Friday Night Lights: Humble Pie (Episode 213)

You know that feeling that you get right near the end of the school year, when you realize summer's coming and nothing will ever be the same? I've had that feeling this week. Now there are only two new episodes left, and I'm already feeling nostalgic. It's especially bittersweet since the show seems to be returning to the rhythm and flow of the first season; it's an ensemble cast working at its absolute best. We won our second season, but we probably won't get to see it in its entirety. I'll take this platform and this moment to plead for renewal for a third season. The people of Dillon still have stories to tell. I'll be sitting right here, waiting to hear them.

"JASON, YOU EVER THOUGHT ABOUT SELLING CARS?" - Jason! Baby! C'mere and let me give you a hug; I've missed you! It's about time Jason got a storyline that didn't involve somebody wanting to pee on him. At the service department of the Chevy dealership, Jason learns that Herc sold him a lemon. Shocker. The transmission repair cost will eat up half of Jason's savings, so Buddy offers him a job selling cars, which Jason reluctantly accepts. But he's Jason Street, so he gives it his all, and it turns out he's good at it. That doesn't sit at all well with Buddy's other salespeople, especially Annabelle, the sales leader, who lies about a "points system" that Jason will have to follow in order to meet new clients. Instead, as low man on the totem pole, Jason's stuck with a "lookyloo" who comes in twice a week to gaze admiringly at a new Tahoe, but never seals the deal. Buddy gives Jason a peptalk (and heads off to chastise Annabelle for her lying ways) as Lookyloo returns to the dealership once again. Jason climbs up on his wheelchair equivalent of a soapbox and gives Lookyloo a rousing speech that combines "Life is short!" with "You're worth it!" and may even imply that Lookyloo's penis will enlarge by several inches if he will just buy the damn truck. "Buy it. Buy it. BUY IT," Jason says, pounding his clenched fist on the arm of his chair. Lookyloo looks down at him, eyes blazing with hope, and says timidly, "Okay."

"SO, YOU'RE USING YOUR TUTORING SKILLS TO SEDUCE FRESHMEN NOW?" - Jason's not the only one with a new interest: Landry may have found his soulmate. Her name's Jean, and she's cute as a button with blond mini-dreads that look like cotton candy and bright eyes behind smart rectangular glasses. She's sharp, too, because Landry thinks she might have skipped a grade or two, but she's still in his Physics class. It's nice to see Landry look a little lighter, and it's hilarious to see Trouble get her thong in a twist over Landry sniffing around some girl who isn't her. It's a great change of tone for Trouble and Landry, and Annie Palicki and Jesse Plemons totally knock it out of the park. Not that they didn't do great work during the Massive Fuckup, but this kind of humor seems the harder of the two to me, and they're both really good at it. My Ever-Patient Mister was full of helpful comments this week, like, "They have good chemistry, those two," and "Look how jealous she is!" just in case I hadn't noticed it.

Landry might have just considered Jean a study buddy, but she's savvy enough to speak the boy's language and introduces metal bands into the conversation. You can see the spark light in Landry's eye (or, as My Mister put it, "Oh, he's got a boner now") as they hash over thrash. He corrects her interpretation of Crucifictorious, saying it's "extreme grindcore with heavy thrash metal influences." Oh, and here I thought it was "extreme cat-mating with heavy colicky baby influences." Seriously, though, Landry might be in love. They even go to Applebee's to study over Sizzlin' Apple Pie. It sounds like Landry's genuinely surprised to see that Trouble is their waitress -- she changed shifts with somebody -- and we get to see the little green monster climb up Trouble's back again. Jean's not oblivious to the undercurrents -- hell, they're practically waves slapping at the shore. As Maureen Ryan put it in her Chicago Tribune blog entry this week, Trouble forgets the "passive" part of "passive-aggressive." Later on, Jean wins all the hearts at our house when she brings Landry a heavy metal mix CD, because, as we heard straight from Landry's mouth last season, "Nothing says 'I love you' like a mix CD." Even better, she brings it to him (again at the Applebee's - that Sizzin' Apple Pie must be pretty darn good) as he's hanging out with Matt and Tim, leading to some good-natured ribbing and a great affectionate, indulgent, teasing look on Tim's face. (Hey, look, I've only got two episodes left; if I want to Timgush a little in a Landry scene, I'm gonna do it. Life is short! I'm worth it!). I like Jean's chutzpah and confidence; I hope she sticks around for awhile.

"YOUR MOM IS ONE FOR ONE!" -- Making Eric Taylor the athletic director as well as the coach may have been a stroke of genius, since it's opened up a variety of opportunities to move off the football field while still keeping the focus on high school athletics. It's almost subversive that while they've toned down the football (in apparent response to the suits trying to lure more female viewers), they still got a game in this week, featuring the 0 - 7 Dillon girls' volleyball team. When the volleyball coach abruptly quits, Eric puts Tami in charge of the team. She coaches with the same kind of tough love that Eric brings to his boys, exhorting the Taylor mantra of "Stick together and it all works out," which I'm considering putting on bumper stickers, or maybe t-shirts. Even better, Tim's still working off his karmic debt and comes along as Tami's assistant. "You're here to help, not to coach," Tami has to remind him, which…HEE.

Gratuitous Tim Pic

The team sucks, to put it bluntly, but then Trouble comes over for dinner and stretches up to put some chips away in the cabinet over the fridge. I look at My Mister and say, "That girl's a long drink of water," and *boom* Tami and I both have the same idea simultaneously. She even says the 'drink of water' thing about Trouble, which leads to a high-five at my house. Trouble takes all 5'11" of her, and all those years of people pissing her off, and channels it into spiking. Tami tells her when Dillon's behind during the big match, "'Focus on Riggins and slam it down his throat." I'm not really sure why, since Trouble and Tim seem to have moved beyond all that, but the image seems to work as Trouble steps up her game and gives Dillon its first win of the season! Woo hoo! Trouble gives a beautiful wide grin as Tami comes over and hugs her, saying, "You had fun, didn't you?" Meanwhile, up in the stands, Eric cheers as Julie watches Tami and Trouble, her face sliding into a familiar moue of discontent. Oh, good grief, are you kidding me? Julie, you might as well start blowing the debate team, because you suck like a Hoover. Don't think we've forgotten the Swede, or how you broke Matt's heart, or that time you screamed "Go to hell!" at your post-partum mother, or the zipped-lip thing when Tim salvaged your vir gin gin from that pipsqueak Riley. Oh, no, we haven't forgotten any of that, and one little apology and confession doesn't begin to make up for it, so try, for once, to think about somebody besides yourself, and be happy for your friend. GOD.

"YOU'VE GOT TO BE BETTER THAN OTHER PEOPLE" -- Speaking of thinking about somebody besides yourself, Smash has found himself in a heap of trouble over the altercation he got into at the movie theater when that jackass taunted Noannie. Though come to think of it, it's still really all about Smash, since he shouldn't have been at that theater in the first place. I'm not saying he and Noelle shouldn't have been together, but they shouldn't have been sneaking around like that. And they shouldn't have made Noannie sit by herself. And they should have gotten up and walked away when the guy started in on them, just like Smashmama taught him. But none of that happened, and the guy Smash hit decided to press charges, so two cops come to Smash's house and arrest him, putting him in handcuffs and carting him off while Smashmama hurries behind, begging to know what's going on.

At a meeting with various lawyers (and Coach Taylor, of course), Smash tries to get blustery with the lawyer, who suggests he apologize and plead guilty to a misdemeanor to avoid going to court. Smashmama puts her not-inconsiderable foot down, telling him between clenched teeth that he'd better not let his "big ignorant ego" get in the way of his future. Smash gives a statement to the press, apologizing for the incident and saying he was wrong. That's not good enough for the jackasses, though, who continue to call the house and harass Noannie. Then the jerk Smash hit makes his own televised statement, implying that Noannie did something to encourage him, and then the dumbest thing ever happens: a TV reporter comes right into the Applebee's with his camera crew while the boys are hanging out (enjoying their Sizzlin' Apple Pie! Yum yum!) and asks Smash to respond. Which he does. *facepalm* At least this time, it's not really out of character. Smash loves nothing more than talking, and he's both righteously indignant and supremely pissed off, so he tells the reporter that guy deserved more than he got, and he's not sorry after all. Whoops! I guess Applebee's is public property, and I guess Smash has done his fair share of interviews, but the idea of him being ambushed at a restaurant with no adult there to supervise…it's just a little far-fetched for my liking. The impact takes a little while to be felt, but when it comes, it's big: the mysterious all-powerful "Board" suspends Smash for three games. Smash looks at his mama and his coach, disbelieving, saying that's the remainder of the regular season. "But how are we gonna get to playoffs?" he asks, aghast. "How are we gonna get to State?"

"I'VE GOTTA GET SOMETHING OFF MY CHEST, GARRITY" -- Oh, Tim. Much as I love all the Timtime we've gotten this season, I sure do wish they'd stop breaking beer bottles over his head kicking the boy when he's down. Before we even get to the opening credits, Guy, Cooter, and a couple other trashy types who look like the do their meth with KFC chasers, approach Tim as he's leaving one of Dillon's ubiquitous beermarts. At first, Guy gives off something of a skeevy Deliverance vibe, cradling Tim's face in his hands and telling him he misses him, and I start to worry that my boy Timmy's about to lose the last cherry's he's got, but fortunately, they just beat the crap out of him instead and leave him sprawled and bloody in a pile of broken beer bottles in the parking lot with a warning that he's got a week to repay the money he owes. Ouch.

The beating serves as something of a wake-up call for Tim, but about something more precious to him than money. You know that look Tim gets when he's got the ball tucked under his arm and he's headed for the end zone, and to hell with whatever stands between him and six points? Well, that's got nothing on his singular determination to declare himself to Miss Lyla Garrity. I guess it's not that surprising; in both cases, he's trying to score. Looking ridiculously good in bruises, a split-open forehead and The Other Shirt, Tim comes into Lyla's church right there during the service, like he can't wait one more minute. When she asks what happened to his face, he casually tells her, almost as an aside, that he got beat up by meth addicts because he stole three thousand dollars from them. Then he gets to the heart of his message: he wants to talk to her. She refuses, but he badgers her into agreeing to come to his house the next night. The exchange does not go unnoticed by Lyla's new boy toy, Christian.

The next night, Tim's cooked dinner (chicken!) and put flowers and candles on the little table in anticipation of Lyla's arrival. I clutch my chest as My Mister says, "No one loves deeper than a high school boy." When the doorbell rings, Tim takes a deep breath and opens it. Lyla seems shocked to see the candles and flowers, shocked that Tim went to the trouble of making dinner. She basically bolts, but Tim's a fullback, Tim's got speed and strength and for once feels like tackling something that's not wearing a uniform, so he follows her out the door, calling after her right out there on the sidewalk, "I love you, Garrity!" Awwwww! He says it again. "I love you." Aw, baby. Lyla says she doesn't even know how she's supposed to respond to that, and Tim says, "Brutal honesty." Lyla proceeds with the brutal, but between you and me? I'm not sure how honest she is. She says, "Never gonna happen." He says if she will tell him she doesn't feel like he does, he'll move on. She repeats it back to him, rote, word for word, and turns away. Oh, man. Tim finally lays it all out and gets rejected. AGAIN. Shit!

During a putt-putt game with Christian later -- stark contrast to a certain sultry cantina threesome in Mexico -- Lyla spills her beans all over him. She confesses that she slept with Tim, saying it was "the worst thing" she ever did. Christian, being the Christlike figure he is, forgives her, saying he's glad she told him. He asks if she still has feelings for Tim, and she says, "No! No…no." Wow, that's one 'no' too many, there, Lyla. Sorry, babe, I believe that want to like this safe, sweet guy with no visible baggage. I also believe you want a guy who's not gonna get beat up by meth addicts for stealing three grand. But I'm not sure I believe you when you protest so much, so often.

Lyla shows up again at Tim's door later (where she's greeted by Billy and Tim with a baseball bat and a golf club, just in case she's Guy or Cooter) and hands Tim an envelope with three thousand dollars in it, saying she doesn't want him to keep getting beat up. Where'd Lyla get that kind of cash?!? Tim refuses it, but she drops the envelope on the floor inside. "I'm not coming back here anymore," she says. You know, they could marry this girl off to her Christian friend and I would still believe that in ten years' time, she, Tim, and Jason will be living together on that little ranch somewhere, Texas forevering. I hear what she's saying; I just don't believe her. Those big sparkly sparks are still there, folks, snapping just under the surface, and I feel confident that their story's not over… assuming he stays not dead.

Yeah, it gets ugly when Billy and Tim go to pay Guy and Cooter back the money they stole. Guy makes them come inside while he counts it, then Billy gets all up in Guy's face, pulling a big brother card that would have been much better played tracking Tim down when he was sleeping in his truck, and shouts at Guy that he'd better never touch Tim again. Oy. Love the sentiment, Billy; hate the execution (*winces at wording*). Guy and his merry meth band chase Billy and Tim out to the yard, and Guy levels a handgun at the driver's side window as Tim peels rubber and gets them the hell away. Is that the end of Massive Fuckup, The Sequel? Could we possibly be so lucky? I'd really like it if nobody ever again pointed a gun at my boy's ripped torso, thank you very much. I'd also really like it if you writers and you producers could please sit down at a table and hammer out your differences so I can have my last seven episodes. Come on, guys -- Life is short! You're worth it! Your penises will get bigger! Start the paperwork!

Note: Thanks go out to Meg for filling in for me last week -- great job, hon!