So Matt's gone, baby, gone, and Julie copes by drowning herself -- and a commandeered Landry -- in extracurriculars, including Academic Smackdown, which Julie attacks like the WWE product it's named for. Lucky for Landry, Jess is also a smackdowner, and he's finally able to muster the courage to talk his way around to a breakup voicemail to Tyra. Later, he's able to sweet talk Jess into accepting a date with him. Julie, however, is reeling, especially after finding out Matt found an apartment, told Grandma and Shelby about it, and still hasn't called her. At the big Smackdown meet (against West Dillon, natch), Julie sobs through her answer about Thomas Wolfe ("You Can't Go Home Again"), and again to Tami backstage, because teenage breakup hurts like an actual hammer to your bones.
For her part, Tami finds out Dillon High has won a blue ribbon award for academic excellence, and since Eric and Julie are off experiencing their own subplots and not able to celebrate Tami's achievement to GLENN's satisfaction, he organizes a faculty karaoke night, which wins a blue ribbon award for OH MY YES. There are shots and mom-dancing to "Car Wash" and GLENN growling out "Don't You (Forget About Me)." Afterwards, everybody's drunk, and GLENN is slurring about how Tami is such a super lady, and she tries to put him in a cab but he tries to kiss her! I mean, wouldn't we all, but that is no kind of a good idea if you're GLENN. The morning, he apologizes profusely for his attempted mouth-raping, and Tami is kind but firm, saying it can't ever happen again.
It's the time of the season for cattle-rustling at the Cafferty ranch, so Luke is stuck at home, fixing a fence, not able to go to football practice or say "sucks." But that's not going to work for Coach; no class means Luke can't practice, which means he can't play in the big game happening in two weeks. So now Luke's mending fences, then school, then practice, then more fence-mending, and he's looking pretty haggard. Leave it to Tinker -- giant, wonderful Tinker -- who offers to round up the team to pitch in. Tink end up rounding up all of himself, but he shows up to help put just the same. And he impresses Luke's dad with how much Luke is valued at E. Dillon. Of course, it can't all be happy, EVER, which means Luke injured his leg on a fence post out in the cattle pen.
Coach has officially announced Vince as the Lions' new QB, but the afterglow doesn't get to last long as the cops show up and search Vince's locker for a gun. They don't find anything, but Coach is feeling guilty for both not trying to protect his player and for wondering whether Vince does have a gun stashed somewhere. He asks the kid straight-up, and Vince says no, but after getting a visit from Vince's still-cleaned-up mom, Coach decides to pay that guilt forward, telling Vince he needs to make a choice, between life of crime and football/responsibility. Vince makes late night call on Coach and hands over gun in paper sack. "That kid trusts me," Coach tells Tami that night.
The Riggins Bros. are trying to scrounge up change in the drive-thru at Whataburger when Mindy goes into premature labor. The doc prescribes bedrest for two months, 'til baby is born, which Billy can't afford. But the alternative is jank home remedies, so he and stripper Hannah organize a lapdance-a-thon fundraiser/world's trashiest Jack-and-Jill baby shower. In between motorboating for a good cause, that East Dillon player with cornrows whose name I don't know offers Billy a "business opportunity." Damn it, Billy.
Speaking of Tim-adjacent people who drive you crazy, Becky sets herself for a world of disappointment when her shiftless dad rolls in on his big rig, buys her a dog, and neglects to tell her about his secret Seattle family whom he's also struggling to support. He tells Tim, though, and after Becky shows up at the strip-raiser and acts out, he tells her. She flounces, and Deadbeat and Tim get into a fistfight about it later, which, since Tim has been re-living his own absentee dad drama all episode, is pretty cathartic. At episode's end Tim buys back the dog (Alicia Witt demanded Becky return it) and takes it out to an open -- and for sale -- piece of farmland, which he looks upon like he might finally by ready to answer that "what do you want?" question with something other than "Lyla."
Previously on Friday Night Lights: Becky's dad was a shiftless jerk and likely responsible for her being as needy and annoying as she is today; Jess slapped Landry for kissing her while still being hung up on Tyra; the Lions found an offensive spark by giving Vince the ball; and Matt Saracen left town.
Now, Tami is staking out Julie's bedroom in the early morning hours, checking to see if she's still crying her little eyes out. Matt hasn't called her yet, it sounds like. Coach wanders by and says he'll call, then offers to make Tami coffee. Tami's totally busted when Julie finally does emerge from her room. She's not crying, just dazed and surly and sleepy. She's either all cried out or she has not yet begun to cry.
At the Cafferty ranch, Luke and his parents try to rustle their giant herd of cattle into a pen. Ma and Pa Cafferty talk to their son about the "cow rustlers" who have been poaching their cattle as of late. "What kind of idiot would want to steal cows?" complains Luke, clearly annoyed at having to be up, in the mud, doing cow work. "This sucks," he follows. "Don't say sucks," Ma admonishes. "Have a vocabulary." This is how you get raised to apologize to Tami Taylor for lying to her face just then. Though I feel for Luke, having his semi-vulgar impulses stifled like this. Anyway, Pa tells Luke to plan on missing school this week to help get their fence fixed. Luke protests that if he doesn't go to school they won't let him practice. But Pa can't afford to hire anybody. God, the number of different ways this show finds to define the American experience as being well and truly fucked is astounding. Poor Luke.
Tami turns the corner into the West Dillon office to hushed murmuring. What's the deal? Well as Glenn -- Glenn! -- tells her, West Dillon has won a blue ribbon award for academic excellence! Actually, as Glenn tells it, it was Tami who won the award for the school. I swear to you people, as I was making my notes on my first viewing, I jotted down "Now who is this brown-noser trying to be Tami's new Glenn?" But it IS Glenn! It's been a while since we've all derisively spit out your name, Glenn. Anyway, Tami is just pleased as punch, and she does that thing where her voice goes up to soprano when she is just so pleased, y'all!.
Ugh. Becky. So her deadbeat dad rolls up in a big rig with no payload on the back, which means it's now just 18 wheels full of metaphors. Becky's jumping out of her skin to see her daddy, of course, because girls like her will never stop romanticizing dads like him. She runs out and hugs him, and he's got a teddy bear for her (of course) and is amazed at how grown up she's gotten, so Lord knows the last time he's even seen her. Cheryl comes out of the house all business, telling her ex that she's rented out the Airstream so he'll have to sleep in the guest room, then sweeps Becky off to drive her to school. Becky makes snotty "isn't she the worst?" faces to Deadbeat but still goes off with her mom. As they drive off, Tim emerges from his gleaming silver tube of sex and sloth. Deadbeat is immediately and obviously threatened, as anyone rightly would be. Tim introduces himself but Deadbeat doesn't, meaning that nickname's gonna stick all episode.
East Dillon. Coach calls the teams in for a little pep talk, though I'm momentarily distracted by the kid wearing glasses. How exactly does THAT work? Do they even fit under your helmet? Anyway. Coach is singing a slightly different tune this week, as there's no more "A"s for effort. They're gonna win this week! And he says they're going to switch things up too, tossing a red jersey at Vince. Now, since it is my understanding that nobody who watches Friday Night Lights actually watches football, I should mention that the red (or yellow, or whatever color) jersey is worn by the quarterback in order to distinguish him from everybody else, so he won't get hit in practice. Coach tells the team they have all of 30 second to get their licks in on Vince before he officially becomes the new QB. And there is much boyish roughhousing! Watch out, kid with glasses!
Credits. Which still, four seasons in, give me chills.
East Dillon High. Julie is at the activities corkboard, attacking each and every signup sheet with the verve that only an agitated Taylor woman can. Landry happens by and wonders why she's doing such a thing, particularly signing up for the book club when it's Twilight month. Of course, Landry knows why. As he reminds Julie, Matt was also his best friend. Julie is not even close to wanting to talk about it, though, so she just chirps to Landry that she signed him up for Academic Smackdown as well. Landry, gettin' done to once again. (By the way, let's just get it out of our systems that Landry couldn't possibly attend football practice AND after-school quiz bowl practices; logistics are fun and all, but wouldn't you rather watch him try to corral Julie and answer trivia questions than practice his punting? Me too.)
Coach is haggling with someone on the phone over issues to do with him being cash-strapped when Luke shows up in street clothes. Coach wants to know why he was absent today, and Luke tells him about his dad keeping him home for fence-mending. Adorably, and in such a realistic observation, Luke is now arguing his dad's point, telling Coach they don't have the money to hire anyone to do it. Isn't that always the way? You argue with Dad at home, but out in the world you adopt his reasoning? Anyway, this is one of those times where Coach has to stand in for the harsh, unsympathetic world (as opposed to the other times when he's standing in for Your Dad), so he lays it down for Luke: no school, means no practice, means no game. He can fix his fence in the middle of the night for all he cares, but he will make it to school and to practice. Luke is too beaten down to even "yes, sir."
Hey, guess who's clogging up the drive-thru lane at the Whataburger, digging through the seat cushions for change? No, not the Riggins brothers. It's the Riggins brothers and Ole Sis. (Props to Drunken Bee for the "Ole Sis" nickname that still makes me laugh.) So Tim digs and makes excuses (if only some starry-eyed high school girl were working that window, he'd be home free), and Billy screams at the honking cars, when Mindy starts yelping. And not her usual "Damn it, Billy!" yelping. These are contractions. "You're seven months pregnant," Billy says, telling her she's not experiencing contractions. But she's sure experiencing something. So they abandon their triple meat-n-cheesers (which would have induced labor anyway, so six of one) and drive off to the hospital.
Back at East Dillon, Landry mumble-whines to a hostile Julie about the kind of nerds who do Academic Smackdown, so of course he rounds the corner and finds Jess in the classroom, being beautifully intense about some question or another. He tries to talk his way out of this being incredibly awkward, but Jess is not about to be charmed. The principal enters with packets for this week's meet against -- who else? -- West Dillon. "Our blue-ribbon sister school," the principal says, with no small amount of little-brotherish envy. Man, whoever made the Academic Smackdown schedule did not have an eye for saving the big drama until sweeps.
Dog shelter. Becky and Deadbeat. Oh, you guys, NO. As if Becky and her storylines aren't awful enough. They have to take a poor dog down with them? So Deadbeat is just about squealing with delight about how Becky's mom is gonna HATE this, which is always the perfect motivation for entrusting your flaky daughter with a living thing to care for. Becky assures her dad she's up for it, though, plus she gets really lonely when her mom's at work. She uses that to segue into the "Daddy, come home" speech, which of course terrifies Deadbeat like it's the chupacabra. His voice says "I'm workin' on it," but his face says "What time do I have to wake up to get on the road without her noticing?"
In the Lions' locker room, the coaches are challenging Vince to a sit-ups drill of whatever the hell, when the principal shows up with a pair of cops. They stride into Coach's office and say they need to speak to Vince Howard. There was a report that he had a gun on school property, and they need to search his locker. Coach starts to make with the questions -- like, for instance, who made this accusation and on what grounds? -- but the principal cuts him off, like "Hey, man, it's the police. They say, we do." Coach directs them to Vince's locker but pointedly stays across the room. He feels weird enough letting this happen, much less participating in it. At this point, Vince is up on his feet, watching with interest but not saying a word. The cops rustle through his shit -- at this point the whole team is up and staring at this ... violation? Depends on who you ask. Don't ask me and don't ask Coach Taylor. The cops come up empty and pronounce Vince's locker "clean." Vince and Coach share a look, and if Coach's hair weren't constricted by a ball cap, it would be shuffling its roots all uncomfortable-like.
After the break, we return to the Cafferty ranch, where Pa and Luke are pounding in fence-posts, possibly with their bare fists, because it seems increasingly likely that the Caffertys would find modern tools to be Of the Devil. When Luke grabs his coat and starts heading off, his dad is dismayed to hear that Luke is going to school. Luke gets very aggressively-pleading, which is like his trademark (see his attempts to bargain with Tami over redistricting). He says he'll work 'til midnight on the fence, he'll wake up at dawn, but he cannot miss practice. He stomps off, and his dad calls after him, no doubt wondering why they didn't just home school him after all.
At the hospital, the doctor explains Mindy's premature label to Billy, which ... look, I love Billy Riggins, but I would think if you were put to the task, you'd have to put "explain X to Billy Riggins" in your calendar, and it would take up a lot of blocks. Doc says Mindy has to take magnesium sulfate, and she'll have to be on bedrest for the balance of her pregnancy. Hilarious and brief shot of Mindy's face on that, as she screws up her mouth to suppress a smile. Bedrest! KA-CHING! Billy assures her that he and Tim are going to take care of everything (yikes). He then chases down the doctor out in the hallway and explains that they don't have insurance, and this hospital stay is looking expensive. The doctor is sympathetic to a point. I mean, how sympathetic does "it costs what it costs" really sound? He says Billy could take Mindy home, rest her on her side, and keep her hydrated, that all "might" work. Wow, the solution for the uninsured in this country is bleak. DIY Obstetrics does not sound like something you'd want to try, particularly with this trio handling the execution.
The Taylors dine out, which for some reason I find adorable, particularly the shots of Julie looking utterly superfluous. Ahh, the intersection of public mortification and a free meal. Coach is still conflicted about the locker search, and Tami, as ever, is talking him through it. She asks what he would have done if the cops had wanted to search, say, Landry's locker; Coach doesn't know. Tami's second pointed and insightful question is whether Coach thinks Vince really does have a gun. He certainly doesn't know THAT. "Seems like you oughta just ask him," she says, eyes barely lifting off the menu. That is some vintage Tami. "Seems like you oughta" needs to go on the plaque that will one day adorn some hallway in Dillon, commemorating Tami's awesomeness (hey, don't think Glenn's not already on it). That or "Come on, y'all..." Anyway, Tami says there's no way Vince is going to be able to trust Eric is if Eric trusts Vince.
Smackdown. Julie is a predictable house afire as she, Landry, Jess, and some poor son of a bitch practice in the library. I say Poor SOB because the guy misses the Battle of Stalingrad by a year and is thus subjected to a screechy tirade from Julie about "WRRRRONNNG" and not being able to handle the pressure of...a half-full auditorium populated mostly by teachers? Landry yanks her off to the side and tells her to chill. He knows she's in a lot of pain and all. Julie cuts him off and says it's NOT about Matt. You can tell because of how crazy she gets when he says it is. She just wants to do well at the Smackdown! Climb off her back! What would Landry do if he wasn't getting yelled at? If he was actually able to relax and chill out for a minute. ...Oh, right, when that happens, he kills people.
Coach spots Vince at his recently-violated locker and calls him into the office. This secret word for this week's installment of Coach Chat is "gun." Does Vince have one? Does he own one? In his locker, on the premises, otherwise, whatever. "Gun. You got one?" Coach points out that he's asking Vince "straight-up," which he clearly hopes will earn him some points. Vince goes through a whole lotta thinking in a relatively brief close-up, and says "Nah, I ain't got no gun." Coach looks him back right in the eye and says that's all he wanted to know.
Tim's in the Airstream, listening to Deadbeat talk to either his girlfriend or his wife on the phone. Whoever it is, the word "midwife" is uttered, so we know some things now. Like how, first of all, it must've taken some kind of crunchy broad to make a guy from Dillon say "midwife" without spitting. Anyway, Tim hops out of the trailer and into superhero mode. I'm kinda with Drunken Bee on the Tim issue. It's not all that interesting to see him become such a generic white knight. But whatever, because check out this game of male misdirection. Tim, trying to nail Deadbeat, asks if that's "trouble back home" on the phone. Deadbeat, knowing he's been nailed, changed the subject to how Tim was "supposedly some big football star." With some sense of experience, he says it fades soon enough, that glory. "You're not married, are you?" he asks Tim, who says he's not. "Don't ever get married, don't ever have kids." Normally, this is pretty safe and typical Guy Talk for Deadbeat. But Tim jumps on it: "You don't like your kids?" Deadbeat stresses that he loves hid kids, but it never ends. Tim asks about the phone call. Deadbeat says his girlfriend in Seattle (of course) is pregnant, and it's all a little much to handle, with the two families and all. "Yeah, you're spreading yourself pretty thin," Tim says, accusation disguised as commiseration. He asks if Becky knows about Seattle, and Deadbeat's like, "Oh ho ho, no!" He doesn't want her to, either. That whole exchange was pretty fascinating, as Deadbeat gave Tim all the rope he'll need to hang him, only he doesn't expect Tim will because of some nebulous Guy Code. On cue, Becky comes wailing out of the house, chased by Cheryl. Of course they're fighting about the dog, and Cheryl rounds upon Deadbeat and starts berating him for it. Tim simply raises his face heavenward and seeks further instructions for how to save this poor family and thus get his wings.
Julie pulls up to Grandma Saracen's house, takes about sixteen deep breaths, then knocks on the door. Grandma is so happy to see her, it breaks your heart. Shelby's pretty glad to see her too. But Shelby knows what else is happening here too. How sad it all is beneath the surface. The three women sit around the kitchen table, and Julie projects like a champ, asking Lorraine if it must've been hard on her after Matt left. Lorraine, oblivious as you please, is all, "Oh my yes, it was. I was sick about it, at least until he finally called." Aimee Teegarden's face just breaks apart at that moment in the most amazing way. How her bones and her muscles and her hair and her mouth are crying but her eyes aren't is a modern marvel of science. She's like, "Matt called?" Lorraine's like, "Yep! Called again today, the darling boy, saying he got the place. I'm sure you've heard." Julie fronts like crazy, all "Oh yes, clearly." Shelby sees it. When Lorraine gets up to get ice cream sandwiches (perfect!), Shelby leans in to Julie and whispers that Matt's just going through a hard time. "He'll call. He'll be in touch soon." Julie nods silently, and it's a lovely and kind gesture on Shelby's part, but Julie doesn't believe it for a second.
Landing Strip! Landing Strip! Let the record show that I will never again be so happy to be at a strip club. So Tami and Julie are planning out Julie's upcoming college visits. ...No, come on, totally not. This is Riggins time! The brothers are trying to solve their money woes, since Riggins Rigs isn't the cash cow they thought it'd be. It's quite the brain trust, as you'd imagine. The one thing they settle on is that they cannot get rid of Kit-Kat, as Tim says, "He's the face of Riggins Rigs." Billy: "I love that cow." In what I really hope is not a purposeful transition, we get Hannah, one of Mindy's stripper pals from way back. She and the other girls want to throw Mindy a shower. Well, kind of a shower/fundraiser type thing. The girls dance ("and whatnot"), the guys pay admission ("and whatnot"), Mindy and Billy wind up with their hospital bills paid and the body-glitterest bassinet you ever did see. One of the many reasons I love Hannah -- more than her bad Sally Bowles wig and more than her pink satin kimono -- is that she keeps saying "whatnot" like she just learned the word. Anyway, the guys know a good idea when it falls into their laps, they just don't know where they'd host the thing. I guess the owner of the Landing Strip is generous enough to lend his women out for the night but not generous enough to have it at his place. Tim suggests they have it at Riggins Rigs, a suggestion to which Billy reacts like Tim just invented a new law of thermodynamics. Billy's enthusiasm amuses me.
West Dillon. Tami and Glenn are going over required reading lists when Glenn asks if Tami's family celebrated her big achievement last night. Now, for all we know, Tami didn't even tell her family about the blue-ribbon thing, because she's humble like that but also because the sad reality is that Tami's awesomeness does sometimes take a back seat to Eric's firearm-based inner struggles and Julie's apocalyptic heartbreak. But she vamps for Glenn's sake, saying they had "sort of a celebration." Now, if you're Glenn, the only person on Earth who worships Tami Taylor more than we do, this just won't do. He insists that Tami take the proper time to bask in her accomplishments, and even though Tami keeps trying to deflect and make it "everyone's" accomplishment, Glenn nevertheless cooks up the idea of gathering up all the teachers for a faculty night out. At a karaoke bar. There isn't a thing in the world that's not improved by that sentence there, but think about all your high-school teachers going out and getting drunk and singing? Yeah. Tami throws her head back and laughs because she is delighted and terrified.
East Dillon (you can tell because the cafeteria looks like it's caged in). Luke is catching a nap at the lunch table. It honestly looks like he passed out in the middle of reaching for a Dorito. That's not dignified, y'all. You know who agrees with me is Tinker. Giant, lovable Tinker. He spots Luke and sits down across from him, waking him up. "Doing this whole drunk-out wino thing in the cafeteria ain't gonna get you nowhere with the ladies, dude." Tinker has a point. Luke explains about the fence and the late hours and how some idiot's been stealing all his family's cows. Tink offers to ask the team to come pitch in at the ranch some time. Luke's slightly incredulous that the guys would do that. Tink's optimistic, though. Luke thinks that's super and pulls up his bag of chips, which will be his pillow for the 10-15 minutes until the bells rings and this waking nightmare of a daily grind continues. Sorry, I'm getting melodramatic, but I'm having a low-sleep day myself and that chip bag of Luke's is looking awfully inviting.
Coach is in the locker room when Regina, Vince's mom, shows up. She's miraculously still sober, and she wants to thank Coach for making Vince QB. She talks about the change she sees in him now -- "He's like a kid again." Oh, man. At all of...what, fifteen? Sixteen? To have seen that light go out of your kid's eyes so long before now -- to know that it was probably you who caused it? Man. Anyway, Coach says the thing coaches say about how he didn't make Vince QB, he did the work and put himself there. Yeah, but Coach paved the way, and Regina knows that. "Thank you for believing in him," she says, while Coach's face reads a mixture of guilt and more guilt for having done no such thing the other day at the lockers. Mom guilt. Works every time.
Who are these middle-aged women hooting about "The Car Wash" and pumping their fists out of time with the beat? Oh, just your co-workers who you'll have to run into the day and look them in the eye. There are margaritas at the table, though, so maybe they've all decided to do the right thing and get blackout drunk so nobody remembers. Tami's high-pitched shriek of excitement/fibbing tells the Car Wash ladies they did a fabulous job. ...Oh, and then there are shots. Glenn ordered shots. And he wants to propose a toast. Of course. Does he quote some Ben Franklin Poor Richard truism or Mark Twain anecdote? God, how about "Here's to living single, seeing double, and sleeping triple"? No? No. Glenn wants to toast to the fabulousness of Tami, of course. We'd be hypocrites to blame him for it. The teachers join in with their own hollered thanks for being so great, and Glenn babbles on a smidge too long, but all in all it's a fine toast to "our fearless leader." Tami, naturally, sends that praise right back to all of them, because she's rubber and they're glue, and some people just can't accept compliments.
And then -- AND THEN -- Dillon's third-most-popular karaoke bar is treated to the growly song stylings of Glenn as he belts out "Don't You Forget About Me," and I could just about die. Tami is delighted in that wide-eyed, constantly-looking-to-everybody-else way that happens when you are SO GLAD it's not you making an ass of yourself to the tune of the Breakfast Club theme.
Outside -- where we see that this particular establishment is called "La Palapa," like, SHOUT OUT, DRUNKEN BEE! -- Tami and Glenn wait for cabs. Glenn thinks this was a totally fun night and "we should do it more often, we should do it all the time." Tami says he'll reconsider that in the morning when his head is pounding. "You're totally worth it," Glenn says. "I wanted you to have a good night." You guys, this is so Mike Yanagita, I can't even take it. You can see what's coming, right? Even when Tami gives him the "You're so sweet," the international signage for "Thanks, eunuch." A cab pulls up, and Glenn chivalrously offers it to Tami. Then -- like a slow-motion freight train -- they hug goodbye ... and he lingers too long ... and then he plants a kiss on her. Like, if you could even call it a kiss considering their lips touch for 0.0003 seconds before Tami snaps back and brings the italics: "Oh, Glenn!" And then, in maybe my favorite of many favorite moments this week, Tami looks at him and covers up an embarrassed laugh with a sympathetic frown, and just goes, "Oh. Oh." You guys, it's the nicest/harshest thing you ever saw. Glenn apologizes, and she says it's okay, and he's mortified, and she gets in the cab and puts us all out of our misery/delight.
The day, Coach shows up at Vince's apartment building, and Vince is of course immediately suspicious. Coach is undeterred and asks Vince if he wants to be QB. Because QB comes with a lot of responsibility. Decisions and leadership and what not. "A quarterback have got to be clear on what's got to be done," he says. "You've got to make a decision." Ahh, so we've taken a detour into metaphor, then, have we? Vince gets defensive and asks Coach why he seems to care so much. Isn't Vince just another interchangeable part in Coach's football machine? Would he even come by if Vince got hurt and couldn't play anymore. Jason Street could probably answer that question, but it's a fair one anyway. "This is my life," Vince says. He's lived here 10 years and seen three of his friends killed. "When I leave your practice, I'm the one looking over my shoulder hoping I don't get jumped, robbed, killed." Is this all a little boilerplate Boyz N the Hood? Sure. But a) truth is truth, and b) the way Michael B. Jordan delivers this, with a mix personal horror and fucked-up pride is really interesting. Nobody wants to bury three best friends. But at least it gives him a trump card with Coach. Eric stands his ground, though, and plays a trump of his own: One more run-in with the cops and he's going to Juvie. "Who puts food on the table then? Who pays the bills? Who's gonna take care of that if you're locked up." Vince looks down. That is some expert paying forward of maternal guilt, Coach Taylor. "I'm offering you everything I've got," Coach tells him. "This is not just about football." Vince walks away without giving an answer, and Coach begs him to think about what he just said.
West Dillon. Glenn is in the auditorium, testing the audio and practicing for the Academic Smackdown. Tami shows up and asks him how things are going. He tries to avoid even looking at her. Which is unnecessary -- the mere lack of effusive praise for her (admittedly awesome) hair is enough to telegraph that he's uncomfortable. "How are you feeling today?" Tami asks, a bit more pointedly. Glenn starts apologizing profusely, saying he feels like the world's biggest idiot. Tami says it's okay, but Glenn stresses that it is not. He goes on to say that he practically RAPED her with his MOUTH, which is both gross and hilarious, and Tammy seems to think so too. Glenn's having a crisis, though. How could he -- "Mister Liberal" (which: OF COURSE) -- do something so "Neanderthal, unevolved, caveman"? Tami tells him to take it easy on himself -- he planned such a nice evening for everyone, and they all had such a good time. "That last part...can't ever happen again, that's all." Seriously, does she have a handbook? "5001 Perfect Approaches to Interpersonal Conflict: Gesture and Tone Edition"?
Julie piles into the car and reaches down to pick up a book. She instead finds a mix CD that Matt made for her. Yeah, yeah, iPod playlist blah. Any boy worth his salt is going to know that mix CDs still have value, especially for use in the car. And Matt Saracen is more than worth his salt. Also, can you imagine the oceans of sad-boy bearded folk that boy put on that CD? Anyway, Julie's crushed. "Tunes for My Girl. Love, Matt." Ouch, you guys. She plays it anyway ("Fire" by Augustana -- less beardy, but I like them), and it takes us to East Dillon and Landry mooning over Jess.
As the song fades out, we're at the Smackdown, where Julie, Landry, Jess, and Don't Know Shit About Stalingrad have the eye of the tiger. Okay, Jess does enough for all of them. Julie, for all of her pregame ferocity, already looks like she's gonna cry. And that's even before the question about Thomas Wolfe's first and last novels, "both of which deal with the American theme of the Wanderer." Julie knows it and steps up to the podium. She's barely repeated the question and she's already breaking down. The answer? "Look Homeward, Angel and You Can't Go Home Again." Now, Drunken Bee would be all sorts of equipped to tell you why these two novels are best primed to rip Julie's heart out by the arteries, but all I can do is reflect on the titles and how Julie has totally lost it and is sobbing now, in front of the eleven people who decided to come watch Academic Smackdown on a Saturday. One of whom is Tami. Jess tells Julie they've got it covered if she wants to take a break. So Julie heads backstage, where she's met by her mom.
Julie collapses into Tami and tells her about how Matt called his grandma and his mom, but he can't call her? Not after three years together? Her face is still at the perfect midway point between child and adult, and right now it's all crumpling. She thought Matt was the one. "I am so tired of feeling like this," she wails. Tami, armed with the blessing and curse of experience, tells Julie that she'll survive this, and one day good things will start to happen again. It's a blessing because you know this and you can send dispatches from the other side. It's a curse because you can never climb back to Julie's side and know exactly how it feels to be her anymore. "One day you may look back and even this will not be such a bad thing." See? That's is utterly and miraculously true, and Julie cannot trust it for a second. But she can hug her mom anyway.
Cafferty Ranch. Luke and his Pa are fencing when Tinker comes ambling across the field like a stray beast. He's just massive, you guys. Turns out the team had "some party to go to," so it's just Tink. Tink, who gave up a party to come fence-mending with Luke. Football, you guys!
Oh, and speaking of You Can't Go Home Again, that night, Landry has for some reason driven out into the middle of a dark road so he can call Tyra and leave a breakup message on her voice mail. I get the voice mail part -- Adrianne Palicki had terrible movies like Legion to make and couldn't rock a cameo. As for the roadside ... ahh, it was the signpost they were supposed to meet at. And Tyra's not here. He does his Landry ramble as he asks the voice mail whether he's supposed to wait for her -- because if that's the case, he will; he'll wait like the guards at Buckingham Palace (I'm like 50% sure he said Beckham Palace, which is pretty much true, or it will be in 60 years) -- but he's not sure she's waiting for him. You know, given the total avoidance and all. I feel for Landry and all, but the rest of us can't have expected Tyra NOT to move on and conquer whatever thing lay before her. "I guess I kinda just answered my own question," he says, sadly. Do you think Landry would be having this conversation even without the voice-mail? Just all by himself in his car? Because I kind of do.
Oh right! "Some party to go to" = the Riggins Family Strip-a-ganza. Bless Tinker even more for turning this one down. Tim screams drunkenly while Billy babbles his thanks for everybody sticking dollars in thongs for the sake of his baby. But while Mindy and her pals open adorable baby gifts, Calvin -- that friend of Vince's with the cornrows and the gold chain -- pulls Billy aside. You know, to holla at him. He compliments him on Riggins Rigs, and says he's got a "business opportunity." A chance to make "some real money." Billy, being a most dangerous combination of stupid and desperate, is immediately interested. Calvin's just gonna have to holla at some other people before he can go into details. On the bright side, the bright, neon "BAD IDEA" sign right above Billy's head really makes some of these belly chains on the strippers sparkle.
Oh, even better: Becky's here. Girl, this is a Jack and Jill Stripper-Themed Baby Shower. It is no place for a teenage girl. Certainly not one as annoying as you. She rolls up on Tim, interrupting him as he's laying game down with on of Mindy's friends, and all of a sudden Tim's in dad mode instead of screaming tap-the-keg guy mode. Damn it, Becky. I try not to hate you and then: this. So she complains about her mom, saying she made her give back the dog and she's the total worst and she can't wait 'til her dad comes back. She then tries to slow-dance with Tim, but he figures it's time for some truth: her dad isn't coming back, on account of having to secure midwifery services for his secret family in Seattle. "This is what they do," Tim continues, in a rare moment of lucidity. "Your dad, my dad. They leave, and they don't come back. They buy you these things so it's not uncomfortable for the five minutes a year they're in your face." He could go on -- really -- but Becky's in tears now and wants to talk about this at home. Yeah, maybe tomorrow, when Tim's done skanking around Dillon's finest? Let the man live, girl.
It's midnight at the Cafferty ranch, and Luke, Pa, and Tinker are still hard at work. Out of Luke's earshot, Pa compliments Tink on his fence-building prowess and gives him a sincere thanks. "No big deal," Tink says. "Luke's a good guy. He's one of the players who's holding this team together." Luke's a star, but he doesn't act like it. He figures if he's helping out Luke, he's helping out the team. Pa's pretty impressed at this portrait being painted about his son -- and through football of all places. You get the feeling Pa Cafferty figured that life on the farm was the way he was going to raise his son to be the way Tinker's describing. "You're a good man," Pa says to Tink. Turning around to look at his son, it's clear the sentiment extends to him too.
Later, Deadbeat comes pounding on the Airstream door, furious at Tim for telling Becky the truth. HE wanted to tell her! Tim pretty much laughs that statement off right in Deadbeat's face. "You think you're hot stuff, don't you?" Deadbeat huffs. Hey, middle-aged losers of the world? When confronted with your younger, more muscled, shinier-haired rivals, try your best not to say "You think you're hot stuff, don't you?" Not only does it make you sound self-evidently inferior, it also makes you sound blazingly homosexual. Not that that's a dealbreaker -- it's Tim Riggins; no jury in the world would convict you -- but still. Food for thought. ANYWAY, Tim baits him by leaning in and telling him he had sex with his wife. Deadbeat falls for it, initiates a fight, and gets pummeled. The first couple of punches are for Deadbeat. The rest are for Tim's dad. Cathartic, I guess, but I don't need to see anybody beaten to death on this show. Not again, at least. Deadbeat'll be fine, though. He'll be interviewing midwives by Monday.
Elsewhere, Vince knocks on the Taylors' door and immediately apologizes to Mrs. Coach for coming by so late. Eric comes to the door and asks if Vince is all right. "I'm getting there," Vince says, then surreptitiously hands over a plain paper bag. He apologizes again -- for coming by so late, see -- and Coach reaches out and shakes his hand. Vince takes off.
After a commercial break, the Taylors sit around the kitchen table, the morning, and stare at the paper bag like it's about to shoot them in the face. Which...okay, even though it's a gun, still probably not. "That kid trusts me," Eric intones. Tami asks what he's going to do with the gun. "Get rid of it," Coach says. Tami thinks it's been a strange week. Y'all, she doesn't even know about the exotic dancer baby shower.
Becky stands on her porch and cries as Deadbeat tries not to look too guilty for leaving her again. He can't quite pull it off. Becky hugs her mom, which is nice consolation after calling her the worst for three days. Meanwhile, Tim Riggins continues to be Santa Claus to Dillon's wayward souls. Sexy, sexy Santa Claus. He strides into the pet store like he owns the place and asks after a dog that a "disgruntled redhead" returned yesterday. The lady at the counter gives him a hard time about not returning the thing tomorrow and being responsible. "Are you gonna be a responsible person?" she asks him. "Yes, ma'am," says Tim.
Cafferty Ranch. With the fence fixed, it's time to go all Temple Grandin on them cows and round 'em up. Luke hops up and throws one leg over the fence into the cattle pen, but the gate swings open and pins his leg to a fence post. Which would hurt enough, but then a couple of the cows get spooked, and they bump into the gate, smashing Luke's leg even harder into the fence. Ma and Pa Cafferty spring over to Luke and pulls him to the safe side of the fence, but his leg is pretty clearly hurting.
Elsewhere, Jess is getting in a morning shift at the BBQ joint when Landry strides in, all pleased as punch with himself because he broke up with his girlfriend. She's still kinda not talking to him, so he tries to sweet-talk her by asking for a delicious pulled pork sandwich and mentioning that things with him and Tyra are 100% over. He'd like to take Jess out on a date. She's super wary, so Landry makes the best case for himself: he's got a car, he's got a guitar, and he might end up writing her a song. Honestly, Landry's a spazz, but that's a pretty excellent pitch. Jess's huge smile seems to agree.
Finally, Tim Riggins drives home with his brand new dog, and if you're the kind of person who finds that flowy-haired, mealy-mouthed, just-outta-high-school chiseled sex gods manage to look even sexier while trying to hold a conversation with a dog, well, this is the scene for you. Tim re-christens the dog "Skeeter" (his old name, "Julian," is deemed boring). Tim pulls up to a field and lets Skeeter out, for fear that he'll skeet-skeet-skeet all over the seat-seat-seat. Ew, I am sorry for that. Anyway, Skeet runs around the field a bit, which gives Tim a chance to really survey the land. "It's pretty great," he says to himself, as the camera pans across the for-sale sign. And: seriously. Just think how many Airstream trailers he could fit on that land. Looks like Tim's got himself a taste for the American Dream now, y'all. And if I know this show, I know that he'll come heartbreakingly close to getting it before being crushed on life's windshield. But let's not burden Tim's mind with such thoughts. Just watch his hair flow in the breeze.
Joe R thinks guys as hot as Riggins shouldn't be allowed to own dogs because it's just not fair to the rest of us. He can be reached for lavish praise and nothing but at joseph.reid21@gmail.com.
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