is a susceptibility to hyperbole.
Matt tosses the ball to Smash one last time, and Smash makes a run that comes to a violent end, all but wrapped around the heads and shoulders of a couple of Tigers. He hits the ground flat on his back, still holding the ball. But it's ground on the right side of the goal line, and the ref raises both arms to signal that it's good. Dillon wins! Huzzah! I can't believe I care! I've never gotten this worked up over an actual football game in my life, and that includes the year my high school won state. When I was on the team. I'm kidding about that last part.
Taylor and Bud congratulate each other, friends again, because winning fixes everything. The stands empty as the announcers blather on, and we get one last look at the scoreboard reading 21-22 Panthers. The Tigers look pretty damn dazed. The celebration on the field continues as the head coaches shake hands, Julie comes up to talk to Matt, and Riggins sort of tips his helmet to Lyla, who acknowledges the gesture with a hidden smile. Tami comes down and hugs her husband, who exhaustedly walks off the field with her. He has barely enough energy to keep chewing his gum as they leave the on-field celebration behind, but he pulls it off.
Commercials, then Tyra. She's waking up in Connor's hotel bed, presumably having been sexed-up L.A.-style the night before. Aaand she's alone. She calls Connor's name worriedly a couple of times, and then he comes in from the hallway, all dressed up in his suit and neatly-knotted tie, although he still hasn't shaved. He smiles and offers her breakfast, holding up a sad little brown paper bag. She sits up and returns the smile as he says, "Someone should enlighten this town about room service." He opens the drapes and stands looking out with his back to her as she looks in the bag and observes, "Looks like it's just for one person." Connor says he has to catch his plane. Wow, breaking up with someone by McMuffin? Cold. He sits down to her and gives her his little speech about how she's a great girl, which she's really not in the mood for. He stops talking so as not to make it worse. But then he makes it worse anyway, saying he's "involved." As in, he's in a serious relationship with someone in L.A. Wow, and I thought he was just a sleazeball. Turns out he's actually a scumbag. Tyra shakes her head and bravely calls it a "one-time thing," lying that she has a boyfriend herself. Connor's gotta skate, in any case, and she keeps up her brave front as he walks to the door. Camera Obscura's "We Gotta Get Out of This Country" (not that I knew that -- thank you, closed captioning!) starts up as Tyra, alone again, looks bereft and empty and like she's not getting out of any country any time soon.
At Casa Taylor, Tami's in the kitchen chattering on about chocolate-covered blackberries or some such to Julie when Taylor comes in all dressed and still flushed from the night's victory. "Hey, you know what I like about me?" he says. "That you're married to someone as fantastic as me?" Tami guesses. Got it in one. He macks on her at the coffee machine, suggesting dinner, movie, and some bow-chicka-bow that evening. "Inappropriate!" Julie protests. "Eating breakfast!" Coach heads right out to some meeting or other, because he doesn't even get Saturdays off, I guess. Tami calls after him, "Tell Buddy Garrity... he can shove it."
Matt wakes up and hauls himself out of bed. He's got some nasty scrapes and bruises on his left side and elbow, presumably from that last block he threw during last night's game. He examines them, and smiles like they're badges of pride. And rightly so.
Panthers radio is chattering away, congratulating Taylor on his glorious victory as we see him at the gas station, filling up and cleaning his windows and accepting the handshakes and hugs of all who approach. When he arrives at school, he's got a gauntlet of grateful Panther fans to run on his way into the school. He thanks them all humbly, never letting it show that he knows damn well how fast all these people will turn on him if he loses six days from now.
Using the heels of his hands, Jason wheels himself down the hall of the hospital to the weight room, where he wrangles a one-pound dumbbell into his right hand and commences curls. It looked like just getting to that point was a more demanding workout than the actual reps. Herc should start moving the weights all over the hospital, and Jason will be back in shape in no time.
Taylor is in the office, pouring himself a cup of coffee, when he notices Buddy Garrity out in the locker room, talking to a couple of official-looking guys in dark suits and pointing at the coach. We can't hear what's being said, but both we and Taylor know it's not good as he slaps the carafe back into its place on the machine. From the locker-room point of view, the shot is framed so we can see through two doorways. In the one on the left, Taylor's all alone, and in the one on the right, a crowd of booster types is milling about in another room. Taylor strides out to meet Garrity and the two men, whom Garrity introduces as being from the district executive committee, whatever that is. Does everybody work on Saturdays? One of the officials tells Taylor, "Some questions have arisen regarding Ray Tatum's eligibility." Buddy stands there looking nervous, and then before anybody can say anything, he takes the asshole route and huffs, "Well, I thought we had this all squared away, Coach." Like it's Taylor's fault. "I thought we did, too," Taylor agrees, pissed but not wanting to fight in front of company. The officials inform Taylor and Garrity that there's going to be an investigation. "If he is deemed ineligible," he says, "Ray Tatum will not be playing football here any more. And you'll be stripped of last night's victory." Taylor would clearly very much like to explode, but he just grits his teeth, shakes hands with the two men, and tightly wishes them a good day. "Buddy, I'll talk to you later," he seethes, and heads back into the room full of supporters. Oblivious to what Taylor just learned, they applaud his arrival raucously. With one last threatening glare at Buddy, Taylor slams the door behind him. Aw, looks like maybe someone got a little attached to Voodoo after all.