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Happy Birthday to Me! Seriously, today is my birthday, and I can't imagine a better birthday present than my beloved show being back on regular television.
Things have been happening in Dillon. Tami Taylor is now the principal, there's a new hotshot freshman quarterback in Dillon vying for Saracen's spot, Smash is rehabilitating his busted knee, Tyra's college dreams are being dashed by her crappy new guidance counselor, and Julie wants an after school job. Now, am I forgetting anything? Hmmmm, anything? Oh, right, Lyla has traded Jesus in her heart for Tim Riggins in her pants!
Tami looks great in all her cute Hot for Principal fitted blazers and pencil skirts, but the job is a shitshow. There's barely any money for chalk, but Buddy Garrity is handing her personal checks to buy a Jumbotron for the football stadium and she's realizing that somehow her husband, the coach, has a new computer and air conditioning in his office while the rest of the teachers make do with sweating and abacus. It turns out that the new quarterback in town is there because his dad moved the whole family down from Dallas specifically so Coach Taylor could make his son great. Coach Taylor, it should not surprise you, does not take well to fancy Dallas talk about "greatness."
Smash, realizing his knee won't ever be the same after the injury, gives up on his football dreams, telling Coach that he needs to learn how to be Brian. Tyra tells the crappy guidance counselor to shove it, informing him that she's not going to give up on her college dreams.
And then, of course, there's the football. Not looking so good in pre-season, the Panthers bring it during their first game. Saracen and Riggins do so well that Coach decides to give the freshman phenom a few pity plays. So basically, Coach takes Saracen's heart out of his chest and stomps on it, because this new kid can throw a damn ball. Which Coach is none too pleased about, and he goes and finds Smash and sort of aggressively tells this kid -- who, it seems to me, is making a reasonable choice to give up on football -- that if Smash wants it, he won't stop until he gets him into college playing football again. Why, Smash asks. Coach tells him that it's because he "needs something good to happen" and my heart breaks because things aren't going so well for any of Coach's boys and I'm not sure if he's making it any better right now.
Check out our gallery of the best and worst plays this show has made. Come back Thursday for the full detailed recap of this episode.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!And we're back! So, I somehow remained completely innocent of what has been happening this season as the show has aired on DirecTV all fall. And it paid off. Because I did fall off the couch a few times during this episode.
We open with beautiful Texas landscape shots and Slammin' Sammy Meade's radio show mulling over Coach Taylor. A nice return to classic FNL form. People are calling in and, like always, complaining about Coach, and also filling us in on something that happened during the writer's strike that we never knew about: Smash injured his knee. Meanwhile, the Taylors are bickering, piling in the car, and on their way to school. Julie wants to take a different English class so she can leave school earlier to get to an after-school job. Tami doesn't like this plan. Coach tells Tami, "Principal Taylor, you look hot." Principal Taylor!!!
Early morning press conference at school. Reporters grill Coach on how the team imploded in the playoffs last year when Smash injured his knee. They wonder how the team will win anything this year now that Smash has graduated. Coach avers that the team is solid. Cut to jokey field montage of how jiggly the team really is. Then the reporters want to know if Tim Riggins is really focused this year. Cut to jokey montage of Tim Riggins drunk as hell in a variety of different locales, doing things like puking out the sliding glass door at the Playgirl Ranch. Reporters want to know how Riggins and Saracen are "gelling." Coach says they're like brothers; montage tells us that these two are no such thing. Final question to Coach is about the new freshman quarterback in town, J.D. McCoy. Coach informs them all that McCoy is just a freshman and that Saracen is still his guy, the boy can handle anything. Cut to Saracen muckle-mouthing about not being able to get a knot out of his shoelaces.
Matt, Landry, and Tyra walk to school; Landry and Tyra have either "broken up" (Tyra's explanation) or are "taking a break" (Landry's). Tyra has apparently gotten a really bad perm. They walk by McCoy practicing before school and Saracen gets depressed.
Pep rally. Buddy tells Coach over the roar of the crowd not to worry about "that two game rumor." Coach doubletakes. The roar dies down, Coach takes the microphone. He addresses the rapt crowd, "I just want to ask all of you one question." Perfectly timed pause. "You ready for Friday night?" Everyone goes nuts. The team walks in, and we're treated to the perfect dissonance of a crowd going wild, melancholy and weighty instrumental music over top, calling all that good cheer into question.
Thumping drums of a !!! song take us over to the field where boys practice football in slow motion and ladies all across the land get a little hot under the collar. Buddy's up in the stands talking with some guy. Mac remarks to Coach that McCoy is looking good on the field. Coach remarks that they'll "see what happens when the marbles drop," which at first I thought might be testicular humor, but I guess is more about how he'll do in a scramble. Meanwhile, Saracen takes the red shirt and just slops all over the field. Coach asks Mac who Buddy is talking to in the stands, and Mac tells him it's McCoy's dad, a big beer distributor, the "Stud of Suds." Coach's jaw is nearly wired shut in pissed-offness.
Tyra, in a meeting with the assistant principal/guidance counselor she's stuck with now that Tami is principal. She nervously tells him that she's planning on applying to UT Austin, TMU, maybe A&M. This jerk in short sleeves asks her if she really thinks that her plan is realistic. She tries to reply but he interrupts her to remind her of her low GPA. She reminds him of the progress her record show; he tells her that her freshman year 1.9 still counts. "It all counts." He tells her that state schools are a pipe dream and encourages her to think of junior colleges. She sets her jaw and asks, "Like Dillon Tech?" He tells her to not look down on Dillon Tech. "It's a realistic option."
Tami is struggling, too, over in her office, in front of the computer. Buddy waltzes in and glibly hands her a check, after waxing poetic about Jumbotrons for a bit. Tami's jaw drops when she sees all the zeros on the check. After having told him that she's working late to figure out if the school can afford chalk or soap this year -- "wish I was kiddin'" -- and telling him about the school having laid off four teachers because of budget cuts, she looks at Buddy and naively asks, "You really think we need a Jumbotron?" Buddy kicks back and tells her they're going to make a beautiful team. Oh, he has no idea.
Commercials. What's with all the document-related fear-mongering in that Uni-ball commercial, S. Epatha Merkerson?
The Landing Strip. Fully, if scantily, clothed women give men lap dances. What a wholesome strip club! Tim is talking to his brother about how Lyla is screwing with his head, not acknowledging their relationship in public. Billy tells Tim that he told him so, that Lyla Garrity is never going to take him seriously. Billy tells his little brother that he needs to find the love a good woman, you know, "like I've got with Mindy." Billy and Ole' Sis! Finally! Tim points out that the great love Billy has with Ole Sis is perhaps mitigated slightly by the fact that she is currently wearing a bra and grinding on a drunk trucker right behind them. Billy doesn't care, it's just her job. And then he talks some serious sense. He points out to Tim that Lyla went to bed with Jesus, and then woke up with Tim. Billy illustrates with hand levels: Jesus (up here); You (down there). "You are a rebound from Jesus."
At the doctor's office. The doctor gives Smash a clean bill of health. His mother giggles with joy and says that she knew he would be able to get that scholarship back. So Smash lost his scholarship to the historically-black school that he ended up choosing last year simply because it seemed like they didn't want him only for the football? And that decision coming after Smash had already lost another scholarship because of a ridiculous racist set-up? Man, life ain't easy for this kid. Smash tells his mom to cool it, that he's lost the scholarship and isn't too sure he'll be able to get it back. He asks the doctor if his knee is "back to normal" why he isn't as fast as he used to be. The doctor tells him there's no guarantee he'll regain the same speed he had before the injury. Smash takes this hard.
Landry and Tyra sit outside her house. Tyra's waste-of-space mom comes out and asks Landry if he fixed the toilet for them. He has, and her mom goes on about how smart he is (ignoring the possibility that her daughter is smart-- which she is). Landry gets momentarily distracted by all the thongs and bras hanging on the line behind him. Tyra snaps at him and he gets back to some math that he's doing. "Um, if I carry the one...." Then he tells her: to get the 3.5 GPA she wants, she'd have to get a 6.4 GPA this year. Which: impossible.
Tami helms a faculty meeting. She is wearing a fantastic white skirt suit, sweetly telling them that she is there for open dialogue and that she really aims to be there for the teachers this year. The teachers pause for one moment before going for the kill. They need textbooks, they want to laid-off teachers rehired, they need a Spanish teacher that actually speaks Spanish, et cetera. Tami stutters about making a list.
Cut to football practice. Saracen is still stinking up the scene. Coach calls Saracen and Riggins over and tells them that if they don't get their shit together he will replace them. Then he tells them to "make it work." Somehow I think the Tim Gunn reference is perhaps lost on these boys? Practice resumes; in the background an ice-cream truck playing Beethoven's "Fur Elise" pulls up. I didn't notice this at first, but you can hear Mac shout out -- in complete "takin' no shit" coach voice-- "Smoothies!" Coach is like "What?" and demands to know what the hell the truck is. Mac tells him that it's smoothies-- "you know, those tangy drinks, with the fruit and the yogurt." Coach knows what a damn smoothie is. Mac says that McCoy's dad sent them over for after practice. Coach is like "GET THAT SMOOTHIE TRUCK OFF THE FIELD!" So then Mac walks toward the smoothie truck and shouts, "Get those smoothies outta here. Let's go!" The whole thing is sort of grandly absurdist. Even more so when one of the players kicks the dirt, "Damn, I wanted a smoothie" and Coach flips his shit.
School. Tami catches Tyra leaving the building and asks where she's going. Tyra says she's cutting class. Tami scurries along behind her telling her that no she isn't, not after all the work they've done together. Tyra snarkily asks her what the work was for, "to get into Dillon Tech?" and then yells at Tami for filling her head with college dreams. Tami tells her that she never said it would be easy and Tyra swings around and wags her finger at her mentor, "You never said it would be impossible!" Tyra stomps off and no amount of motherly growling from Tami -- "No, ma'am. You get back here right now!" -- will turn her around.
Commercials. Taylor household, morning. Coach plates up some eggs for Julie who bitchily informs him that she only eats free-range eggs. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard" her dad responds. Julie then does that "Dad is clueless" Jedi mind trick thing, telling him that she needs him to sign this form for her to switch into the English class her mom doesn't want her to take. Julie is a teen mastermind. He resists at first, but then she lays it on thick about how she needs this schedule change so she can become a responsible adult and join the workforce. Which really means: she is trying to force her parents to buy her a car. Coach is confused by all this womanly talktalktalk and takes a look at the form.
Also confused by this womanly talktalktalk is Tim Riggins, who chats with Smash at the Alamo Freeze about how confused Lyla is making him. Smash asks Tim how it feels to be playing his old position. Tim tells him that he'd switch back to fullback any day; that everyone is riding him and that every day he's reminded that he's no Smash Williams, that he's still too slow and he doesn't know how he's going to get back to where he was. Smash tells him that they're in the same boat: "I've just been told I'm no Smash Williams, neither." Tim poses the obvious question, "Wait. So doctor says you can't do it. So what's the issue?" Smash looks down and says that's a good question.
At school, Tim is getting his love line read in the hallway by a girl who reveals to him that his love line indicates that he's really good in bed. She leans in close and tells him that she's heard stories, but she's, you know, never gotten to experience it herself. Which is a funny line, as if she is trying to remind him that they have not slept together, because, you know, he probably loses track a lot. Lyla swoops in and tells Joanie to beat it. Then she leans in on Tim in a slightly different way. "Why is it the minute you walk into this school you turn into a dumb jock?" She yells at him for playing into the dumb stereotype; he yells at her about how he's just a fling to her. She tells him that he scares her; he shows up drunk to school, he doesn't go to class, his relationships last twenty minutes. How is she supposed to take him seriously if he doesn't take himself seriously?
A knock at the door, Tami opens it to find Tyra standing there. Tyra jumps right into it, telling Tami that her sister and Billy Riggins just got engaged. Tami naively congratulates her, but Tyra sums it up, telling Tami there's nothing to celebrate, they're just going to have a kid, get divorced, and Mindy will spend her life going after Billy for child support. Tami: "Oh." Tyra then tells Tami that she doesn't want to end up like her sister, that she wants college for herself so badly, that she knows that the Vice Principal thinks she's a moron, and she knows Tami is super busy now, but that: "I need your help." Slight break in verisimilitude here; as if any teenager in the history of the world has ever actually asked for help when she needs it. But, obviously, super sweet, because these two ladies could rule the world if they wanted (especially once Tyra grows her damn hair back out). Tami invites Tyra in, and we get a long shot of the Taylor's front door, Tami dressed in the greatest little boxer shorts and t-shirt evening lounge wear.
Commercials. Morning, football field. Smash walks up to Coach wearing his short-sleeved white shirt, black pants, and tie that is apparently his Alamo Freeze outfit, but which is also sort of hilariously militant in a Malcolm X sort of way. That fast food establishment runs one tight ship, assalam alaikum. Coach yells at Smash for being late; Smash tells Coach that he's not doing this anymore. Smash tells Coach that football is over for him; he thanks Coach and tells him that the truth is he'll never be what he was, that he needs to start living his life as Brian, he'll never be Smash again. Coach pauses, swallows his instincts and says "Alright, Brian, it's your decision." Smash thanks Coach again and tells him that he had the best time of his life on that field. Gah. That is heartbreaking. I can't imagine if the best time in my life was in high school. That would mean that my best times involved a lot of spoken word poetry and crying.
Tyra walks in to the Vice PrinciJerk's office and hands him her application to UT. She also tells him that she'll be running for student council president. And THEN she tells him to NEVER, EVER tell her that she's not going to get into college. "See, I don't accept that fate for myself, and I'm going to do everything in my power to avoid it." Slow clap from the couch in Chicago, girl! I love this storyline, because I had a number of male total ass teachers in high school, especially in math, one in particular who, I remember, asked me if I had "really" written an editorial for the school newspaper, like he couldn't believe that I had, an incident that makes my blood boil still thinking about it now.
Coach's office. Tami walks in in yet another fantastic pencil skirt. She tells Coach that he was right on the Julie thing. Coach thanks her for her apology, and then she says she just didn't want him to be mad at her on opening night. Coach says he could never be mad at his wife, it's just that damn principal. She walks around his desk to give him a hug and then notices his sleek new computer: "Is that a new computer? Didn't y'all just get new computers?" On her way out the door she turns around once more, "How is it so cool in here? It feels like it's 68 degrees!" Coach just mumbles that that's the way he likes to keep it. Tami just sighs and walks out, starting to get how things work, financially, in that school.
Football! We're back on the field, and the Panthers have finally gotten their shit together. Saracen and Riggins are in a groove and the crowd is going crazy. Low angle short of Coach with his headphones around his neck, his hair tousled this way and that. And...what's that? I think his hair is saying something to me? Oh, oh dear! I don't know if I can even tell you what his hair just said, this being a family website and all. I'll leave it to your imagination. Back on the field, Saracen runs for a TD, then Riggins runs for another. Lyla beams in the stands. The Panthers are up 38 to 13, and Coach decides to give some other kids a chance. He sends J.D. McCoy on the field. Oh, no.
First play, J.D. takes a snap and completes a beautiful pass. Looks like the Panther's running offense might be in its last days. Shot of Saracen on the sidelines looking on, his face just slack; the camera then pulls his Grandmother into focus, in the stands just behind him, looking concerned. Second snap, and it all goes down in slow motion: J.D. throws the ball twenty, thirty, forty, I don't fucking know many, yards and it just, as Sammy Meade narrates, "sails into the receiver's hands like an angel." Everyone goes nuts for this touchdown pass (everyone, that is, except Coach, who is clearly conflicted). J.D. comes running off the field with a wide grin on his face, Sammy Meade tells us this is "Jason Street reincarnated" (er, except Jason isn't dead, just paralyzed, just nota bene to the writers), Coach begrudgingly shakes the kid's hands, and then the camera swings around to give us a long shot of the Panther sidelines, all the kids in blue jumping up and down and moving along to the right side of the screen, all of them, except Number 7. Seven just stands there, his body totally expressive so we barely even need that shot of Matt Saracen's devastated face. But we get it anyway, because this show just glories in its ability to make us weep.
Commercials. Afterparty at Buddy's car dealership. Smiles all around, Tim and Billy spike their soda with a flask, old codgers corner J.D. And Buddy's corralled the Lady Mayor and a bunch of others over by a Jumbotron mock-up, telling them all about his Jumbotron dreams. Tami comes over and asks to speak to Buddy for a minute, pulls him aside and tells him that she's really worrying about all the basic things the school needs. Buddy is like "....and?" and then rambles on about the bake sale and how they raised $3,000 last year. Tami interrupts him and tells him that she's decided to reallocate his check to academic expenses. He protests that the funds have already been earmarked. Somewhere, Sarah Palin licks her finger and puts it up to the wind. Tami tells him that the bylaws give the principal the right to redistribute funds. Then Buddy protests about the way they've always done things, and Tami just cuts him off and says "This year, it's gonna be different. I'm sorry."
Across the room, Tim thanks Lyla for kicking his ass in gear, and then tells her that he's okay if she doesn't want to tell anyone about their relationship. Lyla smiles and then as Tim walks away, she calls out, walks up to him and they start making out for all the world to see. Buddy, in the background, gets the whole show. He's going to need to put that Jumbotron in his house, to keep track of what that girl is doing.
Mr. McCoy stops Coach as he walks past, and thanks him for putting J.D. in. Coach tells him that he always gives "the other boys" a chance, once they've got one in the bag, and then keeps walking. The sentiment behind Coach's smile is not lost on McCoy. I feel sorry for his son, who hopefully is going to turn out to actually be sweet, despite his crap-ass dad.
Buddy gets everyone's attention and starts rolling some "Great Moments of Panther Football" on the TV to the stage. Everyone claps and good-naturedly laughs when it opens with Buddy's high school head shot, and then continues on to show footage of all the state championship teams, and great coaches past. The camera ranges around the crowd, and you get such a perfect sense of community; these people all brought together by this shared passion, but also all so totally estranged from each other, in their own secret worlds-- Saracen looking lonely and scared, Mr. McCoy looking grasping and envious. Jason Street's picture comes up and everyone cheers, and then we got lots of footage of the 2006 State Championship team, including multiple shots of Smash Williams making a series of incredible running plays. Coach, out in the crowd, looks on, his face in familiar Man Emotional Lock Down.
Alamo Freeze. Smash is locking up for the night, as Allah has willed. Coach drives up and directs him to get in the car. Cut to a racquetball court. Smash: "You realize this is the whitest sport in history, right?" These two go at for a while, sweating and exerting and getting all elementary-school-recess-boy-argument. Smash is all over the court, planting his feet, side-to-side on his knee. Coach pauses and points his racquet at Smash, demanding that the kid look him in the eye and tell him he doesn't want to play football. Smash says it isn't an issue of whether he "wants" to play football or not, it's that he "cain't." Smash tells Coach that he lost his scholarship, he's slow, and no school wants him. Coach, at wit's end, plaintively tells Smash that he doesn't know how it works, maybe Smash has to change his game, but that they can figure it out together. Breathing hard, Coach declares that if Smash wants it, he won't stop until he gets the kid into college and playing football. Smash's face changes, he can't believe this man's advocacy; then he asks Coach why this means so much to him and Coach answers: "Because I need something good to happen." And I die a little bit. Because, GOD. Coach is so vulnerable. And he is such a good advocate for these boys, and it is a good thing to try to thaw Smash out of his post-high school deep freeze, but -- and I mean, a major "but" here -- I'm not sure Coach is right; is this really the right thing for Brian? Or is this for Coach, who is seeing all of his boys' lives lose the promise they held, and is looking for some way to get that promise back? I don't know. I'm so confused!
They play a little more, until Coach literally has to stop, bent over at the waist, panting in exhaustion. He shouts at Smash, "There is nothing wrong with your knee. But you need to want this, I can't want this for you" and then turns and walks out the tiny racquetball court door. Smash turns toward the camera, contemplates, and then whacks the loving shit out of the ball and we fade to black.
Wow. That was a really good episode.
Get nostalgic for the best and worst of FNL from seasons past with our Friday Night Lights: Best and Worst Plays gallery.