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Whoa. I think I have PTSD from this episode. Everyone was acting so good and sweet, but their goodness and sweetness only counts for so much in the face of the world's extreme shit-it-tude, and then plus I don't know if you noticed but COACH CRIED. And when he did, he turned his back on us, just like that one, single time when my dad cried in front of me. Seriously: PTSD.
The Lions felt betrayed by Coach's decision to forfeit the game, so they all stopped showing up to practice. Coach tries appealing to Landry: no dice. He tries tracking down Vince at home: no dice (plus bonus depressing junkie mom discovery! ) He tries imploring Vince on the basketball courts: no dice. So he takes all that lack of dice and does some Coach Taylor-style gambling with it: he calls a special Saturday night practice and hopes the kids would show. When they do come shambling out to their shambles of a field, Coach has some inspirational words for them: he apologizes for not letting them finish what they started and he promises them that if they were willing, they could all start again. He starts a bonfire and has them throw their old jerseys in it, hoping something resembling a team will rise from the ashes.
Part of this Phoenix-like team is going to be Luke, one of the new stars of the Panthers, who is discovered to be illegally enrolled at West Dillon. Buddy feeds this info to Coach, who passes it along to Tami, who takes on Joe McCoy and the boosters on the issue. She informs them that Luke legally must attend East Dillon; Joe threatens her something fierce (something about how the illegal enrollment thing is a longstanding tradition with the Panthers, and some of her husband's State championships might be retroactively at risk should Joe do some digging into the issue), but Tami stands her ground in a variety of awesome ways. Joe doesn't miss a chance to get her where it really hurts: riling up the student body so that they boo Tami at the pep rally. It's really heartbreaking to watch. But let's not forget to say a couple of words about this Luke who everyone is pulling this way and that. Those couple of words will be: freaking adorable. Seriously.
Tim is still homeless since Billy kicked him out, but he finds a temporary place staying in the hipstery trailer in the backyard of the mom he slept with last week. Conveniently enough, her Not Tyra daughter hangs around out back wearing skimpy nighties. And Matt scored an "internship" with a crazy local artist who, it appears, "works in metal" (not electronics) and does so in his underwear. He's a hard nut to crack, but Matt finally gets him to open up and tell him that he thinks Matt's art pretty much sucks.
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Want more? The full recap starts right below!We open on a painterly horizon shot. It's early morning, the sky is pastel, everything is stretched and horizontal. Tim Riggins is asleep in the back of his truck parked out here in the middle of nowhere when a policeman comes by and rouses him. He tells him he can't park like this on private property, and then realizes, "Hey! Aren't you Tim Riggins?" But the name has no real currency any longer and Tim is told to move along.
Coach Taylor wakes with a start in a sunwashed bedroom, ceiling fan spinning above him, seemingly remembers what happened last night, and falls back onto his pillow for a minute. He comes out into the kitchen, where Julie and Matt entertain Gracie Bell. Coach greets them gruffly and pours himself some coffee, which Julie brightly informs him that they made. Coach wonders whether the newspaper's been brought in, and Matt springs up to go get it for him. Coach: "I'll git it!" Matt: continues to go for the paper mumbling about being happy to go get it. Coach: "I'll git it!" Matt: more mumbling and shuffling. Coach: "I'LL GIT MY OWN NEWSPAPER." Matt, finally: "Yes, sir." Coach, a bit abashed by the outburst, thanks them for the coffee and heads outside... to find Tami in the front yard gathering all the homemade staked white flags reading things like "Quitter" that are standing in the front yard. She trills good morning at him, and then tells him to just "go on," she'll take care of it. I wonder who exactly put the signs there -- the 20 people in the stands at the Lions game? Last week, it didn't seem like there was that much grassroots interest in the football team by East Dillon folks, i.e. they didn't seem to realize there was a football team.
Over in the Panther locker room, the boys and coaches go over game tape from the night. They whoop and holler, reliving their apparently awesome win. Wade and Joe McCoy shake their hands and marvel over the combo of J.D. and running back Luke. They can smell state.
The scene is much less convivial in the Lions locker room, not only because they got their asses kicked so decisively, but because none of the players have even showed up to required Saturday morning practice. Coach and Staub sit and watch the depressing game tape, Coach is pissed because the players know they're supposed to be there. No Name Former Panther Coach comes in and says that he's looked everywhere and there's no players anywhere around East Dillon. Coach leaves and gets into his truck when Buddy pulls up beside him. Buddy! He'd been lurking around a few scenes last week, obviously unhappy with the way Joe and Wade are running the Panthers like their own personal plantation. And now here he is! Seeming so familiar and comfortable to me! Calling Coach "friend!" Coach tells him he doesn't have time right now, but Buddy insists that he has something important to show him. Cut to Coach and Buddy standing around an empty lot, Buddy telling Coach that they are standing right at the address that's on the books for the Panther's star running back Luke Cafferty. Coach wonders where Luke really lives, and Buddy delivers the news: "East Dillon. He's supposed to be yours."
Credits. New things I'm still not used to: Coach in a red hat. Aggressively dancing girl. Old things I still love: Coach dancing with Julie, Tami's little shimmy-turn. New things I'm primed to love: LUKE CAFFERTY!
Taylor kitchen, morning. Tami and Eric discuss the Luke discovery, Tami can't believe that they didn't think Luke's illegal enrollment would come to the fore. She's worried that this is going to look like a "Mrs. Coach" move on her part. Coach yells for Julie, they're late. He reassures Tami that she didn't do anything wrong. That's not the issue, Tami tells him: the boosters and coaches at West Dillon are all about doing wrong, that's the problem. And, plus, she feels awful for poor Luke Cafferty, who has to get dragged over to East Dillon now. Coach takes grumpy morning offense to this, isn't it so awful that he'll have to go to Coach's school now. Julie comes out, packs her bag and entertains questions from her mother about whether she's ready for her first day at East Dillon. Julie's excited, and her mom tells her to be careful. Julie; "It's school, mom, not a prison yard." I guess the final discussion about Julie switching schools (which-- seriously-- if Luke Cafferty can't just switch schools to suit his needs, why can Julie?) took place off-screen.
East Dillon. Lots more African-American students. In case we didn't register that with our eyes, the soundtrack's African American Sonic Forcefield that used to be in effect whenever Smash was on screen reminds us. Julie wanders gingerly through the hallways of the school where rap music inexplicably plays. Cut over to Vince walking up the stairwell. First, he encounters a vandalized Lions banner calling them losers, then a little white flag protruding from his locker. I really like this actor, and not just because his portrayal of Wallace on The Wire was so gut-wrenching. He has this great quality where his eyes are sweet and soft and naive, but his jaw is angry, and the conflict between those two really suit him to play characters like Vince or Wallace.
Drawing class. The draped model apparently fell asleep in the tanning bed, she's all weirdly red. Matt works diligently when his instructor comes over and tells him that she took the liberty of putting him up for an internship with a local artist named Richard Sherman. He selected Matt, which she tells him is quite an honor: "The guy's a genius." Matt wonders why she did this for him, and she tells him that it's because he has what every important artist needs: "pluck." God. I hate this lady and her prim, teacherly ways in exactly the way I fear my own students might hate me sometimes.
Landry tries to pull into a parking spot at school, but a crowd of black kids refuse to move for him. He gives him and starts to back up when we hear a thud-crunch. Landry's jaw drops, he pauses, and then hops out of the car. Behind, a girl struggles to extricate her bicycle from underneath his fender. She's fine and she's gives Landry a piece of her mind. The best part is when she's yelling at him, and Landry cracks a nervous smile and she says, "This isn't a laughing matter." There's something particularly evocative there; Landry's already-guilty white effacement, manifesting in nervous laughter. She tells him that she must need to explain something to him: it took her a long time to save up for the bike, so it means a lot to her, "cuz not everyone has a car bought by their daddy." Okay. That was a little Soc 101 dialogue but whatever. Landry is like, "I am not fighting with you, woman!" He totally agrees that he should pay for the damages. She asks his name, and tells him hers: Jess Merriweather.
Matt drives up to his new internship with the artist. WEARING A SUIT. Please just let me die, because these naive Texas boys keep trying to kill me. He lets himself into the yard, which looks like a junkyard, filled with rusting metal sculptures. He picks his way toward the back shed, out of which come loud welding or die cutting noises, and knocks on the corrugated door. A crazy man -- who in a fleeting moment of panic I took for Craig T. Nelson -- comes to the door, dirty face, wacky hair, cigarette hanging from his mouth, and barks at Matt for knocking. Matt scans the guy's get-up, which the camera helpfully reveals to us consists of no shirt, greyish baggie whiteys, socks and slippers, and says that he must be mistaken, he's looking for an artist guy. Matt, what do you think artists are like? They are, to a one, raging maniacal douchebaggy narcissists! Whose sole job in life to to express their point of view! Welcome to your future, kid. The guy confirms that he is, indeed, Richard Sherman, and lets Matt in his studio.
East Dillon cafeteria. Landry notices Coach Taylor coming in and tries to leave before he makes his way over to him. Coach reaches out to him and asks what's going on with the team. Landry just looks at him and asks "Why did you forfeit the game?" Coach gets pissed and tells Landry that he does not need to explain his decisions to him, but Landry keeps going, telling him that they all gave everything they had on the field, and Coach just quit on them. "I don't know if you know how that feels, but it doesn't feel good." Coach is reduced to stammering kind of angrily when Landry just cuts him off: "I'm done, and everyone else is done" and then walks away, leaving Coach in the middle of the cafeteria, hands on hips which everyone knows signifies MELTDOWN APPROACHING in Coach's emotional world.
Over in West Dillon, the flashy team with its super-saturated colors practices in the rain. Tami stands on the sidelines with a big blue and white golf umbrella and calls Luke over at a break in the plays. He comes over like a goofy labrador retriever, grinning and wondering if she saw that awesome play he just ran. She smiles and softly says she did and it was real good. He "yes ma'ams" her to death. She asks him to tell her where he lives and he says "2268 Oakdale Road." Tami quietly asks if that is really where he lives and he lies again. She tells him that she knows that that address is an empty field with a mailbox. She tells him that she knows he lives in Kilroy, which is zoned for East Dillon. He switches immediately to panic mode and says that he's done so much for the Panthers, he's worked so hard, and he wonders if there's something she can do, maybe write a letter to the governor? She says that she can't, the only thing that could happen would be for his parents to move. Luke says that will never happen. Tami apologizes but says that he needs to go pack up his stuff and, starting tomorrow, he needs to go to East Dillon. This news moves Luke from panic to desperation: his lips start trembling, he starts moving back and forth on his feet, he starts bargaining with Tami. He promises he'll get As in every class, he'll do anything, anything at all. This is seriously painful to watch. Kudos to Matt Lauria. It's so hard to watch young people learn hard lessons, to watch them resist with every fiber of their beings. It's like they still believe that they can change things through sheer force of will. It's this totally admirable and sweet belief that doesn't stand up to how the world works. You guys. This scene is killing me. Luke begs a bit more, fully crying now, but Tami calmly and gently tells him this is the way it has to be. He understands that she won't budge and decides to stop himself before he gets in too deep, then he rubs his face with his hands and lies that he's okay, he's okay. Then, because he isn't aware of how freaking precious he is, he starts thanking her, "thank you very much," before turning to leave. She turns to leave, too, and we see him pause and come back for one more thing. We don't know what it will be, we probably imagine he's had one last ditch idea for how he can convince her to leave him be. But he calls her back not to beg for himself but to apologize: "I'm sorry for lying to you that whole time, and I'm sorry for lying to your face just then." YOU GUYS. Tami tells him that she really appreciates him saying so, and she tries to assure him that he'll be alright. Behind him, a coach calls for him to come back, and Luke calls out with fake cheer that he'll be right there. THIS KID.
Commercials. Tim and Billy are at work and bickering like an old married couple. Tim's under a car, Billy's yelling at him for taking too long on the transmission (that's what she said!), Tim's retorting that he hasn't been paid for two weeks. Billy's stretched pretty thin, and snaps at Tim to back off, he's not getting any sleep, his pregnant wife is ca-raaazy, and Tim just stares at his brother gape-mouthed and then pantomimes putting a gun in his mouth and blowing his beautiful brains out. The phone rings, Billy answers it just in time to shout "SHUT UP!" at Tim, who is asking for some kind of tool that Billy's hogging (that's what she said!). Billy stammers an apology into the phone, takes down a request, and tells Tim that he's got to go out in the tow truck to pick somebody up.
Tami is getting out of her car in the school parking lot when the Two Goobers come driving up to her in their golf cart. How genius is this golf cart addition? The golf cart as synechdochal represention of Wade's and Joe's extremely evil douchebaggery? Joe gets out, literally rubbing his paws-y hands together and asks Tami "What's it gonna take?" Tami plays dumb for a moment, saying she doesn't know what conversation they're having. Wade just chuckles and says he thinks she knows, and she bites, "We talkin' 'bout Luke here?" They all chuckle to themselves a bit, and Joe asks whether it's going to take new books for the library, new instruments, or what? Tami, wearing her aviators, but expressing all the disgust she needs to in her perfectly polite but slightly snarled mouth: "Are y'all comin' to me in the school parking lot offerin' me a bribe?" Wade tells her that she needs to be reasonable, that kicking Luke out of West Dillon isn't good for him or for the team. Joe jumps in to wonder what's going to happen to her when this all goes down: "I think you're going to get lynched." Oh, Joe. Inappropriate in so many ways. Connie Britton with perfect delivery says tightly "Oh, that is so sweet, you are so sweet to think about me, Icantakecareofmyselfthankyou." Wade explains that if Luke is removed, they'll have to take a forfeit for the first game that they just won, which may put State out of reach for them this year. Tami reminds them that Luke is enrolled there illegally, and Wade comes in with the closing argument, noting that Luke will just happen to re-enroll at the school where her husband is the football coach. And further, Wade -- you know he's just spitballing here (wouldn't he be the exact kind of douche to say such a thing? -- wonders who put up that mailbox. He tells her to go home and ask Eric if he knows, because the Dillon Panthers have been using that mailbox for a long time. And if Wade started doing some digging around, there's no telling what could happen: games could be forfeited, rings could be lost. Tami whips her aviators off and you can tell that he's gotten to her.
Tim drives down the road in the tow truck only to pull up in front of Not Tyra's house. She comes bouncing out in her jeans shorts and cowboy boots and greets him brightly, "Hey Tim Riggins who used to be a Panther!" He realizes she doesn't need a tow, and she just starts babbling about how she needs a ride because her dog went missing that morning, and her hair was doing this flip thing she wasn't too sure about and her mom isn't there to give her a ride and she missed the bus, etc, etc. This girl is still not even coming close to measuring up to Tyra or Lyla standards.
Matt drives Julie around. Julie's wearing a (his, presumably) blue baseball cap. Where's the new Lion spirit, Julie?! He complains about how all he did for his internship the other day was carry big, heavy, rusty pieces of metal around a junkyard. Julie giggles thinking about the eccentric naked artist and then ventures a guess that maybe he just doesn't realize Matt is a good artist because Matt goes to -- tone of complete disgust -- "community college." Matt nods ruefully and Julie realizes that that was just total bitchface of her, so she scrambles to make up, telling Matt that he just needs to get Richard excited, show him his awesome art. Matt jokes, "Well, you know I have been told that I have 'pluck,'" and then they both laugh, because they are young and free and old people are so squaresville.
Lower income apartment complex. Coach pulls up and attracts stares from various mainly black folks milling about in the parking lot and on the balcony. He makes his way up to a second floor apartment, and we cut away to a non-rich white couple kind of rolling their eyes at his attempting to knock on that door. He knocks and a woman answers, opening the door just a crack. He introduces himself and asks if she is Vince's mother and she looks at him with total junkie half-lid eyes. Coach explains that Vince hasn't been coming to practice, and the woman just says that's his business: "Ain't no laws about missin' no practice." She starts to close the door on him, but Coach reaches out a hand to stop the door and says that he's just trying to help her son. In a raspy, desperate voice she begs him for 20 bucks. He takes out his wallet, and the camera cuts to Vince down in the parking lot looking on with horror at this exchange. Coach hands over the twenty and she tells him that Vince is at Lincoln and Victory almost every night.
Gas station. Coach is sitting in his truck (for unclear reasons-- this isn't New Jersey, you don't have to wait for an attendant!) when a man asks him for directions to Lubbock. The man is Mike Leach, former Texas Tech football coach, scandal-plagued and fired since his appearance on the first airing of this episode. So he doesn't just play crackpots on TV, he is one in real life, too! The man approaches Coach's car, realizing that he's talking to the coach of "Dillon East." Coach stays silent while this man tells him that he's lost his inner pirate, you know, have you ever heard of "swing your sword?" The last thing the world needs is two football coaches talking about swords. Let's leave at least some things in the realm of metaphor, fellas. Well, this crackpot thinks that where Coach should be swinging his sword like this-- erect and out in front of him-- he's actuallly swinging it like this-- limp and hanging down. Wow. With clarifying hand gestures and everything. Coach, his sweaty, August Texas face lit by the buzzing neon lights of the gas station just looks at the man in disbelief, but his gas station angel continues, telling Coach that things happen for a reason, even though we don't know the reason, and Coach might be the luckiest man alive and not even know it. Leach gets in his truck and drives off, aaand end Twin Peaks homage.
Coach arrives home, where Tami's chopping cucumbers -- a coincidence following all the sword talk? I don't think so! They greet one another, and then Tami launches right into it. "Babe. Babe. Did you know that mailbox was out in front of that empty field?" Coach buys himself some time by asking her what she's talking about, and she relays that Joe McCoy suggested that perhaps Coach knew about this mailbox, and she wants to know if that's true. Coach tells her that he doesn't follow what the boosters and parents do to try to get kids on the team, and Tami just gives him a "hmmm mmm." He wants to know what that means, and she starts moving around rather briskly, saying that he was paying a lot of attention the past couple of days trying to get Luke Cafferty on his team, and now she's in a really bad position because Joe McCoy is threatening to do all kinds of research that might take away state titles, as in Coach's state title. Coach's hair just REALLY doesn't have time for this shit right now, and Eric tells his wife that "Well, honey," (let me insert that that was a masterful redeployment of her own bitchy use of the term of endearment) "I may not even have a team." He explains to her what's been happening with his players not showing up to practice. Tami says she's sorry to hear that, and Coach shares with her that Landry practically told him to go to hell in the middle of the cafeteria. Tami says, again, that she's sorry to hear about all this, but that she really wishes Coach hadn't lied to her. He insists that he didn't lie, and their voices start raising, and this scene just perfectly renders how just the act of YELLING like this can really hurt your heart, even though you can't stop yourself from doing it. They aren't really saying anything hurtful to one another, but they are not hearing one another, and so the yelling must commence. Coach yells at Tami that he didn't put the mailbox there and complains about getting yelled at the first thing he comes into his house, and Tami just lets one rip from her diaphragm: "Well, then, don't LIE to me, then!" Coach storms out, making sure to yell-inform to her that he's going to get some milk. And now that's damn cute.
Commercials. Coach pulls up to a basketball court where Vince is playing. Bad Gold Chain Kid moans when he sees Coach coming, and goes up to Eric and says, "Can't you see we hoopin', man?" Coach calls out to Vince that he wants to talk to him, but Vince ignores him and keeps playing. Coach continues talking to him even though he's not paying attention. He tells him that Officer Shaw keeps calling, and Coach can't keep him at bay forever, he tells Vince that he's really good -- he's been watching the game tape, and Vince is running the 40 in under five in full pads -- he's got a lot of talent. Vince keeps playing, seemingly nothing getting through. It's painful to watch Coach try so hard and fail so fully. Vince just keeps playing while Coach stands on the side asking him if he's just going to throw it all away. Finally, Coach realizes he can't abase himself any longer, and so he tells Vince this is his last chance. Vince continues ignoring him, and Coach turns to leave; "Your choice, big man." Camera shows us Vince looking after Coach, those soft eyes betraying him.
Matt shows Richard his art. Richard just quickly and carelessly flips through the large drawings and, before Matt can even ask what he thinks, instructs Matt that there's a bunch of Chevy parts out front that he needs moved. Matt listlessly says "Yes, sir."
Ray's Bar-B (the Q is missing from the sign atop the little shack-like restaurant). Inside, Jess moves around clearing dishes and talking to her father -- that guy from The Practice -- who apparently owns the restaurant. Landry's there having some food, Jess doesn't pay him any mind. A few plates drop on the floor as she brushes by him, and he jumps up to pick them up. She doesn't notice this, either. He brings them to the back counter, where she and her father are conferring, and they look at him like he's nuts: "What do you want?" the father wants to know. Landry just says that Jess looked busy, so he wanted to help her out; you know, they go to school together. Jess blanks on his name when introducing him to her father, and her father just shoves a garbage bag at him: "Here, take this out back, thanks for your help." When Landry's gone, the father looks at Jess and is clearly just like "That funny-looking white boy?"
Lions coaching office. Eric, Staub and The Coach with No Name sit around. Coach tells them that what they're going to do is call a special Saturday night practice, and if that doesn't work they're going to start over. Staub wants to know what "start over" means, and Coach says he doesn't know. Melancholy Guitars of Impending Emotional Breakdown have begun on the soundtrack, and Coach gets up and rushes outside to the field. The camera follows him from behind, circles around to show his pained face as he looks out on this crappy field of his, his breathing getting raspy and thick. We cut to a long shot of Coach looking totally beaten down and then to a shot of Tim Riggins approaching. The camera cuts to Coach from behind, whose head hangs down in the posture of Potentially Crying Dad. But the thing is, Tim Riggins totally doesn't get it. He sees Coach's back and breaks out into a wide smile. And now my heart is broken. There's Coach Taylor, in the midst of a serious emotional breakdown, nearly IN TEARS -- and football coaches and dads DON'T CRY right? -- but here comes Tim Riggins, in desperate need of a father. So, he's going to come up there, and Coach is going to have to get his shit together and be a father for this kid, because the reason dads don't cry isn't because they are dickish, unemotional or unavailable-- they don't cry because they don't have the time or space to, because all these kids need them all the damn time. Sigh. Tim calls out to him, and Coach turns around and is pleased to see him. He wonders why Tim isn't in college, and Tim just says that he's working full time with his brother. Tim tells Coach that he looks different, and Coach just nods, "It's the color" (NOT THE TEARS). Tim tells Coach that he heard about the forfeit and the shaky start, and he'd love to be a part of it in any way. Coach's chest fills and he realizes, "You're offering your help to me?" and Tim tells him "Yes, sir." Coach taps him on the arm and tells him to come along, Tim's face brightens into a huge smile.
Commercials. The boosters are meeting at Applebee's. Joe's at the head of the table of about 20 good ole boys going through injury reports when Tami comes in. She lays it on thick, apologizing for interrupting and saying she just wants a quick word with Joe. She tells the other guys to talk amongst themselves and goes straight to the head of the table and tells Joe that she just wanted to make sure they didn't have any misunderstanding the other day -- "You know, with the golf cart and all that" -- and that her decision has been made, and Luke Cafferty is going to East Dillon High. She's got the attention of the table, which is obviously what she wants, and Tami Taylor for freaking President, you guys, this is masterful politicking. Joe, in front of all his arrested-development peers, can only say "And are you clear on what I told you?" And Tami raises her voice just a bit and declares, "Oh, that thing where you were talking about doing an investigation and retroactively taking away Panther state titles?" Camera cuts to a good ole boy playing with his enormous state championship ring and staring blazes down toward Joe McCoy. Tami raises her voice even more and tells Joe that she just wanted to make sure he's run his investigation plan by all these fellas here, cause she's sure there's lots of rings in this group, family and whatnot. She reiterates that she is clear where she stands on the Luke Cafferty thing, and then sweetly trills her way out of there-- "I'll let y'all get back to it, y'all enjoy now!" Joe is totally speechless and Tami Taylor is the most stratospherically awesome lady in the entire universe.
Back at the Junkyard of Artistic Expression, Matt cuts his hand while handling a rusty old fender. He pissily informs Richard that he has to go to the hospital to get a tetanus shot. Richard, with a welding mask on, tells him that is just brilliant. Matt turns on his heel and Richard flips his mask up and asks him what his problem is. Matt tells him that Richard's the one with the problem: "You're rude, nasty, and I get that you're an artist, but the reason I'm here is because I want to be an artist." Matt Saracen, you need to don some very tight jeans and let the discomfort of your crotch area guide you into artistic assholishness. Matt complains to Richard that the least Richard could do is say something about the art he showed him. Richard grabs the portfolio again and takes out the drawings, flips through them, and sarcastically exclaims "Whoaa!" But he finally gets to one drawing toward the end, and rips it up. He hands Matt the ripped section -- which depicts a hand -- and tells him "This part here doesn't make me want to puke. Try to work from this place."
Coach is in his office when Vince walks in, letting his tough jaw do the talking. Vince tosses a twenty on Coach's desk and tells him "You're not my father. I support my family. She had no business taking that from you. Shouldn't a given it to her." Holy to the point. Way to call bullshit on the white paternalism thing, Vince. Coach asks Vince to sit down, which Vince does, showing us a face that is allowing those soft, vulnerable eyes to take over from that tough jaw. Coach apologizes and then asks Vince: "Don't quit on me. Don't quit on yourself." Coach asks Vince to do him a favor and help him put the pieces of the broken team back together. Coach says he doesn't know where he's going, but he'll be able to get another job -- but if this "job" doesn't work out for Vince, they both know where Vince is going. Hard truth, that this will be a job for a kid like Vince. Coach tells Vince about the special practice on Saturday night and begs him: "Talk to 'em and bring 'em to me." Vince doesn't agree or disagree, he gets up to leave, with Coach calling after him, asking, asking, asking.
One of those scarily huge pep rallies at West Dillon. The cheerleaders are on the floor, the band is playing, everyone is whipped up into a froth, kids in the stands are holding signs that say "We Want Luke," Joe McCoy is standing off to the side. Why is this guy allowed on campus all the time? Is that how it works? I don't remember random adults/parents hanging around my high school ever. The band stops, the crowd chants -- "We Want" clap clap "Panthers" clap clap -- as Tami takes the podium. But just as she leans into the microphone, the chant turns to booing. It takes her a moment to register it, but it's painful when she does. She tries to limp along, welcoming them all and talking about the big game coming up, but the booing gets louder. Cut over to Wade, McCoy and the football team, who stand around with arms crossed; cut to Buddy standing in an alcove somewhere, feeling sorry for Tami. Cut back to Tami, telling the students, "I will wait." But as she quiets down, the students get more and more riled up, starting a chant about wanting Luke. Tami fights the tears in her eyes, glances over at Joe, who is shot and lit from below by the camera but also by the fires of the devil he serves.
Commercials. Nighttime. East Dillon field. It's hot, the crickets buzz, the only people there are the three coaches, waiting. A lone figure enters from the left -- it's Luke. He runs up softly, like he's walking on egg shells, like he doesn't want to do anything that might set something in motion that might further completely fuck up his life. He politely introduces himself to the coaches and then asks where the team is. Awkward silence. Coach paces, hands on hips in Gonna Blow pose, when one of the assistant coaches directs his attention to the bleachers. And there they are. If you build it and then try to bribe somebody's junkie mom, but he catches you and yells at you, but then you appeal to his better self... they will come! Coach doesn't miss a beat, he doesn't thank them for coming, he just greets them as they come in. They stand around, wary, and Coach launches into one of his speeches: he tells them that last week, they got their asses kicked, and there is no shame in that. But Coach has shame and he apologizes for not giving them the chance to finish their fight. He tells them that he wants to finish the fight with them, and he asks them if they will allow him to help them finish that fight. That's a lot of prepositions, Coach! They all stand there looking at each other until Coach goes over and lights a fire in a barrel and then starts throwing their game tapes in. The game tapes represent the past. He grabs a jersey and he asks them again, "Who wants to finish this fight? Who will finish this fight with me?" The players all look down, probably less because they are taking his question to heart, and more because they have no idea how to interact with such an overly sincere request. In my experience, teenagers often respond to sincerity with looking down at the ground where they are hoping to find irony and the ability to not have to interact with any adults ever again. Finally, Vince comes forward, grabs the jersey out of Coach's hands, they look at each other a long while, and then Vince tosses the jersey in the fire. Landry's , then Tanker, then Luke-- taking off his blue Panthers t-shirt!-- and then all the nameless boys start lining up as Coach starts a refrain "Let's finish it! Let's finish it!" and the boys respond by starting to clap and yell sincere man things like "Let's do this!"
Tim's back at the bar. Not Tyra's mom is bartending and looking in her mid-30s, which is depressing because she's an "older woman" here. She tells Tim it looks like he hasn't slept in weeks, and he admits he's looking for a place, which is kind of hard "when you don't have first and last." She pauses and tells him that she does have a trailer in her backyard, and she'd charge him a hundred dollars a month. Tim thinks that's sweet, but... She puts her chin on her hands on the bar and tells him to not get her wrong, the other night was unbelievable, but she's not that into him, and she can tell that he isn't that into her, so they don't need to go there. She promises (yeah right, lady) to not come banging on his door in the middle of the night, and tells him that she could use the cash. He asks when, and she says he can move in that night. She narrates that she's going to give her daughter a call to give her the heads-up, since she won't know Tim from Adam, and her mom doesn't want Tim to scare her. Tim just kind of smiles to himself on this last point -- and this is some Gossip Girl-level-incest-type relationship shuffling, isn't it?
Cut to Tim pulling up to his new abode. Not Tyra is outside taking the laundry off the line, wearing a real short T-shirt nightie like it's a John Mellancamp song about hot nights with hot girls in a small town. She just sort of watches him walk up to his Airstream trailer (lest we get the sense that he's trailer trash, we've got to make sure this kid is staying in a hipstery kind of trailer). He closes the door, she goes back into the house, but he's totally peeping her from his little porthole window in the trailer. Trouble!
Tami's sitting on the couch watching television. She turns it off when Coach comes in. He asks what she's doing and she just says "Drinkin' wine" with a real nice Southern melody delivery of that line. Coach sits down, groans a bit, and puts his arm around her. He asks her how things went today and she tells him that she got booed at the pep rally. "What do you mean 'booed'?" "I mean boooed" she intones it a little more deeply. Her lips turn into a frown, her brow creases. "Booo" she says very deeply. She tells him that she did get one little moment of satisfaction, being able to stand up to those good ole boys, Joe McCoy and his crew. She realizes she has that going for her, "and wine." Coach's hair is feeling bittersweet in an "it's been a long week, but it's Saturday night" kind of way. He tells Tami that the boys showed up, which makes her smile. "It's a start" he says. Tami quietly says she's sorry about their fight, Coach looks at her and tells her that he's sorry that he lied. It's over, and the Taylors have once again taught us some lessons about how to be married. As we cut to black, Coach mentions that now he just needs to figure out how to get his team new uniforms.
Watch the episode here, discuss it in our forums, then see FNL's Best and Worst Plays!
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