In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description! Finished? Click here to close.
Hey guys, here we are again, the chosen few watching the world's best television show. Take a knee and give thanks.
While we were in network exile, Dillon has gone through the process of redistricting. The redistricting looks good on paper, but is a mess on the ground. East Dillon is clearly inferior as far as resources go, and parents shout down Tami Taylor -- one of the perceived architects of the redistricting -- at a meeting. Meanwhile the Dillon High Fat Cat Athletic Department grin and smirk in the background: none of their kids or star players are getting pushed over to Red territory. Tami assures the parents that East Dillon is just as good of a school, but her daughter, ever the iconoclast, realizes this isn't true.
Part of what drives this home to Julie is an August kick-off party being thrown by one of the Panther cheerleaders. Demoralized Matt-- who is getting harsh critiques by his art teachers at Dillon Tech (ouch) and working as a pizza delivery guy-- realizes that the party's just going to be a Panther crush, but Julie thinks it'll be fun. She shows up and promptly gets hit on by a drunk J.D., whose character arc is just superb. Last season, we were given just enough to develop a little sympathy for the kid with the psychotic dad; but like so many talented rich kids, he takes whatever emotional hardship he's had in his life and twists it into a reliquary of douchebaggery. The Panthers, who we all rooted for so sincerely for three years, are now a bunch of dicks who might as well be wearing Ed Hardy. Julie realizes her place is in East Dillon, with the redistricted Landry and Siobhan Magnus-y lesbian Devin.
Tim, during a lecture on Homer in college, decides to chuck it all out the window (literally; he gets in his truck and throws his books out of the window), leave college, and return home. Tim thinks he'll just ease right on back into Billy's house and Billy's auto repair shop, but pregnant Mindy and nervous soon-to-be father Billy have different ideas. Tim's again adrift, drinking himself into a stupor, sleeping with another mom, always already a shell of his never-really-acheived former self.
And, talk about shells of former glory. The new East Dillon football team is a mess. A bunch of thugs and misfits, Coach basically drives half of the team away by insisting they show up to work, not eff around. The half he has left -- including Landry and the important newcomer Vince -- has heart but inferior bodies to the task. The episode ends with their first game of the season, and if we thought the show had run out of ways to represent heartbreaking losses, we were wrong. Losing 45-0 at halftime, his locker room full of seriously wounded kids -- a sprained ankle here, stiched up chin there, loose tooth over there -- Coach has to make the tough call to forfeit the game.
Watch the episode here, discuss it in our forums, then see FNL's Best and Worst Plays!
Want to immediately access TWoP content no matter where you are online? Download the free TWoP toolbar for your web browser. Already have a customized toolbar? Then just add our free toolbar app to get updated on our content as soon it's published.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!Ah, August. Ah, Peter Berg. Ah, Opening Montage. In the golden Texas light, Coach Taylor puts on a red cap that reads "East" while on the radio Sammy Meade declares that "this town has been divided." The Eastern Conference Champions croon in the background as we go moving through the town: Julie and Tami playing with baby Grace in the front yard; Matt getting in his car which now sports a "Panther Pizza" delivery triangle on top; Landry going to his mailbox and pulling out a letter that tells him he's be attending East Dillon high this year.
On the Panther field, Joe McCoy drives his pet football coach Wade around in a dinky little golf cart while an army of boys execute jumping jacks, the super-saturated colors of the green, green field and their blue, blue uniforms screaming "$$$." Cut over to East Dillon, where Coach walks onto a dried-out brown field with rickety bleachers that haven't been painted since 1972. Coach makes his way over to a door nearly overgrown with viney weeds and starts kicking the locked door. A custodian jogs over thinking Coach is a vandal, and they have a stilted Spanglish conversation before he lets Coach into the locker room -- which is full of knocked over lockers, graffiti and, just for good luck, one raccoon. Coach looks back at the custodian with a tight mouth, "You know there's a raccoon in here?"
The music shifts as we cut over to an African-American kid hauling ass around a corner, sirens and cops on foot in pursuit. They cut him off at the end of an alley and wrestle him to the ground. And, you guys, guess who it is? It's Wallace from The Wire! You know, Wallace with the juice boxes? And the extreme tragedy?
In the East locker room, Coach weighs kids in. A bunch of bruisers in boxer shorts, the first guy steps on with a heavy gold chain around his neck; Coach instructs him to take it off. The kid gives Coach lip. I repeat: THE KID GIVES COACH LIP. This will not end well. He declares he wants to play quarterback as the camera ranges back down the line where a kid introduces himself as Kenny to Landry. They knew each other back on JV at Dillon. Kenny declares he's going out for quarterback. Back at the head of the line, we cut from boy to boy declaring that he's going out for quarterback. Coach, looking at his clipboard while a very large kid steps on the scale, wryly notes, "Alright, we've found our quarterback, gentlemen."
On the brown field, the Bad News Bears struggle through their workout. Kids are draggin' ass all over the place, limping and side-stitched up. Coach gathers them together and shouts, "Listen up! Gathered y'all here to see what you're made of." His watch beeps. "And after 18 minutes, I think I've seen enough." OUCH. Coach tells them to go home tonight and think long and hard about whether they want this. If they realize they don't, there's no shame in that. But if they do decide they want this, they're to be on the field at six a.m. sharp.
Melancholy music plays as we cut to Coach lining his own brown field with chalk. A police cruiser pulls up and Coach makes conversation with the detective. Meanwhile, Wallace has gotten out of the car, prompting Coach to wonder what this is all about. The detective wants to know if Coach has heard of the "Cops and Jocks" program. Coach nods and exposits that it's a "second chance program." The detective tells him that Wallace is a good kid, but with a record, and the stop would be juvie, which is "not a good path." Coach wants to be assured that the kid isn't a murderer or a dog abuser (re: this last one, Coach: I knew we were soulmates). The kid comes over, introduces himself as Vince, and tells Coach that he plays football all the time. "Madden," he says. Coach says "Huh?" He says "Madden" again, Coach says "Wha?" again. The detective clarifies that he's talking about a video game. Coach wants to know if he's ever played real football, you know, with your body. He says no, but he likes to run, and most importantly, when Coach asks "You like to hit?" and then specifies, "People?" Vince is like HELL YEAH. Coach tells him to be at the field at six a.m. sharp, Vince takes a moment and then nods, "I'll be there." Yes! We roll to credits, and I am officially on board with this scrappy new team.
What we can gather about the season from the new credits: we are now all about red, not blue. Taylor Kitsch is still around. Some girl is aggressively into interpretive dance.
The Fat Cat Panther inner sanctum is busy discussing how it feels to stuff their jock straps with thousand dollar bills when Tami Taylor walks in. Buddy averts his glance, but the new coach Wade Aikman stands up and starts clapping for her. She obviously wants to tell them all to save it to for erectile dysfunction specialists, but the men continue applauding her, expositing that it's because of her that the redistricting of Dillon and East Dillon have gone so smoothly. Tami smiles and lays on the poisonous honey: "Well, I certainly do hope y'all get everything y'all deserve this year." Joe "Abusive Guy Smiley" McCoy smarms all over her as Wade tells her they asked her down because they want her to call the coin toss at Friday's game. Tami protests that that is usually Lady Mayor's job, but they insist. Joe pulls a serious face and tells her that they'd like for her to call heads. Pause. Then he busts out laughing. Oh, Joe, what a hilarious joke, poking fun of your own ability to call heads or tails on other people's livelihoods! Tami just says she'll think about it, and rolls her eyes to Tulsa and back on her way out of the door.
Nick Drake's "Cello Song" cues up as we go visit Tim Riggins in English class. His professor is lecturing on Homer, talking about "the journey" and how everyone has a journey. Tim sort of nods, and then gathers up his books and leaves. I guess this is supposed to be "inspiration" but damn, if you ever find yourself in an English class where a professor utters the words-- "Everyone is on a journey"-- you'd better get the hell out. That kind of "insight" isn't worth your student activity fee. Tim gets in his truck, then takes about $300 worth of brand new books and chucks them out of the window as he drives.
East Dillon practice. Things still aren't looking so good. The assistant coach gets a group of kids in a circle and has to practically teach them what feet are. "This is a huddle, okay? You have to understand what a huddle is." The Bad Gold Chain kid from the weigh-in tells the guy to just "pass the rock, man, this is boring as hell." The assistant coach tells him that he can have the ball when he learns how to run a play and goes back to lecturing. The kid grabs the ball out of the coach's hand, but then when he goes to toss it back playfully, whacks the middle-aged guy right in the nose. The coach doubles over, the kid apologizes pretty sincerely, but the coach runs off the field, grabbing his nose and yelling at Eric that he's done. Coach Taylor in the middle distance stands with his hand on his hip, looking back at the misfits; quick zoom in on him, the visual dictionary definition of "consternation."
Matt's in his studio class getting grilled by an instructor who wants to know whether his focus is in metal works or electronics. An odd question since she's looking at his drawings of nudes (which I can't look too closely at, lest they be from life; the life of Julie, that is.) But Matt just duhs a bit, "Uh, my focus is in art?" Love that boy. She tells him that she wouldn't call this "art." Matt wonders what the hell it is then, and she says "Drawing. Without a point of view." Matt counters by saying that the Art Institute of Chicago thought his work was art, and that's a much better school than Dillon Tech. His instructor wants to know why he's at Dillon Tech, then. Matt is totally in the right here, because, damn, lady. "Electronics?" Is that what they called it in 1984? I think it'd probably be called New Media or something now. And everyone KNOWS that drawing is totally the new conceptual art!
At the Playgirl Ranch, Tim is shoving food in his face while Mindy leans back in her chair, real fake pregnant wondering what his "plan" is. You know, for life? Tim just says "Riggins Riggs" and, while asking Billy to pass the tater tots, declares that he's moving back in with them. Mindy asks to talk to Billy for a second and gets up and leaves the table.
Tami, in one of her perfect Hot for Teacher shift dresses, walks smiling into a community meeting in the Dillon cafeteria. Off to the side, Coach Taylor shoots some shit with his former assistant coaches. He tells his old friends that he's heard that Wade's got himself a golf cart that he uses on the football field; Coach Mac laughs and says that yes, the man does love his ride. The ball moves 15 yards downfield and he drives to the huddle. Feeling the bonhomie, Coach pleads "Why don't y'all come over? Y'all come over." Mac says he couldn't explain it to his wife, couldn't leave behind the job security and take the pay cut. In the background, Tami takes the podium and starts welcoming everyone to another great year at Dillon High. Before she can get much further, people start shouting her down, wondering why their kids are being forced out of Dillon High. Tami tries to get them to save their questions for the end, but the situation quickly deteriorates; the audience calls East Dillon a hellhole and wonders whether Tami would send her own kid there. Tami says she would, but Julie's been zoned for West Dillon. Julie's in the audience, looking put upon. Tami eventually stops even trying to respond to the audience, who've ratcheted themselves up to "Won't somebody think of the children?!?" levels.
Coach Goes to Sears. Kind of like a moment of Zen. He dumps some big electronic box (perhaps Matt can use it in his "electronics" art?) in front of a salesperson who declares he hasn't seen one of these in a long time. Coach needs it repaired, but the salesperson refuses: "It's garbage now and it was garbage in 1992." But then his expression changes and he declares that he is not about to let the finest high school football coach in the state of Texas walk out that door with a box of garbage! He introduces himself as "Stan Traub," which Coach finds familiar. The guy lists all his Pop Warner coaching stats off, and then reminds Coach that he's faxed his resumé to him five or six times. Coach reluctantly remembers, and continues to try to get help getting his electronics fixed. But Traub won't quit and basically tells Coach that he will come on as an assistant for practically no pay.
Julie and Matt drive up to the McCoy mansion in Matt's Panther Pizza delivery car. Julie wants to go to a party that weekend, but Matt says it's just going to be a "Panther Party." Julie tells Matt that Devin and Landry will be there, that it'll be a "kick back." Matt finally agrees to go, then walks up to the door. J.D. answers and jokes around with Matt that it sucks he didn't go to Chicago this year so J.D. could go after Julie. "HA HA," Matt thinks. When J.D. mentions some missing cinnamon sticks, Matt just ignores him and walks back down the steps. That right there was in a nutshell everything that is wrong with McMansion-type people.
East Dillon Lion practice. Coach yells at Vince for not running the play correctly. In the meantime, Staub repeats everything Coach yells. "You're supposed to be running the four hole!" Coach yells. "THE FOUR HOLE!" Staub echoes. He's like Coach's own personal hype man. Maybe practice he'll toss some t-shirts out into the audience for Coach. Vince mucks it up again, and tries to talk back to Coach's yelling. But Coach cuts that short and the exchange ends with a "Yes, sir" on Vince's part. They run the play again, and Vince gets it, runs his route, and Coach is pleased. Staub bottom-feeds on the small victory, telling Coach he got "goose bumps" but Coach ignores him, tells Vince that the play was "damn nice" and moves on to the thing.
Panther Party. Belly flops into the pool! Solo cups of beer! Adolescent animals standing around trying to figure who's the weakest in the pack! High school "fun"! You know, the kind where some girl's going to end up sobbing and cutting herself in the bathroom! Landry and Devin chat, Landry joking about how it's so rough over at East Dillon he keeps a piece on him at all times. Julie walks in and is immediately collared by a drunk J.D. and his pal Luke. They want to know if she's going to come watch them "make history" on Friday. Dudes, take it down a notch. Only person who gets to speak so grandly is Tim "Let's Touch God This Time, Boys" Riggins. Julie tells them she's going to the Lions game on Friday, anyway. J.D. paws at Julie's hair before drunk mumbling about how his dad gave her dad a shot to continue coaching at Dillon. Julie, in the greatest comeback of all time, sort of smirks and says "Yeah? Well, uh, your dad's an ASS." Meanwhile, Matt's arrived the party, just in time to see J.D. "playfully" pick Julie up to throw her in the pool for that remark. Julie screams at him to stop, which brings Matt running to rip Julie out of J.D.'s arms, then tackle the diminutive douche. The fight gets broken up and J.D. rich-boy whines, "Coach should've never taken me out of the game, Saracen! He just felt sorry for you!" Matt, completely out of place once again, stalks off as J.D. shouts -- his voice practically cracking like a pubescent -- "This is MY Dillon now!"
Commercials. Tim helps Billy paint the nursery the color of yellow baby poop. Tim jokes that the color looks like puke, wondering what ever happened to blue or pink. Billy says Mindy doesn't want to know if the baby is a boy or a girl and insists to Tim that the color is "mustard." Tim keeps teasing him, but Billy isn't in the mood. When Tim won't drop it, Billy tackles him and they do some snuffling around on the ground like dumb boys. Tim doesn't know where the violence came from, tells Billy he was just joking. Billy, red-faced, spits out that none of it is a joke, that Tim just threw away his whole life, that Billy busted his ass for eight years to put Tim through college, and Tim couldn't even make it through September. Tim retorts that it was always only Billy and Lyla that wanted him to go to college, he never did himself. Billy tells Tim that he's got a wife now, is about to be a dad: "There's no room for you here." Well that's just shitty. Who left Billy the sole proprietor of the Playgirl Ranch? Tim leaves, saying in a small voice that all he wanted was to come home. Poor, damaged Timmy Riggins.
Tami walks down the hallway with the Assistant Principal. Tami mutters that she doesn't want to do this, the A.P. exposits that they've got nine students in school who've been notified of their transfer to East Dillon but haven't left. They knock on the door of a classroom and call Devin out of class. Julie happens to be there, too, and she watches Devin go with concern.
Landry and Matt throw the ball through a suspended tire in Matt's driveway. Landry says he'll always be a Panther. When Matt points out that the Panthers are "a buncha idiots this year," Landry clarifies that they're a bunch of talented and fast idiots. Matt reasons that if the Lions are bad enough, Landry might actually see some playing time this year; Landry understands he's just been damned by such faint praise. Grandma Saracen comes out onto the stoop and scolds Matt for not throwing the ball, telling him that Coach is going to need him in top form on Friday night. Matt reminds her that he's not on the team and Coach Taylor isn't the coach anymore, but Grandma just chuckles at such absurdity and then asks "Landry, why are you throwing the ball? You look like a girl." Landry jokingly asks if he can throw just once more, but Grandma just turns to go back inside, muttering that he's "just a funny-looking creature, alright." You guys, quick, two choices: you can either be your regular self, or be an actor on a television show, except your role is built around the fact that you are kind of unattractive. Which do you choose? Wouldn't it be weird if you went to work everyday and had people make jokes about how you are kind of unattractive, in an almost medical way? Does this happen in other workplaces? Anyhow, back to Jesse Plemons, who despite the workplace knocks has beautiful comic timing as he waits for Grandma to go back inside the house, pauses and then deadpans, "She seems like she's doing well." Matt throws the ball some and wonders if it's a bad sign that Julie hasn't called him back. Landry notes that Matt did come off like a chump after the fight the other night, which causes Matt to sputter that J.D.'s the one who's a chump. Landry wonders why Matt isn't taking the high road in his typical Matt Saracen way, Matt just mumblecores around some more.
Tim. Bar. Rode hard older woman bartender. Shots for both. We know where that's headed.
East Dillon. Coach has the kids in a huddle, his assistant coach a bit over-the-top with his Eastbound and Downish hero-worship hype-man schtick. In the back of the huddle, Bad Gold Chain Kid mutters that "this dude can really talk, it's like an infomercial or something." Which: heh. He turns to Landry, who's to him and tells him that he's a funny looking guy, then squirts some water on him to "shine him up." Landry bats him away, having a hard time believing how distractable the kid is. But when Landry kind of taps his arm, the kid sees red and tackles him. Now they> start snuffling around on the ground, the other boys crowd around excitedly and Coach looks on, nothing showing externally, but rage building internally.
Quick cut to the locker room where the boys are gathered in silence. Coach enters as if shot out of a canon and utters one word through tight lips: "Cowards." But then he starts to loosen up. They look like cowards, they look like dumbasses, you NEVER fight on my field, not in MY colors, you don't! And you know what else? You really want to know? Well, Coach'll tell you! You don't talk back on the field, there's no wearing earrings, there's no damn necklaces! You know what there is? "There's you shuttin' up and there's ME talkin." Holy crap, I can barely wait to use that soliloquy on the first day of school fall. Coach tells Landry and Bad Gold Chain Kid to make it right; Landry pops right up and says straightforwardly -- like a man-- "I apologize." Bad Gold Chain Kid gets up, gets in Landry's face, and says "Screw you, Rudy." Coach gets about an inch from his face and starts screaming at him: "Get out of here right now, you get out of my house. You get out of here RIGHT NOW" and on and on. He turns to the rest of the kids, completely out of control, shouting that if anyone else doesn't want to be there, he should leave right now. A couple of kids bail, then a couple more. Coach, seemingly wrung out, asks if anyone else wants to leave. One scraggly voice says "No, sir" so Coach asks again, more forcefully, and the boys answered, clearly a bit scared, in unison, "No, sir." Coach steps to Vince and asks if he's good to stay and Vince croaks, "I wanna play, Coach." That scene was intense. There's such a balance between freedom and discipline one has to strike in educating teenagers (when to let them make their mistakes, when to bring the hammer down), and it's so easy to step over a line where you lose their trust. Coach has clearly just toed that line.
Commercials. Someone sings "The Star Spangled Banner" while Tim groggily wakes up in a strange bed to an unclothed woman. He rolls out of bed, gives us all a glimpse of his black boy shorts, and heads out to find a sassy young woman who will NEVER compare to Tyra (despite her round Tyra face). She stops singing and gives him some business for doing her mom ("Whatever you did to her -- way to go, 33!"). She wonders if her mom realizes she slept with Tim Riggins Tim Riggins, and then declares that she needs a ride to school. Cut outside where Tim fiddles under the hood of the engine while Not-Tyra occasionally tries to start the truck. She babbles on about her singing, and then asks what it's like to be the guy who used to be Tim Riggins. He assures her he still is that guy, though she thinks that probably life is different now that he's not the center of the universe. Meanwhile, about a million other high-schoolers are walking by the truck, suggesting that they are parked about a block from the school. Tim finally asks her if she can, like, walk to school from here, which obviously. She sasses him about how not many guys do repeat performances with her mom, and bids him goodbye.
Coach goes over his roster and tells Staub that there's only 18 kids left on the team. Staub nervously declares that Coach's outburst was a risky move, maybe not the best idea in the world. Coach asks Staub to learn how to filter his thoughts. Coach doffs his hat and rubs his beleaguered hair; he begins going over what their plan needs to be: "We need to perfect the five and six." Staub, nodding: "perfect the five and six." Coach: "Run the ball down..." Staub: "Run the ball down..." and so on until Coach bangs his arms on the desk and yells at Staub to stop repeating everything he says. Before these two start snuffling around on the ground like a bunch of dumb boys, one of Coach's former assistants from Dillon walks in the door. The soundtrack gives us a little lift as Coach's face brightens and he tells the Dillon guy to take off the blue hat.
Sammy Meade, on the radio, tells us this is a historic day, there's not one but two football games going on in their town. Tami walks into the kitchen, she and Coach do their little domestic dance with coffee, dress zipping, et cetera. They talk about how they'll be at different games tonight and end up doing some a.m. snugglesmooching in the kitchen when Julie walks in and declares "GROSS!" Tami trills "Hi, honey!" Whenever Tami Taylor says those words, I have this involuntary reaction where I have to say them in the same trilling intonation, always to my dog's great pleasure: he rouses from a deep sleep, ears cocked, wishing with all his doggie might that Tami Taylor's come for a visit. So, back to the show. Julie promptly declares that she's going to go to East Dillon this year. Her parents are speechless as she explains that Landry and Devin are there, and all her other friends have graduated (which: Julie, you need a bit more of a social life), and that since they keep saying East Dillon is just as good, this is "the best move" for her. Parents: still speechless. Julie gives them the thumbs-up and walks out. Tami's mouth hangs open, Coach whispers "Say something!' and Tami finally snaps into (lame) action, squawking "No! No!" as she follows Julie outside.
East Dillon Lions locker room. The kids sit around, legs bouncing with nerves. One player sings a hymn about a battlefield. Coach comes in, and the scraggly bunch all take a knee. Coach delivers a bolstering speech, telling them that no matter if they've been on the field before or not, they all need to focus on the fundamentals. But beyond that, Coach wants to remind them, "There's a joy to this game, is there not?" "Yes, sir." He waxes some more on the pride and joy that football provides and the respect that it demands. He asks them to go out there and have fun because "Tomorrow, if you give a hundred percent tonight, people are gonna look at you differently... and I promise, you're going to look and think differently about yourselves." The boys look at him, wanting to believe, but not totally convinced. Coach has a ways to go with them. But he starts here: "Clear eyes, full hearts." Landry is the only one to respond at first, "Can't lose." Coach says it again, "Clear eyes, full hearts" and picks up a few more, then one last time, "Clear eyes, full hearts" and the 18 of them muster as much as they can with such small numbers, "Can't lose!" And they're out, shouting and happy.
Commercials. At West Dillon Panther Stadium, they're pumped and rich. At East Dillon Lion Bleachers, Not Tyra squawks "The Star Spangled Banner." At West Dillon, Tami gets sent to the coin toss by Wade, the stadium is raucous, and he shouts directions at her: they want to start on defense, and they really like to call heads. She nods at him as she strides onto the field, greets the ref and the boys, and then promptly calls tails and picks offense. Tami Taylor, you magnificent bastard!
Back at East Dillon, Vince is fast and good, the boys are off to a decent start. But after the huddle, the snap gets fumbled at their own line of scrimmage. play, Vince gets drilled, and then the huddle finds the quarterback calling a "Barracuda Right" to the confusion of the rest of the guys: "That's not a play." Landry thinks a minute and jumps in, "It's Oklahoma Right," but no matter what you call the play, what happens to the quarterback is called "sacked." Coach and Staub are shouting and upset on the sidelines, but the more of the game we see -- repeat touchdowns by the opposing team, repeat huge hits on Vince Howard, more confusion in the huddles -- the more Coach is left quiet and shocked. The score is 45-0 as we go into a terrible montage of huge hits on the Lions players. As we go to halftime, the announcer notes that Taylor is known for his halftime adjustments, but this is "as bad as anything I have ever seen on a football field."
The locker room is quiet except for the sounds of men tending to boys' injuries. Vince's ankle gets iced, Landry fishes around his mouth for what seems like a loose tooth. Sufjan Stevens's typically pretty "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" begins playing on the soundtrack. Coach comes in, gets the report on Vince's ankle, which is sprained and then walks around the room, checking on his soldiers. To a one, they all assure them that they're doing alright, they're solid. Coach is full of tenderness for them as he stands and looks around, his upright and good hair telling us that he knows what he has to do. We cut outside to Coach walking up to the ref, who's surprised to see him: there's still a few minutes left in halftime. Coach calls the ref closer and says quietly, painfully, "We gotta call the game." The ref doesn't totally follow and Coach asks if he needs a dissertation or something, they've got to call the damn game. Apparently he still hasn't said the magic words, so, with a recently-arrived Tami looking on from the bleachers, Coach says forcefully and mournfully, "Fine, we would like to forfeit the game, is that what you want to hear?" The ref blows the whistle, calls the game, and if you thought the show had run out of ways to break your heart, you were wrong. Eric Taylor doesn't quit, except for when he has to, for the good of those kids.
Watch the episode here, discuss it in our forums, then see FNL's Best and Worst Plays!
Want to immediately access TWoP content no matter where you are online? Download the free TWoP toolbar for your web browser. Already have a customized toolbar? Then just add our free toolbar app to get updated on our content as soon it's published.