Monsters of Television

“Buddy’s here!”

The best marriage on TV? Probably.

Those two words convey the delight of Friday Night Lights‘ most recent episode, “A Sort of Homecoming.” Despite the fact that it ventures into challenging territory by contemplating race, religion, and sex, it is often the smallest of moments that offer satisfaction. In the scene referenced above, Coach Taylor unintentionally crosses the economic and racial barriers that exist in Dillon, Texas, and finds himself at an impasse in his goal to build team spirit for East Dillon High School. Then, Buddy Garrity enters the room and suddenly those barriers disappear in a spontaneous eruption of nostalgia for the great football moments of a Dillon long past.

I’ve already watched the entirety of this season—and to be honest, I was initially hesitant to jump back in–would I be bored?  Would the season hold up?  It only took ten minutes, and I was hooked all over again.  Principal Tami Taylor, trying to raise funds for the suffering library at West Dillon High, learns that her disruption of the football team not only has upset Panther fans but also has threatened the funds usually earned from the donations of football boosters. She says little by way of protest, stating instead, “That seems a shame to me.” The line conveys multiple layers of regret—regret that she has earned the ire of her neighbors, regret that she failed to comprehend the stakes of her decisions, and regret that she runs a school in a district that will sacrifice education for football. Perhaps her greatest regret derives from her knowledge that this is a battle she cannot win.

This episode is pivotal for a number of reasons. The coach continues to build confidence in his players, in the town, and in himself. Having ended their first game of the year in a forfeit, the coach now has to prove not only that the team deserves support but also that he is the man to build it. Tami, too, must rebuild confidence. Her decision to expose the deceit that allowed Luke Cafferty to play for West Dillon infuriated Panther fans and has limited her ability to do her job as principal. Buddy mourns the loss of his Panther pride. Landry takes steps towards a new relationship, and Luke and Vince establish a delicate truce. All these characters have reached a crossroads of sorts, and the episode made me excited to see which path they take.

Julie Taylor, daughter of the coach and the principal, has not always been a highlight of this program. In year’s past, she has been, well, a teenager—bratty, whiny, and frustrated. Yet in this episode, both Julie and her boyfriend Matt demonstrate at once the innocence of youth and the self-awareness that comes with burgeoning adulthood. In the second scene depicting the two, they are sitting outside playing Scrabble, laughing over Matt’s attempt to use “za” as vernacular for “pizza.” As they joke, they begin to sense the distance growing between them, and it culminates with one, casual line uttered by Matt. “You won’t live in Dillon for long,” he says. The scene ends, but that one line is enough to convey Matt’s regret for his decision to abandon college while Julie eagerly plans her own college departure.

The episode ends with Matt. Newly enlightened that his decision to stay in Dillon instead of going to college did not derive from his desire to be with his grandmother but instead issued from his fear of losing Julie, Matt is forced by circumstances to grow up. He arrives at Julie’s door to explain his resentment of her, but instead learns from her that his father has been killed in Iraq. In this way, the show forces its characters to endure some of life’s greatest challenges, but it does so by acknowledging with kindness its characters strengths and weaknesses.

Despite these big moments, I continually marvel at the details. Riggins in a dress shop, the assistant coach at a gay bar, and the former-Lion, now minister, leading the chant of “pride” to the struggling Lions team. Even when the show starts down the path to unjustified melodrama, as when Becky starts to cry in the dress shop because her mother has blown her off, it quickly pulls back. Riggins explains to Becky that his own mother failing to take him dress shopping is the reason he got into football. Subtle, honest, and gentle—this is the heart of Fright Night Lights.