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Would you like to hear the most frightening, horrible words in the life of a TWoP recapper? They are "Limited Commercial Interruption." It's enough to bring tears to my eyes. Why, NBC? WHY?
So, here we are at the premiere of "Parenthood," a television show based on a movie released 21 years ago. An iconic and memorable film, to be sure, but I mean, Road House was also a huge movie in 1989. I'm just saying. [It's also the second attempt at a show based on the film, while Road House has bupkus. Gyp! - Zach]
Sarah (played by my beloved Lauren Graham) is moving from Fresno back to her hometown with her two surly teenagers, Amber and Drew, to live near her family. This family includes her overwrought brother, Adam, and his own family, made up of his wife, daughter and supersensitive son, Max. Also on deck is another brother, Crosby, who is single and gross, and sister, Julia, who is married and successful. The cherry on top is their pushy father, who mysteriously keeps condoms in his desk drawer and thus, may be cheating on their sweet mom.
Adam's son, Max, has trouble dealing with his emotions. He hates playing baseball, but upon being forced by his father to play, he gets a surprising hit. When he is called out by the umpire, his father comes to his defense loudly and aggressively. When Max, who insists on wearing a pirate costume to school, has trouble using scissors in class and is taunted by a classmate, he lashes out aggressively. After being evaluated by his school, it appears Max may have Asperger's Syndrome.
Adam's daughter, Haddie, makes the serious mistake of inviting her cousin, Amber, to hang out. Much to Sarah's shame, the girls end up at the police station, arrested for pot possession. Sarah must follow up this embarrassing revelation with a blind date, arranged by Julia, with an ex who is now a dumpy, bald barista (and ends up being awesome). Sarah has a surprisingly great time, until she is busted by her son while she is trying to get busy with the barista. This causes Drew to run away back to Fresno to see his drug-addict musician father.
Meanwhile, Crosby, who is an idiot, is struggling to make a commitment to his equally dumb girlfriend who wants so badly to have a baby, she keeps Harvard sperm in her freezer, and yet is somehow held off from her plans to do so by Crosby's vague promises to maybe marry her sometime, maybe in three years or something, whatever. Turns out, Crosby already has a kid -- one that he did not know about -- with a dancer he used to know.
Y'all, just when I thought I was going to hate this show, it hooked me so hard my head spun around. Max returns to the hated baseball field, determined to support his team, and overly sentimental premise or not, I fell for it. Maybe it was the Dylan soundtrack. Maybe it was Lorelei Gilmore, back on my TV. Maybe it was the kid who plays Max who is illegally cute. Or maybe it's that five months ago my husband and I adopted our wonderful daughter, careening into parenthood, ourselves. Great. Now I'm crying again.
Discuss this episode in our forums, then see why vlogger Sean Crespo thinks this show is a bad idea.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!So, Internet... how's it going? When last we met, I was your innocent recapper-about-town, blithely roaming to and fro, getting laid off from my full-time job, having a somewhat laissez-faire attitude about the whole thing. Yes, back then I spent my days cleaning my house and watching Magnum, P.I. reruns, applying for jobs half-assedly, just knowing that eventually someone would call me and my life would get back to a normal, non-Ramen-eating pattern. Guess what? No one called! Oh, except our adoption agency that was like, "You have two minutes to fly to Texas and pick up your daughter." Which we did, in October, and now I am a parent, still jobless. That's just to get you up to speed, people. I mean, if you are remembering me from the salad days of Deadwood and Gilmore Girls recaps, what I'm saying is: things have changed. Thus, it was with a little bit of the ironic smirk that I took this assignment mere moments after entering the state of parenthood. I'll tell you in advance, I have never cried so much in my lifetime, combined, as I do now on an average weekday. Not from sadness -- just from feelings. I am like a walking, talking Barbara Streisand album over here with all the feelings. And I'm not trying to be stupid about it, like, "You'll never know real love until you have a child," or whatever. No. What you'll never know until then is real anxiety. I'll wait here while you rush off to get pregnant...
Our new show opens with a little old-fashioned sponsor smooching. Lauren Graham and Peter Krause welcome us with the most emotional appeal to buy a Nissan one could ever hear. What is the deal with this? Have we gone back in time to the days of the Texaco Star Theater? I get the feeling Lauren G. is not into it. Also, did y'all know "Krause" was pronounced "Kr-OW-suh," like it's Germany up in here? I've been reading it "Krauss" for years. Good for you, Krauses, for keeping it real.
Finally, we see Peter Krause, who plays Adam Braverman, jogging through his neighborhood. Clearly, he started this jog feeling positive and with the best of intentions, and you can't beat the Avett Brothers' "Heart Like a Kick Drum" as a running song... until your heart actually starts beating like a kick drum and you have to sit down or pass out. Luckily, he has brought his phone along so that he can be available to his sister, Sarah (Lauren Graham), in her time of need. "I lost Amber," she says, when he wheezes hello. "She fled; she escaped; she snuck right out of the window." Ah, now, here's the L.G. I so fondly remember. Why use a few words by way of explanation when you can use a zillion instead? All her chatter, however, gives Adam a chance to catch his breath. "Are you having a heart attack?" she asks him. "You're like, wheezing like an old person." He must have oxygen deprivation to the brain, because his big suggestion as she stands amidst her belongings being packed up to move, worrying about her teenager daughter who has disappeared, is that she needs to... find her daughter. Sarah is incredulous. "Here I am, moving our entire situation, just to make her life better," she says. "And what do I get?" During this she tries and fails to get her teenage son, Drew, to turn down his video game. Can we talk about how dead I'd be if I tried to play a video game while my mom was packing up a house? I'd be ghostwriting this, for real, as a ghost from beyond the grave.
"I'm doing the right thing, right, Adam?" she asks. "Moving home?" He assures her, through wheezes, that yes, she moving from Fresno back to their hometown of Berkeley is the best decision. She Loreleis him at top speed, just to be sure: "I mean, you said it was gonna be good, which is essentially why I'm doing it, because you said it was gonna be good, so if it isn't good, I don't think I'll ever forgive you." Adam sighs. "Look, if it's not good, you can blame me, okay?" Sarah: "That's what I'm saying." This desperation is interrupted by desperation of a decidedly different nature. Adam switches over to a call from his dad (Craig T. Nelson!), who announces that his pipes are clogged. Trust me, this is not the call you want to get from an old man. "I need you here right now," he says, "I'm not even getting a belch."
Back in Fresno, Sarah has tracked down her daughter to the nasty apartment of some skeevy boy all covered in lame tattoos and wearing skinny jeans. Amber comes stomping through the room, high and mighty, as if she does not sense danger. "You need to get in the car with me right now," Sarah tells her. "Look," Amber sasses back, "Berkeley is a living hell, Mom. I am not moving there." She says she and Damian, the skeeze in question, have decided to live together, instead. "Damian," Sarah says, cold as ice, "I need to speak with my daughter, could you give us a moment? Perhaps you could use this time to put on a shirt." Snap. Amber tells him to stay right where he is. "Do not let her scare you," she commands, with extra sass, "her bark is worse than her bite." Dudes. I'm telling you, you'd have to have a séance to read this recap, that's how dead I would be. Much to my surprise and deep, deep happiness, what follows is the most truthful, scary, awesome moment of television I can ever remember seeing. Without saying a word, Sarah fixes her daughter with the glare of doom. Amber has one split-second to realize her fate before her mom lunges at her like a crazed panther. Beautiful. I had to rewind it 20 times. Moments later Amber is being dragged away from Damian's, claiming that her life is being ruined. Sarah says they have no choice, she's out of money. "Get in the car," she says, pounding on the roof of their hoopty as Amber turns to take one last look at the ridiculous Damian who is leaning out of his skeezy window, still shirtless, holding a guitar. Note to self: when child is a teenager, send her to wolves for raising.
At his dad's, Adam is under the house, wielding a pipe snake. So many moments of this pilot resonated with me, and this was no different. Y'all, recently I had to auger a toilet. NO! Let us speak of it no more. My God, the nightmares I am still having. Why did I bring it up?! I will now take yet another boiling shower, hoping to one day be clean again. Dear ol' Dad (whose name, according to IMDb, is improbably spelled "Zeek,") lays on the ground chatting to him about Adam's son Max's upcoming baseball game. "I'm gonna be there with bells on," Zeek says. Adam, still prone on the ground, says that yeah, the thing is, Max is a nervous kid and Zeek seems to be making him even more nervous about the game. "Well, you were sensitive, too," Zeek tells Adam. "And I cured you." Ugh. Adam tells him that if he is going to come to the game, he needs to be calm. "It's important that Max feels a... calmness," he says, and takes another phone call while Zeek shakes his head, obviously not on board with this calmness thing. This time it's Adam's wife, Kristina (the supercute Monica Potter). She has some unsurprising news to report about the game: Max refuses to put on his uniform and does not want to go. "The game's in an hour, Kristina," Adam says, clearly frustrated. "He has to go, I'm the coach." Kristina: "I don't know what to tell ya, it's a non-starter." Adam, still under the house, pipe-snake in hand, has to take a deep breath. I feel for the man. If this was real, the noxious fumes he just breathed in would have caused instant blindness. "I'll be right over," he says, and hangs up. Immediately, Zeek starts hassling him. How someone could withstand hassling from a man for whom you are doing the ultimate dirty job, I don't know, and while Zeek harasses him about hurrying up with the pipe so that he can rush home and force his son to play baseball, the pipe becomes more than metaphorical, dumping the shit of the whole family right onto Adam's shoulders.
I pray to God he has showered by the time he goes to speak with his son, who is drowning his sorrows with a major Lego binge. Adam sweetly assures Max that he doesn't have to play baseball after this season, but that he wants him to give it a chance, "because it meant a lot to me when I was a kid." Um, spurious reasoning, at best. When this self-centered tug at the heartstrings unsurprisingly fails, he looks over his shoulder to make sure Kristina isn't listening, and brings out the big guns. "All right, after the game, why don't we go have some ice cream?" he says to Max, who has not looked at him a single time. "Double scoop. And when I say double scoop, what I really mean is triple scoop." Bingo.
In the laundry room, Kristina folds clothes while her teenage daughter, Haddie, wonders why they just don't let Max stay home. "I mean," she says, "do we even care about baseball?" Kristina sighs. "Your father sure does. Because men feel the need to express their love through hitting balls, slapping butts and spouting meaningless statistics." She says she thinks that Adam is afraid that if Max doesn't learn to do these things, he's going to grow up sad and alone. "Well," Haddie says, putting it simply, "that's absurd." As they rush to the car, Max in uniform, Kristina asks how Adam made this happen. He is forced to admit the triple scoop bribe. "Great parenting," she sighs. Adam, on the other hand, is sanguine. "Once [Max] gets his first hit," he says, "everything is gonna turn around for him." Poor Max. Why are they having this conversation in front of him?
Elsewhere, a phone rings as a dude climbs clumsily over his sleeping, naked girlfriend to answer it. This is Crosby, Adam's younger brother, and his ne'er-do-well status is evident from his first onscreen moment. You know, tattoos, annoyingly floppy hair, shirtlessness, what appears to be a bed in the living room, etc. Apparently he is also supposed to be at the game, as he is the assistant coach. "It's the third inning," Adam seethes. "Where the hell are you? Dad's out of control." Indeed, Zeek is behind the fence, yelling at the kids like they are big leaguers. Meanwhile, Crosby is still trying to wake up. "I can't talk right now," he half-whispers. Adam asks if he's with someone. "Are you back with Katy?" he asks. "Did you have make-up sex?" Hey, coach, there's a first grader three feet from you in the on-deck circle. "Oh, come on, that is pathetic," Crosby says, though it appears to be right on the money. Adam tells him to get there, now, as the team is getting its ass handed to them, and Crosby hangs up and stumbles to the kitchen. In his search for coffee he finds something even more stimulating, or I should say "stimulated," on offer in the freezer. Sperm. Specifically, frozen sperm in a canister with his girlfriend's name on it. He replaces it, gingerly, and heads for the game.
At an amusement park, the last member of the Braverman clan, Julia, is on the phone with her law office. Her cute husband, Joel, comes up to remind her that they are in a cell-free zone, and that their daughter, Sydney, has been waiting all week to have her picture made at Fairyland. I'd like to point out that to come over and have this conversation, Joel left their pre-schooler in the arms of a giant cat with a pink mohawk and an airbrushed t-shirt reading "Sandy." Y'all, safety first, even at Fairyland. Julia somewhat reluctantly puts her phone on vibrate, instead of turning it off, and goes over to be photographed with her daughter where, of course, her phone immediately vibrates. "One second," she tells the photographer through a forced grin, and steps out of the picture with her disappointed daughter. "Come on," Joel says, as Julia stares at her phone, "be strong. You can do it." Somehow, she forces herself to turn the phone off and they return for a happy photo. The subtext of this storyline is, of course, "You can't have it all." I am already depressed by it.
Things are tense at the ball field. The Mustangs are down by seven and Poor Max is up to bat. I promise I'm not going to call him Poor Max the whole season... but the kid is ridiculously cute and sad and I can't help it. "Oh, God," one of these bad-news Mustangs says in the dugout, "Max is up." Adam sighs. "Hey, not cool," he tells the kid, but the saddest part is that he doesn't disagree with the sentiment. Adam goes into coaching mode, telling Max that this is not the time to swing at everything, that in this situation a walk is just as good as a hit. Coach-talk for "you're not capable, so don't mess it up for everyone else." Poor Max mumbles that someone else should bat, instead. He doesn't want to strike out and have everyone hate him. Adam sighs, seeing that he has been pushing him in the exact opposite way he intended. "It doesn't matter if you get a hit or not," Adam says, though it pains him to say it. "It's a game. It's all about having fun." And with perfect clarity, Max expresses what every little bookish kid in the world has wanted to say for generations: "I'm not having any fun." For lack of anything else to say, Adam tells him to try his best. The crowd starts cheering him on, but naturally Zeek goes overboard, screaming for him to "shove it down their throats!" Kristina has to ask him to "simmer," which I love. Crosby arrives at this moment to join in the chaos. He appears unshowered. "Did you see this kid pitch?" he asks Adam. "What, did they smuggle him in from the Dominican Republic or something?" Adam tells him to shut up just as, by some miracle, Max gets a ringing hit. "RUN, MAX! RUN!" Adam screams, and Max, never in his wildest dreams expecting this to happen, starts running the wrong way. Finally on the right path, he makes it to first base just as the ball gets there, also. The ump, obviously blind, calls him out. This sets off a beautiful Little League throwdown, in which Adam squares off against the umpire while the kids look on. I love it, not least because of Dylan's "Forever Young," that plays over it, but because kicking dirt on an umpire and throwing your hat on the ground is an American classic that never gets old. I know it's bad sportsmanship, but listen, baseball is an emotional game.
Can I renew my objection about the limited commercial interruptions? This is a theme I am really warming to. So much hate, people. I know it's better for the viewer, but have they no consideration for the intrepid recapper? Can I file workman's comp for carpal tunnel?
As the evening sun goes down, Sarah arrives at the family compound with her grouchy children in their beat-up hatchback. I was about to give them a slow clap because I thought for a moment this car was a 1979 Datsun 210, which would so perfectly tie-in the Nissan sponsorship, but it appears to be a Chevy Citation from a few years later. I know you really wanted to know that. What's silly about it, either way, is that having a car this old in 2010 would cost you more than having a new car. Zeek and Camille, the family matriarch (an unrecognizable Bonnie Bedelia) rush out the door to greet them. Amber, of course, rolls her eyes like a champ. Drew, much to Zeek's disappointment, gives a wussy handshake. "Geez, Drew!" his grandfather says, amazed that a teenaged boy would not know how to "shake hands like a man." Why are you shaking your grandson's hand, anyway?
Later, the whole clan gathers for an al fresco dinner and... this is a good time to bring up my main complaint about the show. There are too many damn people in it. I mean, are you even still reading this after the 2,800 words I just wrote to introduce everyone? The cameras can't even keep up with all the people at the table. The siblings give Adam some good-natured ribbing about the umpire confrontation, but Zeek says he's actually proud of his son for standing up "for justice" against a terrible call. "Dad, you're not helping," Adam half-laughs. Camille smoothes it over by asking if Adam's neck veins popped during the fight, and everyone laughs. At the end of the table, Julia's daughter Sydney asks her daddy to cut her meat. Julia, right to her, says she'll do it. But, no, Sydney wants Daddy to do it, because he does it better. Everyone at the table cringes as Sydney doles out the maternal rejection. Julia, embarrassed, has Joel cut the meat and turns her focus to Sarah, asking her what her plan is now that she's moved. Sarah takes huge umbrage to this seemingly innocent remark. "Well, I've been home an hour," she says, "so I don't have a job yet." Julia insists she was just asking a question, and Crosby raises his fork to declare himself Switzerland on the matter. "I don't want anything to do with this," he says, though no one asked him to have anything to do with anything, really. "Old war, here," he comments in an aside to all the kids at the table, bringing them up to speed on the competitive bitchiness of the sisters in question. Camille does her smoothing routine and asks Zeek to give a toast. He does, welcoming Amber, Drew and "my shining angel, Sarah." Is it weird that I just had sort of an emotional reaction about Lauren Graham getting to play the favorite daughter after so many years getting the shaft on Gilmore Girls? What? Right. Yes, I know they're not real people. It's hard for me to think of her as someone else now, though. They should have given L.G. a different haircut or something.
Later, Crosby and Adam play ping-pong as Joel looks. They discuss the frozen sperm situation. "So, you're saying you found sperm in her freezer?" Joel asks, incredulous. "Human sperm?" Naw, man. It's bird sperm. This woman plans to be the first to give birth to a human-cockatoo hybrid. Crosby says he guesses it's human, though he didn't send it to a lab. Adam is kind of outraged by the sperm and vigorously declares it uncool. "Can we just play ping-pong so I can lose myself in sport?" Crosby begs. Adam: "She slept with you with another man's sperm in her freezer! It's unconscionable! She has to be confronted." I tend to agree, though this problem feels so mid-'90s to me. I mean, sperm banks as TV jokes seem kind of passé. Anyway, there's no time to discuss it further, because we must all turn our attention to Zeek as he emotionally abuses Max in the driveway over yet another sport, basketball. Here is Zeek's problem as an athlete and, although it pains me to say it because this is Craig T. Nelson, a coach. The man has no finesse. He's yelling at Max to get in grills and kick various asses, etc., and while I wish Adam's response would be to encourage Max to indeed kick his grandpa's ass, he instead asks Zeek to take it down a notch. Which does not happen even remotely.
Inside, Haddie, who I guess is supposed to be 16 but looks older than her own mother, is helping Amber carry her bags up to the guest room. There seems to be no love lost between these cousins. Amber kind of unfeelingly asks if Max is still wearing a pirate costume to school. "Um," Haddie says. "We think he's working through that." Amber pulls out a pack of cigarettes, much to Haddie's apparent surprise. Actually, the look on her face is more like Amber just offered her coke to snort off a naked man. She makes an uncomfortable refusal and starts to leave. From the doorway, she turns to do what is obviously a duty her parents forced on her. "You know, if you wanted to come hang out with me and my friends after school -- I mean, we honestly don't do anything -- but, if you wanted to come hang out with us... you... could!" she says, trying and failing to sound enthusiastic. Amber is not feeling the family love. "Wow," she snarks. "Okay, wow. Really warm invitation. Thank you so much." Girl, be thankful anyone wants to speak to your snide ass. Also, wash your face. AND stop smoking. PLUS, you're grounded. I am a little bit anti-teen right now. I think it is because I am so afraid to parent one. I dread it, even though I have 13 years to prepare.
Downstairs, the family women have dessert and wine and feminine chat. Julia tells Sarah that she ran into an old flame of hers at a coffee shop downtown, Jim Kaczynski. "Kaczynski," Kristina says, in wonder. "The Unabomber?" While I love the idea of Sarah having dated the Unabomber, unfortch that was Ted Kaczynski. All the ladies agree that though she dated Jim 20 years ago and has not seen him since, she really needs a date. "I'm setting it up," Julia says. Sarah is reluctant, but asks what he looks like, now. "S-s-smokin' hot," Julia stutters unconvincingly
The door bursts open. To no one's surprise, really, Max has a bloody nose, administered by Grandpa's elbow. "He was in my zone," Zeek says, which is the first laugh I've had in about 10 minutes. Adam and Kristina get all maudlin, though honestly Max seems to be taking it in stride. "Your Grandpa's an idiot," Camille says as Adam goes to confront his dad. This is a weird scene. It seems ad-libbed and there are just too many dang PEOPLE milling around. Frankly, Peter Krause is kind of one-noting this whole show and I need him to step up if he's going to go toe-to-toe with Craig T. Because Coach is too good to have to play down. "The kid's got some height deficiencies," Zeek says when Adam asks why he had to go overboard with the basketball game. "We need to make him a ball-handler." You guys keep cracking down on him so hard, you'll make him a ball-handler all right. He'll be handling balls all over town, explaining to the Celebrity Rehab guy that the men in his life never understood him thus forcing him to seek out male approval in adulthood. Wow, did I take that too far? Definitely. I'm sorry. Listen, I'm desperate! It's been 17 minutes and nothing has happened!
Adam asks if his dad really finds it necessary to play with Max that hard. "You weren't any different," Zeek says. "You had to get over fears, too." Adam snaps that they aren't raising Max the way Zeek raised his own kids. Zeek asks what that's supposed to mean. "It means I don't want him to feel like everything in life is a war," Adam says. Zeek shakes his head. "Oh, Sonny," he says with a smug smile. "It is a war." [This was the point at which I realized they were all having dinner at a crazy man's house. - Zach]
Upstairs, the uprooted Amber and Drew are lounging in the guest room when Sarah comes in, flossing her teeth, to say good night. "Have you been smoking in here?" she fusses at Amber, who immediately snarks back that the tooth flossing pick her mom is using grosses her out. "How much longer do we have to share a room?" Drew cuts in, nervously. Sarah sighs that she is not sure. "That reminds me, Drew," Amber says. "If you feel the need to uh, release the tension, so to speak, if you could do it in the bathroom..." Sarah shudders and admonishes Amber, but Drew just wants to know if he can maybe move back to Fresno to live with his dad. Sarah gets a sad look on her face, but Amber has a more hardlined approach. "Yeah, that's a really good idea," she says. "Maybe you guys could share a drug dealer." In her best Lorelei voice, Sarah gives her the shut-up hand and a forceful "OH, my God." Drew says their dad has an extra bedroom, and they've kind of talked about it. Sarah seems surprised by this, but takes it easy with her son, who is obviously hurting. "I don't know, honey," she says. "Dad gets so busy and, what if he has to go out on tour...?" Drew mopes and asks if he can just talk to his dad about it. "Yeah, of course," Sarah says, trying to be cheerful. On the way out, though, she rips on Amber for smoking. "We are guests in this house," she says through clenched, freshly-flossed teeth. Amber: "Oh, I thought we lived here." Y'all, I would have smothered Amber years ago.
Sarah flops on the bed as we hear the strains of a gospel choir begin to ring out. At first, I thought the rest of the family had burst into hand-clapping praise song, but we're changing venues, here. It is a choir, being recorded in a studio where Crosby is working as a sound engineer. As he jives around tweaking knobs, which would never happen, the producer comes in and wonders if something might be a little off in the sopranos. The producer, by the way, is none other than Katie, from earlier in the day, she of the nakedness and spermsicles. He snits that no, nothing's wrong, "it's called a Major 7th chord, and it's fine." Katie wants to know why Crosby's being so testy. Here is the perfect moment for him to come back with "I don't know, why are YOU being so TESTES?" But he doesn't. He does, however, ask why she has sperm in her freezer. "Oh, I was wondering if you saw that," she says, uncomfortable. She says she doesn't want to even have this conversation again, that he knows she's ready to have a baby, and he's not. "You're not mature enough," she says. Crosby responds that he is not the one out scrounging up sperm from some guy. "I'm not scrounging it up," Katie says. "I bought it, for a lot. And I have to tell you, actually, it's is amazing sperm." She says the donor is an Olympic athlete and a Rhodes scholar. "Great," Crosby says. "It sounds like this sperm is going to be a great father so, maybe he can coach soccer for you, or whatever." Katie, as she exits the booth: "You're an idiot." She is right. Before she can go, he yells after her to ask when she's ovulating. "Friday!" she screams, and is gone. I have multiple problems with this scene, both musical and reproductive, but I'm going to let them slide. Yes, it's a new outlook I have. Sliding. If the show makes it past three episodes, I will perhaps revisit this foolishness.
At his school, The Dread Pirate Max is working on some crafts. Brother has a problem using scissors, apparently, and becomes overly frustrated with the job, wadding up paper and throwing it around. When a punk-ass classmate, the improbably named Amos [Amos? Zeek? What's , Jedediah? - Z], calls him a freak, Max goes buck wild on the kid, throwing himself on him and biting. Y'all, the frustration this little boy actor is able to show as Max... he outshines the rest of the cast just in this little scene. Moments later we see his parents, Adam and Kristina, in a meeting with school officials. "He must have been taunted," Adam says, defensive. He says he thinks everyone might be overreacting and that if someone (Kristina) did not constantly indulge Max in the pirate costuming, then maybe... Kristina cuts in that she thought they had agreed to "monitor the pirate situation," and the parental line of defense breaks down. The principal -- or whoever he is, the dude is not wearing a tie -- says that the thing is, they're not sure if Sullivan Elementary is the right fit for Max. Adam and Kristina are shocked. The guy goes on to say that he thinks that Max should be seen by an educational therapist to determine steps. "Let's just cut to the chase," Adam snaps. "Are we being expelled? Are you giving us the boot?" Kristina shushes him, but then worriedly asks, "Are we?"
That night, Sarah is in the garden looking at classified ads for apartments as her mom cuts flowers. Well, I'm glad to see Berkeley is still publishing a print newspaper... Though Camille assures her that she and the kids can stay at the house for however long they need, Sarah says she's going to cut out the ad, "on the slim chance we wear out our welcome." In what appears to be her father's workshop, she goes hunting for scissors in his desk. What she finds, instead, is a box of condoms. Confused, she casts a sad look out the window at her mom but has no time to consider the issue because her phone rings with news that her daughter and niece, Haddie, are being held at the police station.
When she arrives at the station, the look on her face is total perfection. The shame and humiliation of having to face Adam and Kristina -- Lauren Graham is just brilliant, shrinking into herself and trying to apologize. The girls have not been officially charged with anything, which is a relief, but still, Sarah is mortified that apparently her daughter has lured theirs down a bad path. "Oh, Kristina," she says, one mother to another. "I am so sorry." Kristina tries to say that it's okay, she's just glad it's over, but everyone knows it so isn't. Behind the window, Haddie cuts a look of death at the nonplussed Amber.
As they trudge into the house later, Amber takes her mom aside. "Mom," she says, "it wasn't my weed." Sarah looks at her for a moment and then, totally deadpan, says, "That's great. What a relief. I'm so proud of you, honey." Oh, LORD. Poor Amber. Her face is a map of a million emotions, most of them trending towards sad and regretful.
I don't know if you've noticed that I wasn't loving it in the first half of this show, but here's the moment the tide turned for me, and it's 100 percent because of the greatness of Lauren Graham. At some undetermined amount of time later, possibly an hour or a week, Amber is downstairs watching TV and eating carrots when Sarah comes down on her way out for her set-up date with the Non-Unabomber. Amber, mildly sarcastic, snarks about how sexy it is to be going out for blind date Chinese, and finally, Sarah snaps. "That's enough out of you," she says. "I want you to know you made me mad, and you embarrassed me. And, it's going to be a long time before you earn my trust back." So admonished, Amber meekly says okay. Sarah turns to stomp out and, in a daughterly voice, Amber asks, "Are you sure about the shoes?" This is how you know your child loves you -- that she won't let you roll out of the house wearing flats on a date. Sarah turns. "Go on," she says. Amber sighs. "I mean, it's a date, not a bar mitzvah," she says, sassy again. "I just think you should go with your strong suit, you know?" Sarah, hesitating: "What is my strong suit?" Amber says it's her boots, of course. "Also," she adds, "that bag. It's very 1960s." For a moment Sarah is thrilled to have gotten something right, but Amber adds that she does not mean that in a good way. "Oh, God," Sarah groans, but goes back upstairs to change. Moments later we see her pull up to the Golden Dragon, appropriately booted and bagged. Inside, she makes her way across the restaurant, not knowing how to recognize this guy she hasn't seen in 20 years. "Hi," says a somewhat frumpy bald dude in an untucked shirt. Sarah barely glances at him. "Hi," she says, looking past him for Jim. Except... this IS Jim. She cannot hide her shock and disappointment, especially when, trying go in for a hug, Jim bashes her forehead with his own. "Sooo," she says, making a go of it, asking if he lives near Berkeley Coffee where Julia ran into him. "Oh," he says. "I don't know... Julia didn't tell you... I work at Berkeley Coffee. I'm a barista." Oh. Sarah struggles to maintain her composure, and finally can't. She jumpily says she needs to run out and make a quick phone call. "Oh, okay," Jim calls to her back. "I'll just get the appetizer started. You like shrimp toast?" Sarah: "Any kind of toast!" Hee. How I've missed you, Lauren Graham.
In the parking lot, she angrily dials Julia, who is just leaving work after a long day of lawyering. "Well! Is this who I am, to you?" she yells when Julia answers. "I mean, I know I'm not a big lawyer who walks around on the weekends in a Juicy pantsuit, but does that mean I have to go out with a fat, balding barista? Is that who I am to you?" Julia is speechless. "I know you're sexier than me," Sarah shouts. "Everybody knows it! I don't understand why it is you always have to prove you're better than me!" She closes saying she is never letting Julia set her up again, ever. Julia whisper-yells back that that's fine, because she's done helping her. Sarah says good, she doesn't need her help anyway, because she's not some kind of charity case. Julia: "Oh! Screw you!" Sarah: "No! Screw you! And I don't have time to talk to you right now, because I AM ON A FRICKIN' DATE!" With that, she stomps back in to the restaurant to attempt to get through the evening.
"Listen, I have something to show you," Jim says as she sits back down with a forced smile. He pulls out a ring, one he gave her 20 years ago. "Oh, yeah," she says, remembering it. "How do you have it?" He reminds her that she sort of threw it at him, the night she broke up with him. "Oh, yeah!" she says and then the memory really comes back. "I hit you right in the eye!" Jim laughs. Yes, he says, and they recall at the same time that he had said she should try out for the A's. As Sarah smiles sadly at the ring, Jim gives her the rest of his story. He wants her to know he's not just a barista. "I rebuild trucks from the '30s, I have several ping pong trophies on prominent display in my otherwise unimpressive apartment and, as if that wasn't enough which, I am sure it is," he adds, "I just found out the New Yorker is publishing one of my poems." Sarah, shamed, asks if he means the real New Yorker. "Yeah," he says. "Thanks." And even though she has been perfectly foul to him, he sweetly says that he is really glad she called him. "I have always thought about you, Sarah," he says, and she begins crying, still staring at the ring. He asks if she's all right. "You just kept this all this time," she says. "That's so nice. You're so nice, and funny." She says she married this guy who is a tortured musician with a drug problem. "I'm such a jerk," she says, crying. "I'm just not very good at the dating thing anymore, and, I mean, let's face it, in my prime I wasn't that good at it, either." Jim sincerely tells her that she is even more beautiful than he remembers. "Shut up," she says, through tears. "You are," he insists. "Seriously, shut up," she says, but then raises her face to ask, "Really?" Aw.
Jim learns here where nice guys finish -- and that is that they finish rolling around with Lauren Graham on a couch in her parents' house. "Is your dad home?!" he wheezes, popping his head up. "Jim," she breathes heavily, "it's okay. We're 38!" With that, she pulls him back down on the couch, but he jumps back up, reporting that, having become accustomed to the idea of never getting laid, he has no condoms. She laughs, and suddenly remembers that it's okay, she knows where some are! "Why does your dad have condoms in his desk drawer?" Jim wonders. Sarah, still breathing heavily says she's not sure, but when she found them she stared at them for two hours. "Do you think he's having an affair?" Jim asks. Sarah: "OH! MY! GOD! Stop talking!"
Certainly less sexy but still about body fluids, Katie is working when Crosby comes in with a report. "Just so you know," he says, "he never participated in a single Olympic event. So..." Katie is confused. "Your phenomenal sperm," he says, "traveled with the bowling team as a third backup. He never rolled a single ball. I just thought you should know that before you get out your turkey baster." (Okay, bowling is not an Olympic sport, but having just watched one million hours of curling with my obsessed husband, I have to say I can't understand why it isn't.) "You Googled my sperm," Katie says, disgusted. Hee. Crosby: "Yeah, I Googled your sperm!" He says he can't believe she's even doing this without discussing it with him. She shoots back that she's doing it because she wants to have a baby, and every time she brings up the word commitment with him, he winces. "I do not!" he insists. Katie: "You. Just. Winced." He argues with her about the wincing, wincing all the while. "You're an infant!" she says. And she's panicky, he retorts. "I'm 34!" she says, which... okay, yes, it is time to maybe get started on the baby thing, but certainly not time to panic. He says instead of inseminating herself with the sperm of some third-rate bowler, she should maybe have had a conversation with him about it, maybe considered a compromise on the baby thing. "You want half a baby? A bunny? What's a compromise?" No, he says, just maybe that she should give him time to figure out his career stuff. "I just saw a decade flash before my eyes," she says. "I need numbers, baby." Crosby says okay, five years, tops. Katie: "I'll give you three." Crosby: "Fine." Katie: "Okay." Crosby: "Great." They look at each other. "So," she says, suddenly softening. "You're saying you'll have a baby with me in three years?" Crosby: "...yep?" The crazy woman throws her arms around him. "Oh, my God, I love you!" she cries, as he pats her back and half-heartedly gives her a "Love you, too."
At Julia's House of Rejection and Sadness, she is singing her daughter a bedtime song when the child interrupts and asks if Daddy can sing to her, instead. Julia puts on a brave face and calls for Joel. "Uh, honey," Joel tells Sydney, "Mommy rushed home so that she could be here to..." Julia interrupts and says that it's okay, that she did get to read the book with Sydney. "And the book is the best, best, best part," Sydney says, which I suppose is something. As Joel begins the truly horrifying tale of the monkey chasing the weasel until the weasel goes pop, Julia makes a sad descent down the stairs.
Like a couple of drunk teenagers, Sarah and Jim flit in their underwear across the courtyard from her dad's study to the house's kitchen in search of snacks and wine. They are supercute. Tragically, every parent's nightmare becomes reality when Drew catches them in mid-celebration. "Hi, honey," Sarah says, trying to act normal as she stands there in Jim's shirt and her drawers. "How was dinner with Uncle Aaaa..." Too late. Drew runs upstairs. "Oh," Sarah whispers. "I am so dead."
The day, Crosby meets Adam at lunch to talk about his problems. His problems consist of the following: a "flexible" dancer from his past has reappeared and wants to meet up with him, and he's not sure if he should see her, since he is "quasi-engaged." Adam is confused. "You're what?" he asks. Crosby shrugs. "You know, potentially in negotiations to get engaged to Katie." Adam says he thought they agreed that Crosby was going to confront her about the sperm situation. Crosby says yeah, he did. "And you ended up getting engaged?" Adam asks, amazed. Again, Crosby shrugs. He didn't get engaged, he explains, he simply agreed to have a child with Katie in the three years. "So the married thing is kind of implied, right?" he asks. Adam is unimpressed. "Is this really how you want to live your life?" he asks. "You're an idiot." Crosby: "That's... pretty harsh." He pauses before adding: "Are you gonna eat your fries?"
Later, Adam runs into Kristina outside his office. She has seen the educational specialist who evaluated their son, and tries to explain how the report came back on Max. It appears he may have Asperger syndrome. What follows is a truly gut-wrenching scene. I can't recap it, really, because 1) they are talking all over each other; and 2) it is so hard to watch. Adam argues strongly that the day he was evaluated, Max was having a horrible day, that he is not autistic, he couldn't be, and that he does not want to send him to special ed. Kristina, tearful, tries to explain what Asperger's is, and how most people with it lead normal lives and what the therapist suggested that they do. Finally, she breaks down. "Honey," she yells, "there is something wrong with our baby." I am crying, just typing it. See what I'm saying? Feelings, whoa whoa whoa. Kristina says the therapist says it's not just the academics or the biting or the pirate costume, it's everything. "Please," she cries, as Adam rushes to hug her, "don't make me be alone with this." Really, bravo, the two of them really killed me with that.
Later, or the day or something, Adam shows up at Max's school. He calls him from the doorway and after a second, Max turns and looks at him. He's there to bring Max's book bag. While he asks if Max wants it hung up in the hallway, a kid walks by and says hello to Max. The pirate does not respond. "Max," Adam says, "that kid just said hello to you." Max just looks at his dad. Adam tells him that if he doesn't respond to people who say hello, they might think he's being rude. "Okay," Max says quickly. Adam: "Did you hear him say hello?" Max says, "Uh-huh." Just then, the bell rings, and Max simply turns and walks away. "Max!" his dad calls after him. "I love you." Max just gives a half-smile and turns away. Outside, Adam runs into another Little League dad who breaks it to him that the board voted and thinks he should not return to coach the rest of the season. Another dad can step in and coach, instead. "Oh," Adam says, over it. "Okay." The guy runs after him, saying that they've actually asked that he not be present at future games. Apparently the umpire is filing a lawsuit. Adam, perhaps burdened by a few other things on his mind, merely scoffs and walks off. "I'm really sorry, Adam," the guy calls after him. "It was a bad call!"
Adam goes home early for the day and is in his kitchen when Sarah arrives, wondering if Drew has come by. She is trying to explain about what happened with Jim when Crosby bursts in the back door, declaring himself in a pickle. "Katie already tried to move up the date," he says. "You gotta get me out of this engagement." Just as Sarah is registering her shock about this alleged engagement, Julia walks in to return some dishes. "Okay, this is about the frozen sperm thing," Julia says. Sarah: "I'm sorry? What?" Crosby is outraged that Adam shared his sperm story with Julia, but Julia brushes him off, instead breezing past Sarah to the kitchen. "Hi, crazy lady who yells at her sister from a date," she says. Sarah admits that she may have overreacted. "Why are you here?" Crosby asks his sisters. "This is Adam/Crosby time!" Adam tries to say that he didn't invite any of them, but Julia interrupts, saying that she's there to get Sydney who Kristina is picking up from school. "Joel has a dental thing and Sydney doesn't like me very much anyway, so..." They all insist that that is not true. "It's true!" Julia says, rationally. "She openly prefers Joel, and that's fine! Because I am a good lawyer, and he is a good father! She will be like... a relative of mine! See, I can manage this. I can lower my expectations." Adam has to cut in and tell her to hold that thought. "So," he says, turning back to Sarah, "are you saying we lost Drew?" Sarah explains that she is not sure, but it just might have something to do with Drew walking in on her and a half-named Jim last night. Julia: "You slept with Jim?! What happened to him being a fat, balding barista?" Sarah smiles and says she warmed to him. Adam and Julia laugh that she has been home for five minutes and already slept with someone, while Crosby tries to give his brother the high sign to get rid of the girls. Meanwhile, Sarah's phone rings. It's her ex-husband. Drew is with him. "Whatever you do, do not let him out of your sight! I am on my way," she says, hanging up. Turning to her siblings, she tearfully announces that Drew is "in mother-freakin' Fresno." As she hurries out, Adam offers to ride with her. "Thanks," she says, appreciative. "I'll do this."
Later, she pulls up to her ex's house, where a totally disgruntled Drew slouches to the car. Her straggly ex tells her that, um, this just isn't the best time for him to have Drew live with him. He might have road dates come up, or whatever. "See you soon, champ," he calls to Drew in the car. "Maybe we can take in a game, or something?" Drew mumbles yeah, sure. Here's where I turned to my husband and, as I always do when a difficult father/son relationship comes up, began belting out "Cat's in the Cradle". Internet, if you are my age, you dated at least seven guys who told you all meaningfully at some point that that song was totally about them and their dads. "He just doesn't understand me," he'd say, while you sat there awed by the depths of true emotion he'd show only to you. Or he'd hope that is what you were doing, when actually you were concentrating with all your might on not rolling your eyes. My husband haaaates when I sing "Cat's in the Cradle" to him, and I know it's because he pulled that on some poor girl(s). Teenage boys are such jags.
Poor Drew, though. His mom pats his shoulder as they pull away, and later in the rain at a gas station, he cries and she sees it. "Oh, honey," she says, crying too. "You deserve a father. You deserve a great father. I shouldn't have married him. I'm really sorry." Again, my heart breaks. Wow, the first and second halves of this show were like night and day. "For what it's worth," she says, "you have me. I'm really sorry, but that's going to have to be enough." He hugs her, and I cry AGAIN.
I haven't even stopped crying when we cut to Julia, along with the whole family, watching Sydney's music recital. The little girl wears angel wings and sings "Who Can Sail Without Wind?" along with the choir. Suddenly, she sees her mom in the audience and waves. It takes Julia's breath away. "She was great!" Zeek says, turning to Julia, allowing him to notice that Kristina is sitting there alone, without Adam and Max. He goes outside to find them, where Max is jumping over and over into a mud puddle as Adam watches. "Just go back inside," Adam says, simply, and explains that Max can't walk past the candles in the hallway, so they are staying out on the playground. Zeek finds this preposterous and demands that Max come back in. "He just has to walk past them and he'll be fine," he says, but Adam says it's not that simple. "It is that simple, Adam," Zeek says. "I raised four kids!" Adam fights tears, but says calmly that no, it's not that simple. "There's something wrong," he says. "There's something wrong with my son. And, I'm going to need you to help me." Zeek goes quiet, and stares at his grandson in the puddles. After a minute, he takes a deep breath, and says okay. "Oh, Sonny," he says, and reaches for Adam. Yeah, I'm still crying.
The day, Crosby meets up with the lovely Jasmine, a beautiful African-American woman, at his front door. Apparently he lives on a houseboat? I don't know. Anyway, here's Jasmine, and she has someone with her. "Who's this?" Crosby says, bending to shake the hand of the little boy. "This is Jabar," Jasmine answers. "He wanted to meet his dad." SNAP.
The whole clan is again having an outdoor meal when Crosby arrives at the house. "We have a major situation," he whispers to Adam, who gets up from the table to speak with him. "So, I have a kid," he says. "A son. A boy. His name is Jabar." Adam: "JABAR?" Crosby: "I don't know, she's apparently a basketball fan or something?" Heee. I am sorry, that is hilarious. At this moment, Max comes outside with a curious look on his face. "Isn't the game today?" he asks, and the chatter stops. "Well, buddy, I thought you were done with baseball," Adam says. Max: "It's my team." Now, see, I had just wiped my eyes and here they go again. Adam, also, is overwhelmed with emotion. Choking back tears, he smiles. "Game's in 10 minutes, everybody!" he yells, and the entire family jumps into action, grabbing uniforms and snacks. They arrive at the field together and cheer as Max takes the field, and just when I think I'm going to stop crying, the kid gets a hit.
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