Friday Night Lights - Episode 103 - Wind Sprints

I spent this past weekend in Nashville with a bunch of girlfriends. There's only so much I can tell you about the bikers, the karaoke, and the Citron-fueled Hawaiian Punch, since what happens in Nashvegas stays in Nashvegas, but I can tell you this: I pimped Friday Night Lights to anyone who stood still long enough to listen. I'm feeling downright evangelical about this show, proselytizing to the masses that don't quite fit NBC's target demographics. I practically hijacked a few folks and sat them down to watch the first two episodes. There's not a football fan among them, but one by one they succumbed. Four down, ten million to go!

We left the Panthers on a humdinger of a cliffhanger: Coach Taylor had started working his mojo on Matt; the Boo(hiss)sters were getting restless, what with their star quarterback being paralyzed and all; Trouble had exerted her considerable wiles on Smash (but not his mama!); and, to her husband's consternation, Tami had just become the new guidance counselor at the high school. But forget all that drama -- let's talk about the game!

The episode opens right where the last one left off, with the kickoff to the Friday night game. Jason's watching at the hospital with his mom, holding the signed football from his teammates like a security blanket. His mom's not sure watching the game is a good idea, but Jason's adamant.

At the field, Coach Taylor sticks with his game plan, calling for a risky pass play, despite the fact that Matt gets drilled as soon as he releases the ball. Matt looks so little out there! After a successful reception, Tony Mysterious makes a great run, then fumbles the ball. Ouch. We don't see the rest of the half, but Taylor's face in the locker room at halftime tells the story. Well, part of the story -- his sweat-sheened neck and face and spiky hair tell the rest. All our guys, coach and players alike, are insanely hot in this scene, and it has very little to do with the temperature in Texas.

I can already tell I'm going to be spending a lot of time paddling in the shallow end of the pool. It's partly a defense mechanism to combat the encroaching dread and menace that permeate the episode, but mostly it's just that these boys are firing on all cylinders. If you're here for the football commentary, there's some of that, too, but for the rest of you, come on in and join me -- the water's fine!

Coach Taylor's wired. The cool, calm, collected coach we've seen over the first two episodes has been replaced by a flushed, snarling, ridiculously sexy beast. As clips of the less-than-stellar first half intercut with his tirade, the coach says to Tim Riggins, "You're supposed to be one of the toughest guys in the district. They are handing your ass to you, son!" Um, can I get in that line? To Smash, he says, "You want to dance with these boys out there? You invite them to the prom!" Mr. Mouth himself tries to rebut, but gets shut down pronto by Taylor, who gets up in his face with a "You got something to say to me?!?!??!?" As hard as it is to watch Taylor lose his shit like this, it doesn't feel inappropriate or abusive. In a strange way, I think it's a good thing for him to show his passion.

The situation doesn't improve in the second half. With only fifteen seconds left to play in the game, the Panthers are down 13-7, and the radio announcer (who sounds like Slammin' Sammy, but I can't say for sure) says they've "self-destructed tonight." Jason encourages Matt from his hospital bed. On the last play of the game, it looks like Matt's going to make another game-winning touchdown as he runs for the end line, but he's stopped just short, and isn't that a lovely metaphor? So close and yet so far. QB or not QB? That is the question. The announcer tells us the Panthers have lost a heartbreaker to a team they should have easily dominated, and says it's a "disastrous start" to the season for Coach Taylor. In the stands, there are identical expressions of dismay from Tami and Buddy Garrity, though Buddy's seems to be accompanied by smoke coming out his ears and horns sprouting from his forehead. He's incongruously dressed in a Hawaiian print shirt, when surely a pitchfork would be a better accessory. The team walks away leaving Matt still lying on the ground looking after them. Oh, man, that's just so sad.

The Panthers may have lost, but I win, because we get another round of sweaty locker-room testosterosity after the game. Matt's got blood running down the side of his face from a cut above his eye. I blame the Winchester boys for my new 'well, now, don't he look good all beat up' kink. Coach Taylor goes to him and says, "Saracen. Good game." Then he walks away and says to the rest of the team, "But not good enough. Not nearly good enough."

We go into credits from Jason's point-of-view, as the camera pulls back to show the lit stadium fully visible from his hospital room window.

Back from commercials, we're at Tim Riggins' house. Big Bro's practicing his putt as he berates Tim with the following peptalk: "It ain't hard, Tim. Hell, it's not rocket science. You beat the living dog snot out of those guys, you win the game, then you go out and get yourself a little piece of tail. What part of that equation don't you understand? You guys bent over and grabbed your ankles. You shamed your good name." Hush your mouth, Big Bro. Tim's only paying attention to his beer bottle and sloughs off Big Bro's lip. A knock at the door gives Big Bro another opportunity to talk up that 'piece of tail,' this time referring to Lyla, who's come to make a house call in hopes of getting Tim to the hospital to see Jason. Tim very cutely tries to give his brother a high sign that he doesn't want to see Lyla. After giving Tim a hard time, Big Bro blocks the door and tells Lyla that Tim's not there, but Lyla's not fooled. She talks loudly enough that we can tell she knows good and well Tim's in that house. She says her piece, the best of which is, "Jason's asking for him, so sooner is better," and leaves. Tim drops his head back and clenches his jaw. Rowr.

The scene switches to Matt's house, where some asshole has spray-painted "LOSER" on his yard sign! Awwww! That stinks! Matt's trying to clean off the sign before his grandma sees it, while Landry distracts him with the theory that Matt's sweet old grandma is a witch who somehow caused the loss. Huh? I don't get that. Why would Grandma want Matt to lose? Matt and I are both perplexed. We learn that the Panthers haven't lost to South Millbank (the team that beat them last night) for seventeen years. Landry sweetly tells Matt he played a good game, then goes back to his cracked-out witch theory. "I'm talking about the supernatural," Landry says. Funny, I talk about the SUPERNATURAL a lot, too! Matt wearily responds, "You're retarded." As they continue to argue, Grandma comes out on the porch and asks Matt to "water the children." Uh-oh. Matt corrects her, but she doesn't understand that she said it wrong. That boy's got a plateful, doesn't he? A car zooms past, and the occupants shout, "LOSER!" as they go by. Nice. Very nice.

At the hospital, a physical therapist is supporting Jason while he struggles to lift his leg. He's panting from exertion when she finally calls a stop to it and helps him back in bed. He thanks her, of course. Lyla comes in and cheerfully tells Jason the team sure misses him, and that they got "spanked." She talks about the pancake supper planned for the next night -- a benefit to help offset the costs of Jason's stay at a rehab facility. She's excited about rehab because in Lylaworld, that's where Jason will get his legs back. And then she'll grow wings and they'll fly off to Notre Dame where she'll be the Homecoming Queen and he'll eventually become a first round draft pick and then they'll go live in Dallas and he'll play for the Cowboys. Lylaworld's a lovely place to visit. As she leans over and kisses him, her hand wanders perilously southward across his thigh. Good grief, Lyla, what the heck are you doing? Groping him to see if he responds to your touch when all else fails? That's just creepy. She backs up abruptly and calls for the nurse, saying there's "something wet down there," while Jason asks what's going on. Well, nothing says teen romance like a leaking catheter! Jason's humiliated, as upset as we've ever seen him, and I just want to smack Lyla for putting him in that position. Keep your hands off the paralyzed dude, okay? Jason really, really hates what's happening. He's managed to stay stoic pretty much all this time, but his girlfriend dealing with his pee seems to break something in him.

I miss the days of the week screen placards! How am I supposed to know how long it is until Friday?

Outside a convenience store, Tim's eating fried chicken in the front seat of his pickup truck. I guess he's persona non grata at the diner after the window-breaking incident? He seems really alone. Jason's mom pulls up in her car, and seeing Tim, goes over to talk to him. It's another awwwwww moment, because she calls him "honey" and asks how he's doing. He says he's okay. She says Jason's been asking about him, and he tells her he's been meaning to get over to see him. Mrs. Street lets him off the hook, saying she knows he's busy with football. She also says just because Jason's in the hospital, that doesn't mean Tim can't come over for Tuesday night dinner. Tim seems to appreciate her reaching out. He's extra polite, calling her "ma'am" repeatedly, and says he'll call her. She tucks his hair behind his ear and pats him, telling him to take care of himself. It's good to know he's got somebody like that in his life; Lord knows he needs it.

Later that evening, Taylor and Julie walk into the Alamo Freeze -- surely the same place Matt works? Oh, and "Alamo Freeze"? Really? I bet Davy Crockett and his rifle Betsy are both rolling over in their graves. As Taylor orders some food, Julie goes to sit at a table and is immediately accosted by a bearded jackass who asks her if they've started packing yet. He's wearing, oddly enough, what looks to be the same Hawaiian print shirt Buddy Garrity had on at the game. Maybe it's official Boo(hiss)ster Club gear? He's a nasty piece of work, and Julie looks more kittenish than ever in comparison. Dude! Pick on somebody your own size! It's another bit of deliberate malice, like the 'LOSER' painted on Matt's yard sign, and it makes me really uncomfortable. Like, the star quarterback's life-changing injury is one thing, but it takes actually losing a game for the town to start showing its true colors, and they're not pretty. Julie looks up at her dad, and he immediately comes over. Aw! The big Panther's protecting his cub. "You got a problem, you talk to me about it. Don't talk to my daughter," Taylor says. The jackass says he's got a problem all right: "I've got a problem with you pissing our season away calling those dumbass plays." Taylor leans over and says quietly in the jackass' ear, "I'm here with my fifteen-year-old daughter, so I'm just going to walk away." The ugly sumbitch says after him as Taylor escorts Julie out the door, "You ain't got guts. That's why you'll never have one of these," and holds up his fist with his Panther ring showing. He's still jawing through the window as Taylor walks past him. UGH. The whole scene makes my skin crawl.

During commercials I'll give you Pimp Reports. On the way home from Nashville, I stopped at a Citgo in Bucksnort, TN for a potty break and some Pringles. The old gal behind the counter had the TV tuned to one NFL game and the radio to another. There's another target audience for you, NBC.

At the field, the team's practicing. Smash has taken it upon himself to tell the coach that the team's decided Matt is the weak link. I'm sure you can imagine how well that goes over with Coach Taylor. When Smash protests the coach adding wind sprints to the end of practice, the coach just keeps adding 'em on in five-sprint increments until Smash finally shuts up. I think it's less that Matt is the weak link (since he really did seem to do just fine in the game) than the fact that Jason took the heart of the team with him when he went down, and they're floundering, big time. Up in the stands, the old black coach from the pilot (Deeks is his name) is letting himself be persuaded by Buddy Garrity to go look at a new quarterback, a guy displaced by Hurricane Katrina who's looking for a new football home. A guy named Ray 'Voodoo' Tatum. If the name sounds ridiculous, keep in mind that the QB for the University of Texas Longhorns this year is named Colt McCoy. COLT. McCOY. And that's not even a nickname. It sounds like a name out of a romance novel; if Diana Palmer had written it, Colt would have older brothers named Steed and Quarterhorse ("Quart" for short) and they would all have sardonic eyebrows and sensuous mouths. I may have read a few thousand Diana Palmer novels in my time. Colt's a good West Texas boy, too, from a town with 714 people and one blinking stoplight, and he's kicking ass for the Longhorns. Go, Colt! Sorry, sorry, what were we talking about? Oh, right, Voodoo. Deeks and Garrity agree to go check him out.

At Lyla's house, we learn that the next day is Lyla's birthday, but rather than spend it with her family, she's already made plans to spend it at the hospital with Jason. Her mama's worried about her spending so much time there, but Lyla says her mom would do it for her dad, so she's doing it for Jason because they're getting married some day (and growing wings! and moving to Dallas!) Mama tells Lyla she needs to accept the reality of the situation, but Lyla's still not ready to hear it.

The pancake supper. The scene's shot much like the car dealership opening, with much the same cast of characters. Lots of quick cuts, so I'm just going to give you the highlights:

Landry to Matt: "Well, the river of rally girls has pretty much run dry."
Matt to Landry: "Yup."

Matt to Julie: "Hey, Julie, I got you some soy sausage."
Julie to Matt: "No, thanks, but you can have my pancakes." Okay, she was walking past him on her way out the door, but still! An improvement!

Mayor Rodell to Tami, after she congratulates her on her new job: "The last school counselor killed herself. Pills, I think."
Tami: "…"

The Boo(hiss)sters are talking up Voodoo, but Coach Taylor's wary of suspect recruiting practices. Buddy keeps after him until he finally agrees to watch the game tapes. I can see how Buddy would be a good salesman. I bet everyone in town drives a Chevy, just to get him to leave them alone!

Whoa, here comes Trouble! She struts her way into the pancake supper like it's the Vegas strip and she's the main attraction. She's almost wearing a denim skirt and some bare-backed shirt thingy, and she looks about twelve feet tall as she towers over Smash. He calls her his "little ray of sunshine," but she blows him off, saying she's looking for Tim. Brrrr, is it cold in here?

Speaking of Tim, he's left a trail of beer cans behind him. I was sure he'd be taking potshots at somebody's barn, but he takes after his Big Bro, using cans for golf balls and hitting them off a bluff. Tim just looks like he belongs in the great wide open, doesn't he? Like you can't cage him in with walls. His swing's pretty good considering he seems to have drunk what's in all those cans he's smacking. Trouble pulls up in a pickup truck (sounds like a good title for a country song!) and says, "Hey, dumbass." Ah, young love. They're really not nice to each other. Her voice cracks as she says, "You won't even go see Jason in the hospital. Grow a set, why don't you? Because we both know that's what all this is really about." Well, you can't say she doesn't have his number. "How's Smash?" Tim asks. "Was he good? Did you have a nice time?" Ouch. Trouble tells him that nothing happened, not really, and turns it around on Tim, reminding him he's slept with half the rally girls. "We sure do have something special here," Tim says. She calls him a mediocre football player who'll grow up to drink himself to death. OUCH. They break up, "for real," she says, like it's a pattern they've been in for awhile. She's upset. He's upset. I'm upset. She gets back in her truck and drives away, as Tim lines up another can and whacks the hell out of it.

Commercials. I persuaded my dad to watch by enlisting him as an editor for my recaps. Now he's hooked! (Hi, Dad! Thanks for all your help!)

The coaches are sitting around watching Voodoo's footage (which sounds vaguely dirty…), and Taylor realizes that one of them, Mac, saw it already at a barbecue at Buddy Garrity's. Et tu, Mac?

At the school, what looks like a rally girl comes up to Tim in the hall and gives him a paper on East Of Eden that she's written for him, "misspelling some words this time so they think you wrote it," (OUCH!) and says his biology homework is on the bottom. I don't think the title choice is accidental -- East of Eden is about a brooding young man struggling against overwhelming odds…James Dean played him in the movie. Tim thanks her desultorily. She confirms that he and Trouble broke up. Lyla stops him as he passes her and invites him to a prayer meeting for Jason. "What're we praying for, Lyla? A new spine for Jay?" Oh, Tim…forget panthers; you're wrangling a tiger if you take on Lyla. He walks away, but she comes after him. "I know you don't do anything you don't want to do, and I guess that's fine, but don't insult me," she says, which…yes, exactly. She's nicer to him than I would have been, frankly. Tim has the grace to look abashed as Lyla turns and walks away. I think he and Trouble have been exchanging verbal barbs for so long that he's forgotten how to do anything else.

Matt goes to visit Tami in her new office, on the excuse of dropping pre-Calculus so he has more time to focus on football. She finds him the right form and asks him how things are going. He starts to talk about the football team, but she steers the conversation to him personally. Her nameplate might as well just say "MOM" on it. After some discussion of the responsibility he has for his grandmother, he brings up "this Katrina refugee, this quarterback from New Orleans," that they're talking about bringing in. Tami looks surprised and says she hasn't heard anything about that. Oh, dear, I think Eric's been keeping secrets.

Back on the practice field, Taylor's putting Tim through his paces, sending him down a gauntlet of players with big pads, who do their best to impede his progress by knocking the bejeezus out of him. Ah, that brings back fond memories of Black Betty and the BAM RAM BAM! Normally, this is where Tim shines, but you can tell his heart's not in it. That dude is one hurtin' pup. Poor Tim! Taylor tells him to keep his legs moving, keep digging, keep his head up. He calls Tim over and says, "You go hard or you go home," and says he has to give 110% percent all the time, not just when he feels like it. "Do it again," Taylor says, and turns away. Tim looks at him for a minute, then takes off his helmet and walks off the field, with Taylor calling after him, "Don't do it! Don't you do that! Don't do what I think you're about to do." Ack! That's not a good call, Timmy boy. One of the assistant coaches, a good one, as opposed to the one who eats Satan's barbecue, stops Taylor and tells him, "Let him go, Coach. He's been watching the game film from when Street got hurt. I have a feeling he thinks it's all his fault." Taylor says, "Why the hell would he think it's his fault?" The Good Assistant Coach says, "I don't know. Maybe he thought he should have made a tackle or something," to which Taylor replies, "He was thirty yards away!" The GAC puts a hand on his arm and says, "You can blame yourself for just about anything if you think about it long enough." Now, there, see, guys? This is what happens when you talk to each other! Communication is a wonderful thing!

As Taylor walks off the field, he's pounced on by Satan and his assistant coach minion, Mac. Buddy's pushing Taylor on the Voodoo issue, countering Taylor's argument about recruiting (which I gather is a big no-no in high school football, but still happens all the time) by saying his only motivation is helping out this poor devastated kid who lost everything to Katrina. Ahem. Since when did Buddy Garrity become Saint Satan??? I call bullshit! Taylor can smell it a mile away, too, but as nice as it would be for Taylor to stick with Matt to the bitter ugly end, the truth is they could probably use another quarterback.

The scene cuts to a motel, where Taylor, Mac and St. Satan climb the stairs and encounter another coach on his way down. It's tawdry and awful and furtive, like two businessmen meeting in a stairwell after their respective nooners with their secretaries. Voodoo and his family have a shell-shocked look I've seen on Katrina evacuees before. They look bored and proud, and they hate these fawning white boys who've come to bleed them dry. Voodoo has the good sense not to shake Buddy's hand. After some small talk, St. Satan offers them everything from "very fine, very comfortable" housing to a job for Voodoo's dad to a "fund from the local businesses" to help the family get back on its feet. "The town of Dillon is a fine town, a generous town," St. Satan says. Taylor looks sicker by the minute, but he doesn't step in until Buddy offers Voodoo the starting position at QB. "You want to go all the way, son?" Taylor asks Voodoo. "I am going all the way," Voodoo says. Taylor says, "Then you want to be on the number one team in Texas. It's not about new cars and start-up money, it's about your future. And starting positions aren't handed out in motel rooms, they're earned on the field." He says Voodoo can go with "Arnett Mead," which is either an opposing school or the coach that just left, "but they're gonna have a short season. It's your choice." He pays his respects to the family and walks out. And that's how a classy guy gets stuff done, Buddy. Study it; you might learn something.

Commercials Pimp Report. My most successful pimping strategy yet? Taylor Kitsch (aka Tim Riggins). He's not as well known as Kyle Chandler, but the whole anti-hero, rippling abs, hair-in-his-eyes thing he's got going on has women I know from 13 to 50 worked up into a lather. TK's been getting around -- he was in both The Covenant and Snakes on a Plane -- and I wouldn't mind him getting around to me, if you know what I mean. Oh, hell, who am I kidding? Even if he did, I'd probably just make him a sandwich and he'd call me "ma'am."

At the Garrity's, as Lyla listens in upstairs, her parents discuss how worried they are about her. Well, her mama talks and her daddy pshaws it, which isn't too surprising, since he's THE DEVIL. Mama says Lyla's living "in fantasyland." See? Even her mama knows about Lylaworld! "She's put all her eggs in one basket, and I'm sorry to tell you this, but you and I let her," her mama says. Lyla's ponytail, always the barometer for her emotional state, is drooping. Her daddy says, "She'll get bored and she'll move on." Lyla and her ponytail pout their way off-screen.

We switch to the Taylor's house, where Tami jumps on Eric a little about the potential new QB, saying it's stressing Matt out. Straw? Meet the camel's back. Eric immediately goes on the defensive and sarcastically suggests he go over to Matt's house, make him some Ovaltine and read him a bedtime story. Aw, don't be like that, Coach! Tami suggests he try a little compassion, which must be like trying a little tenderness, only with football pads and wind sprints. Taylor says everybody in town's telling him what to do, and what those kids don't need is compassion. What they need is a WIN. The TV's on in the background, showing an interview with Smash, who proceeds to diss "Coach T." Oh, Smash, you've done it now. Can't you ever just keep your mouth shut?!? Seriously, man, you're working Coach Taylor's last fraying nerve. As Tami repeats, "Let it go," over and over, Taylor gets on the phone, telling Mac to gather the team at the fieldhouse in thirty minutes, despite the late hour.

Quick cuts show the come-to-Jesus call going out to Matt, Tim, and several other players we haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet. Maybe we'll get to see Rupert or Rodeo, our friendly neighborhood background players! Taylor himself delivers the news to Smash, saying he's going on a field trip. "I'll see you in the car in two minutes," he says to Smash, who looks like he just swallowed a grapefruit whole.

The weather's mirroring the team's internal conflict -- I'm sure there's some literary term for that, but I can't remember what it is, which is really, really sad, since I was an English major. Lightning and thunder accompany the players as they board a bus at the field. Some of the boys seem to be in their pajamas, which tells me that if they've learned anything, it's that when Coach Taylor tells them to jump, they should simply ask how high. Hear that, Smash? How. High.

It's raining men! Hallelujah! It's raining men! Amen! An outright deluge is pouring down from the heavens as the boys get off the bus some time later. It's pitch black except for the light from the headlights. "Wind sprints, up and down the hill," Taylor says, and like a herd of buffalo across the plains, the team takes off running. They dash down the hill, across a flooded gorge, and up the other side. Then they turn around and run back. They run until Tim's sweat shirt and pants are soaked through from the rain and clinging to every muscle, which is exactly long enough, in my book. As they run, Taylor hollers out to them, "You think you're champions because you wear the Panthers uniform? You're wrong. You think you're champions because they give you a piece of pie at the diner? You're wrong." The boys keep running, and honestly? If there's ever been a better looking set of soaking-wet boys, I'd like to know where so I can get a picture. "Champions don't complain. Champions don't give up," Taylor yells. He repeats those two lines a couple of times, then says, "You're not champions until you've earned it." I don't know what the music is playing in the background, but it underscores the drive, the propulsion that seems to take hold of the teammates as they get into the rhythm of the sprints. Damn, this show has some great moments. On and on they run, across the gorge and up the hill, then back. They run until some are literally puking their guts out. They run until they're dripping wet, out of breath and bent over with exhaustion. They're hardly individuals anymore, just this teeming, panting entity that can't exist in parts, only as a whole. Taylor stares at Smash, who stares back at him for a long minute. Then Smash turns his head, and for once he says exactly the right thing: "Clear eyes!" My heart leaps. "Full hearts!" Smash says, and Matt answers, "Can't lose!" Ahhhhhhhh! That's just…WOW. Smash says it again, a little louder and the team responds. I love you, Smash! Louder and louder they state their creed, until they're all yelling it at the top of their lungs, and then, and then, and THEN, Smash shouts, "Go!" and they all go back in the water, sprinting again, brushing past Coach Taylor, who stands strong in the face of his team, and I just about explode with delight. My heart's pounding and I feel like I've been out there wind sprinting with them. O.M.G. This is the best show EVER. The whole scene is…well…it's thrilling. It's tight, it's gorgeously shot, and it hits me hard right where I live. Also? It's got starkly lit hotties bonding in the rain. Bond, boys, bond! It's like they wrapped up everything I love about the show, stuck a bow on it and handed it to me.

Commercials. Pimp Report: We had a thing to go to, so we didn't get home until really late on Tuesday. I'd already decided to watch the episode, but I figured my Ever-Patient Mister would take himself off to bed. But no! He traipsed upstairs with me and watched. At this point in the show, I turned to him and said, "Well, at least it didn't make me cry this week!" He said, "It's not over yet."

At the hospital, Lyla's packing up her Tupperware from dinner. Her ponytail's deceptively perky. She talks about going out for her birthday next year when Jason's better. He's finally had it, and he pushes and pushes, tossing her out of Lylaworld and back into reality, where he's peeing in a tube and she's lying to herself. He ends up yelling at her, which is painful to see, because I really have been rooting not just for him, or her, but for them together. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he shouts. He wants her to stop pretending everything's going to be all right. "You walk in here all smiles, acting like nothing's wrong, and it's killing me," he says. Oh, baby! "You get this through your head, all right? My life? As we knew it? Over. Football? Over. Notre Dame? Going pro? All that. Gone. You and me? We're not getting married. So I need you to do something for me. Get out. GET OUT. Don't just look at me. GO." Okay, OUCH. That hurts. I get it, I do, and I don't blame him, but…ouch. She turns away and says she'll be back tomorrow, for when they transfer him to the rehab facility.

Back where it's still raining men, the team's boarding the bus again. Taylor stops Tim with a hand on his chest, clutching a fistful of Tim's wet shirt, and I need to rename my Ever-Patient Mister the Ever-Prescient Mister, because I'm choked up before Taylor even starts talking to him. I also have to take a moment, because Tim? In a stretched-out sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped out? VERY. HOT. The camera watches them out the window of the bus, so it sort of seems like the whole team can hear it when Taylor says to him, "What happened to Jason Street, it was nobody's fault. This is football. Things happen. It was an accident, do you understand me?" Tim looks away and says huskily, "I didn't even try, Coach." Taylor says, "You were on the other side of the field. It wouldn't have mattered. It was an accident. It was Not. Your. Fault." Tim's face crumples and he chokes on a sob as Taylor says, "Look at me, son. I want you to let yourself off the hook." Tim manages to say, "Yes, sir," saying it again, and looking Taylor in the eye when the coach says, "Be smart." The coach then tells Tim if he ever walks out on a practice again, he'll kick him off the team. He says Tim owes him a practice, but since Tim's walking home, they'll call it even. As the coach grabs him, we've got Kitschnipple onscreen, and it would take a better person than me not to mention it. They've got me all teary and horny and what happens next hasn't even happened yet! How much can a girl take?!?

Pearl Jam's eerily appropriate "Come Back" plays as Lyla drives down the road with the wind whipping in her disheveled ponytail. I can't tell what she's driving, but I guarantee you it's a Chevy. She sees Tim walking by the side of the road and stops to offer him a ride. "Isn't it past your bedtime, Lyla?" Tim snots. He walks away, but nobody puts Lyla in a corner, so she stops the car and confronts him. "I thought God would do me a favor, since I'm such a good girl," she says. "Isn't that the stupidest thing you've ever heard?" She berates him again for not going to see Jason, saying, "You can walk, you can walk on your own two feet to get another glass of beer if that's what you want to do." She slaps him, slaps him again, then starts screaming at him. He backs up, his face crumbling just like it did with the coach, but she keeps coming, pushing him against the side of her car while he deflects her blows as best he can without hurting her. "He's your best friend," she says, crying. "He asks for you all the time." She starts sobbing and collapses against him, saying, finally, "He's never going to walk again." *sniff* Tim holds her up, pulling her to him and burying his face in her neck. What happens next is as natural as dry ground soaking up rain: Tim's lips trip over Lyla's, or is it vice versa? It's hard to tell who initiates the desperate kiss that follows, but it seems like a natural extension of their grief, and, much like the confrontation between Smash and Tim, this spontaneous embrace isn't really about them. It's really still all about Jason. They've each been isolated in their grief, though in very different ways, and when they come together, there's something satisfying about it, even though you know it's going to come at a high price. I'd also be lying if I said I didn't think they looked incredibly good together. Bad me! The side of the road with cars going by isn't exactly the best place to start a secret illicit affair, either, kids. Get a room! Or, better yet, just quit it!

The song continues in the background as Eric climbs in bed with Tami, spooning up behind her. "It's three o'clock in the morning, where've you been?" she mumbles. "Practice," he says, kissing her shoulder. Aww!

The next day, the nurses are slowly getting Jason ready for his trip to the rehab facility. There's little dignity in being a patient, but they dress him in shorts and a t-shirt respectfully, gently moving his legs and arms where they need to go. Lyla comes in just as they're getting ready to go. She's got her hair down completely; no pony at all. She might as well be wearing a scarlet 'A' on her chest. Jason says to her, "I'm sorry about last night. Can we just pretend it didn't happen?" Oh, the irony. Now who's living in Lylaworld? He says he didn't mean any of it and that he loves her. She kisses him and says she loves him, too, and I believe she does, but Lordy, there's a storm coming, you know? It's all gonna get worse before it gets better. Jason's dad puts the signed football in Jason's lap, and he clumsily reaches for it, securing it to him with hands that can't yet grip.

At practice, there's renewed energy and vigor in the team, and things are looking a LOT better than they did before their little field trip. Tim looks good -- quick and light on his feet and focused. The GAC says, "Never underestimate the power of a good spanking, Coach." Just as the GAC pats Matt on the pads and says, "Looking good out there, guys, looking good," we see Buddy Garrity walk onto the field, trailing Voodoo Tatum behind him. Against the backdrop of the field and the players in their practice uniforms, Voodoo looks out-of-place in his unlaced boots and open shirt. He looks like what he is, a displaced kid trying to find a place to call home. "We got ourselves a quarterback," says St. Satan. Taylor puts out a hand for Voodoo to shake, which he does. "Welcome aboard, son," the coach says. The players look none too sure about old Voodoo. I hope the night of the wind sprints stands them in good stead, since it looks like they're going to need all the teamwork they can muster. St. Satan looks particularly devilish as he eyes what he's wrought. The episode ends with Voodoo walking across the field, taking in everything.