Friday Night Lights

Bright lights, big pity

The low-rated but brilliant drama "Friday Night Lights" needs a Hail Mary pass from NBC if it's going to see a second season.

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Bright lights, big pity

I wasn’t a huge football fan in high school, but there was something special about a home game on a Friday night. When those glowing lights over the stadium would come on as the sun was setting orange and pink on the horizon, I was always glad that I came. It didn’t matter if we won or lost (we usually lost), what mattered was that the field looked bright green under the lights and the fall air had a chill and you could hear a cadence of drums in the distance as the marching band approached. No matter how much I hated high school that day, it all melted away and suddenly it felt good to be 16 years old, to have a taste of that little-fish small-pond romanticism you get when you recognize half the people in the crowd and feel like a part of it all. When the lights came on and the band started up, the world felt big and colorful and full of promise.

Nothing has ever come close to capturing that feeling for me until the premiere of NBC’s “Friday Night Lights” last fall (8 p.m. Wednesdays), a drama that tackles the sweetness and the awkwardness of high school like no other show I’ve ever seen. In fact, compared to the originality and realism of “Friday Night Lights,” other TV shows about high school look as idealized and as silly as an Archie comic book. Instead of trading witty banter and landing neat punches to the jaw, the kids on “Friday Night Lights” have stilted, clumsy conversations in which they stare at their shoes and giggle and try to act like they’re not completely confused and overwhelmed. Like real teenagers, they hold down crappy jobs, worry about how to act around other kids, second-guess their decisions, and fumble into dysfunctional friendships. They don’t know how to talk to their parents, and their parents don’t know how to talk to them.

Based on the book by H.G. Bissinger and the movie directed by Peter Berg (who’s also an executive producer on the show), “Friday Night Lights” focuses on football mostly as a means of accessing a rich web of relationships in a small town in Texas. That said, the absurd importance of high school football to the townspeople and the arbitrary nature of the wins and losses of the team coincide nicely with the premise that the writers are only beginning to explore, something about the pull of big, unrealistic hopes and dreams on a bunch of kids who are surrounded by evidence that dreams don’t come true all that often. At the center of the story is fallen quarterback Jason Street (Scott Porter), who became a paraplegic after a bad tackle during the opening game of the season. The team’s attempts to get second-string quarterback Matt Saracen (Zach Gilford) up to speed are presented in parallel with Street’s struggle to transcend his apparent fate as a tragic story that ended on the football field that day. Coach Eric Taylor (Kyle Chandler) is wracked by guilt over Street’s injury, but he’s forced to push his guys to a state championship at all costs, for the sake of the school and the town, and simply to keep food on the table for his family. The continued presence of Street in the story tells you something about the courageous ambiguity of the show: What other TV show about sports would dare to allow a severely injured former quarterback to linger at the edge of the frame at all times, thereby shedding a nagging light of doubt on the unrelenting thirst for victory on such a small stage?

And what other show would not only take on a conversation between a mother and a daughter about sex, but make it feel honest and nerve-wracking and incredibly charged? After Tami Taylor (Connie Britton), the coach’s wife, spots her daughter Julie’s boyfriend buying condoms at the drugstore, she tries to have a calm conversation with Julie (Aimee Teegarden), but you can feel her anxiety and she ends up blurting out her worst fears:

Tami: Are you and Matt Saracen having sex?

Julie: No. (Pause.) We’re thinking about it.

Tami: You’re thinking about it. Are you thinking about pregnancy? Are you thinking about sexually transmitted diseases?

Julie: Well, I mean, obviously that’s why he was buying condoms.

Tami: I see, so you’re just buying condoms … so then when you buy condoms that makes you ready to make love with somebody…

Julie: (smiling) Making love!

Tami: (Close to tears) Don’t do that! Don’t you smirk at me right now, I am very upset! You are not allowed to have sex! You’re 15 years old!

Julie: I just, I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s just one body part going into another…

Tami: No, it’s not. It’s not just one body part going into another part. And the fact that you think it’s just one body part going into another body part makes me real clear on the fact that you really are not ready for this. And I need you to be able to hear that. I need you be able to hear me say that to you.

Julie: I’m listening to you.

Tami goes on to warn her daughter, through tears, that if she starts having sex without taking it seriously, she could end up feeling degraded and hardened and cynical — all of which would surely seem overwrought, if not for the fact that Britton’s performance is mesmerizing and hits so close to the bone, you can feel it. For Tami, this isn’t about control — you can see that in the way she speaks to Julie — it’s about her own past. She knows what a messy road her daughter is about to walk down, and it scares her to death.

As with most scenes on “Friday Night Lights,” this one feels incredibly immediate and electric. It’s one of the only conversations between a parent and a teenager that I’ve ever seen on TV where the audience isn’t clearly supposed to take one side or the other. We’re afforded an affecting, complicated snapshot of the relationship: Julie is a good kid who’s already decided to have sex and feels that she has the right to; her mom is a good parent who can’t stand the thought of it and can’t stop from sounding shrill and overbearing because she can’t control her emotions on the subject.

But then, every week “Friday Night Lights” features a truly memorable scene, the kind of scene that you can’t imagine working on any other drama. The odd, seemingly improvised dialogue and shooting style of the show, which co-executive producer Jeffrey Reiner described to Entertainment Weekly as “no rehearsals, no blocking, just three cameras and we shoot,” brings out the intimacy of each scene. The shaky cameras and extreme close-ups that plague so many other shows actually work here, giving us the sense that we’re eavesdropping on a heated conversation between strangers. The dialogue has a natural, halting pace, and the camera movement focuses our attention on the weight and meaning of each word. We don’t just watch these interactions, we experience them, getting caught up in the misunderstandings and tensions and longings that are uncovered in the process.

The young actors on the show have really grown into its odd style. While Gilford, who plays the earnest, shy quarterback Saracen, seemed to have a natural talent for the aw-shucks qualities of his role from the start, some of the other actors had a shaky beginning — Minka Kelly, who plays fallen quarterback Street’s girlfriend, Lyla, seemed a little false at first, but now she’s utterly convincing as the optimistic but sometimes naive romantic. Similarly, Porter has done a great job evoking the anger and confusion of going from star quarterback to outcast overnight. And Gaius Charles has really shined as hot-shot receiver Smash Williams; he’s evolved along with his character into a conflicted, sometimes immature kid with good intentions that are sometimes clouded by his huge ego.

Best of all, though, are the interactions between coach Taylor and his wife, Tami. Every scene between the two is lively and flirtatious but also edgy and snippish, perfectly capturing the imperfect, bickering energy of a good marriage, where two people are good friends and depend on each other completely, but aren’t afraid to say it when they disagree. When coach Taylor is faced with a tough decision about whether to fire one of his assistant coaches for making ignorant remarks that many interpreted as racist, he goes to his wife, who’s the counselor at the high school, for advice. But as he speaks to her, he realizes that he really wants her to back his choice not to fire the guy.

Tami: As a guidance counselor, I gotta say, that, to me, is a fireable offense. What he said.

Eric: All right, let me talk to my wife. Let me talk to the person who cares about me and cares about the team and also has to understand the relevance and the importance to our future of us winning the regional.

Tami: There is nothing more clear to me. Your team is way more important to you than Mac McGill.

Eric: Is there anyone else I can talk to?

The humor and energy in scenes like this one make other dramas seem limp and silly in comparison. Yet, “Friday Night Lights” continues to struggle for good ratings, regularly getting crushed by “American Idol” on Wednesday nights.

But then, marketing-wise, “Friday Night Lights” is in an impossible position. The show appears to be about football, potentially turning off plenty of possible viewers who aren’t into sports. And even with those fans, TV shows about sports have a long history of failing miserably. On top of that, the show actually focuses on far heavier and more complicated subject matter — parenting, adultery, alcoholism, racism — potentially turning off viewers who are into football. This is the Catch-22 of any narrative that needs to find a wide audience to survive: The more complicated and difficult to describe it is, the more challenging it is to lure in a big enough audience. If the show had a really bad, obvious name like “Tumbletown, TX” and it appeared on the CW, maybe it would be another “Smallville” or “Everwood” — a modest hit with a clear group of loyal fans. Forget that “Friday Night Lights” is much better than either of those shows. It’s a confusing, complex drama that’s sort of about football, but sort of not, and that makes it a hard sell. Americans may love football, but they aren’t exactly big fans of ambiguity.

If only more people knew what a rare and beautiful thing they’re missing: a drama that sets the bar much higher than it has to, daring to take on the romance and heartbreak of being a teenager with honesty, compassion and wit. The writers don’t take shortcuts with pointless fisticuffs and cliques and ironic asides; they stick to the emotional center of the story at all times. As a result, over the course of its short season (which ends on Wednesday, April 11 — well before May sweeps, which isn’t a good sign for its survival), “Friday Night Lights” has evolved from a strikingly original, lively little story about a football team to an evocative portrayal of life in a small American town, a narrative with so much sweetness and authenticity to it that, once you abandon yourself to its undeniable charms, you’ll find it has the power to make you cringe and grit your teeth and laugh and cry each week, without fail.

How could a show with so much depth and soul possibly get canceled? Sure, it’s happened before, but something about the spirit of “Friday Night Lights” makes me hope against hope that this time, the good guys will bring home the trophy. As the Dillon Panthers say at the start of every game, “Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose!” Let’s hope that this time, they’re right.

Heather Havrilesky is Salon's TV critic and author of the rabbit blog. Her memoir, "Disaster Preparedness," published in 2010.

Pop Torn: This week in cultural ambivalence

We're on the fence about: Fake teeth tattoos, Paula Abdul's inner warrior, "Friday Night Lights'" secret endgame

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Pop Torn: This week in cultural ambivalenceYour weekly dose of popsam and jetsam.

Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, and I have to make sure that I have no idea what is going on with those Republican debates. Is Michele Bachmann winning? Is that why her scary face was on Newsweek? Oh man, what a world, what a world. Oh, and London burned down too! Come on, Earth, get it together!

If you’ve had enough of the depressing news for the week, feast those things in your ocular cavities on these 10 pop culture stories that we’ve culled from the Internet and beyond! (But mostly the Internet.) They aren’t here to make you feel OK again, but maybe they’ll take your mind off the fact that the world is going to hell in a hand basket.

1. Clear eyes, full hearts, secret speech?: Entertainment Weekly has the mother of all Easter Eggs in the form of a special finale pep talk from Coach Taylor on “Friday Night Lights” that was supposed to play over the end sequence. Well, here it is, in all its gruff-but-lovable glory. (Though it is kind of awkward, the way he talks about never forgetting the feeling of “that hot breeze slapping my face.”)

2. All about the Bitcoins: If you haven’t heard about the Internet’s new form of currency that takes hundreds of dollars in computer equipment to “mine” and is vulnerable to hackers stealing all your fortune in fake (but kind of real?) money, count yourself lucky. Or just read this story.

3. Arnold Schwarzenegger is a fashion icon and a really great guy:

I wonder if he had this shirt custom-made, or if he found it in a Salvation Army or something. Maybe Marie is the name of a new ride at Six Flags?

4. Paula Abdul wants to be the new Khaleesi: It’s common knowledge that Paula is a little cuckoo for cocoa puffs, so why anyone would take on a job as her assistant is beyond me. Maybe it’s so they can come back and report how the “X-Factor” judge needs to have her entourage constantly remind her that she’s a “warrior, survivor and gift.” Dragons!

5. Dissecting the Coens: David Haglund over at Slate watched every single Coen brothers movie. (Who hasn’t?) At first he thought they were self-indulgent. Then he thought they didn’t make any sense. Finally he came to the conclusion that we aren’t supposed to like these characters-bordering-on-caricatures, and it was all a broad, meandering metaphor for real life. Kind of like this article is for a Coen brothers film. Wait … brilliant!

6. Fergie, Duchess of York, can’t make it through a whole interview: I guess we’ll have to wait until Australia’s “60 Minutes” on Sunday to find out what made Fergie “go off the rails.” (Though we kind of already know it’s the infamous 2010 tape where she begs for money to see Prince Andrew.)

We can only hope the reporter didn’t try something akin to that Dalai Lama joke. You know how those Australian newscasters are. Where is Barbara Walters when you need her?

 

7. Mark Zuckerberg dares to call “Chill” Facebook app “lame”: Guys, not to freak you out, but the fallout from this could be devastating. Especially because the Zuck wasn’t talking about FarmVille.

8. Bizarro Twitterverse even scarier than the real thing: Check out “fake Twitter” site Heello. It’s by the same guy who founded Twitpic, but it’s a hell of a lot weirder. Though honestly Twitter is such a mess sometimes that reading a CNN tweet all in caps about Justin Bieber doesn’t seem that out of the ordinary.

9. Temporary teeth tattoos for everyone! (But mostly the Japanese):

At least they are a step up from those real teeth tattoos? Or maybe they are like a gateway drug for permanent images that look like red rot on your chompers. Moms, don’t let your kids start putting decals on their baby teeth, or else they will grow up to be this guy.

10. That “Russian Dolls” show actually happened and you missed it: You probably skipped the premiere to watch “Jersey Shore,” right? Shame on you! There is a whole world out there of trashy cultures you have yet to experience! Well, here’s the first episode in its entirety. Try to keep up, it moves fast. Brighton Beach forever!

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Drew Grant is a staff writer for Salon. Follow her on Twitter at @videodrew.

Five pop culture items we missed

Today's catch: Another "Friday Night Lights" film, "The Firm" as a TV show, and Von Trier going hardcore

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Five pop culture items we missedHappy "Spy" Day!

1. Ouroboros of the day: NBC’s cult series “Friday Night Lights” may have ended, but show execs have just confirmed a film script is in the works. So this movie will be based on the popular TV series that was a reimagining of the 2004 film of the same name, which was already adapted from Buzz Bissinger’s nonfiction book. Just so we won’t be confused when we order from Amazon.

2. Weird TV show concept of the day: In an opposite move from “FNL,” NBC will be picking up “The Firm,” a series based on the Tom Cruise movie taken from the John Grisham book. The cast is stellar — Juliette Lewis, Josh Lucas, Molly Parker from “Deadwood” — but how much mileage can they get from a plot where the audience already knows the twist ending?

3. Anniversary of the day: On the tail of MTV turning 30, Mad magazine’s “Spy vs. Spy” series celebrates its 50th birthday today. Wait, they’re still making “Spy vs. Spy” stories? And they are turning it into a movie? Hopefully it will be based on the video game based on the cartoon based on the comic strip.

4. Raise of the day: After rounds of negotiation, Jennifer Lopez will be bleeding a fortune out of someone other than Marc Anthony. Her new paycheck for another season of “American Idol” will be “a smidge over” $20 million for the season … which is $8 million more than she made last year as a judge.

5. Art porn of the day: Lars Von Trier may be shooting his latest film “Nymphomaniac” in two forms: hardcore and softcore. But if “Antichrist” was his version of a softcore film, I don’t even want to know what he’d put in an X-rated feature.

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Drew Grant is a staff writer for Salon. Follow her on Twitter at @videodrew.

A bittersweet farewell to “Friday Night Lights”

After five seasons of fighting to stay on TV against all odds, the extraordinary show airs its last episode tonight

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A bittersweet farewell to

The final episode of “Friday Night Lights” airs tonight, ending a scrappy five season run. It took the DirecTV satellite network co-financing the show — in a unique deal that allowed it to air “Friday Night Lights” before NBC — to keep it on the air. So for Satellite subscribers the story of Dillon, Texas, has been concluded for months. For “Lights” fans, those concluding episodes — and the delirious reviews they garnered — have been a kind of shadow broadcast, a resonance from the void. The show has been haunted by its own ghost, these last weeks. It was kind of appropriate. This cat had only five lives, after all — not nine, and it’s lived in the shadow of its own mortality for every one of them.

It was never a hit. It always lacked the ingredients of escapism and weekly closure that make for profitable network comfort food. But that was what we loved about it. In the very first episode, golden boy quarterback Jason Street seems headed for a college scholarship and a legendary career in the NFL. He even looks a little like Tom Brady. Then Jason throws an interception and tries to tackle the other team’s free safety, as he runs it back for the touchdown. Jason makes the tackle but injures himself catastrophically. By the end of the show’s pilot we know that Jason Street has become a paraplegic. Peter Berg, the show’s creator, said somewhere that the NBC executives couldn’t quite believe this development. “He gets better, right?” They kept saying. “When does he walk again?”

“He doesn’t,” Berg told them.

And he didn’t. Instead the first three seasons of the show dramatized this extraordinary young man’s valiant efforts to come to terms with his handicap — from trying out for a professional wheelchair rugby (he didn’t make the team) to working as an assistant coach to Eric Taylor and selling cars for Buddy Garrity, his girlfriend’s father. Nothing works out for Jason until he lands a job as a sports agent late in the series. You can see how his persistence and passion could make him a success in that field. Along the way he loses the lovely Lyla Garrity to his best friend Tim Riggins, but not before Buddy explains in no uncertain terms that he won’t allow his daughter to throw her life away on a cripple.

“Friday Night Lights” was a show about a town, not just a football team, and Buddy Garrity is a perfect example of the program’s depth and humanity. He starts out as a loudmouthed overweight mover and shaker, the classic big fish in a small pond — plankton in a thimble. He’s a salesman to the core, and the biggest booster of the Dillon Panthers, lobbying for a bigger stadium and a Jumbotron … while the school can’t even seem to find chalk for the blackboards. This is an echo of the real Odessa, Texas, where Buzz Bissinger lived for a year while writing the original book-length reportage. His harsh view of a dirt-poor, football-crazed town earned him so much hatred that his cousin Peter Berg had to apologize, beg and grovel to shoot the film there. He kept his word: The movie was kinder to Odessa. The TV show left it entirely, setting its stories in a wholly fictional town that somehow seems more real than its actual counterpart, a fully realized setting, as vivid as Grover’s Corners or Winesburg, Ohio.

It’s a place where things don’t turn out well, as a rule. Buddy has an affair and gets divorced, loses his car dealership, and winds up running a local bar, trying to raise his estranged son alone. The smart people, like his daughter Lyla, get the hell out of town. Tim Riggins lives the apex of his life as a football star and then just drifts. His dream of “living large in Texas” with football star pal Jason Street falls apart before they even graduate from high school. He tries college and fails — he only got through high school because of local nerd Landry Clarke’s relentless tutoring. He winds up running a chop shop with his brother and going to jail to protect him.

In any normal TV show, when Tim came out of jail he would have changed for the better — taken some college courses, or found Jesus like Lyla did. He would have met some jailhouse mentor who would have steered him straight or given him connections for a better life on the outside. Not on “Friday Night Lights.” Riggins returns from jail bitter and angry, even more lost than he was before. If Tim finds any peace now, in the show’s closing minutes, it will be in tiny increments — reconnecting with his old girlfriend Tyra, giving up his crazy dream of working on the Alaska pipeline, coming to terms with his brother. It’s not much but it’s what we’ve come to expect from a show that never blinks as it stares down the harsh facts of real life. The moment last week when Tim, working behind the bar at Garrity’s, watched his old team-mate Smash Williams on TV score a touchdown for his college team reverberated with the whole history of their troubled friendship, and all the years we’ve spent with them in Dillon.

Matt Saracen is another good example of the subtle way “Friday Night Lights” uses the high school players to reveal the life of the town around them. Matt is in love with the Coach’s daughter, and the primary custodian for his grandmother, who is slipping into Alzheimer’s. Matt’s father is serving in Iraq and his return to town only reveals the unbridgeable gap between him and his son. Even the eventual funeral doesn’t solve or soothe anything. Matt is angry and frustrated and that’s the whole of his patrimony.

Fathers are scarce in Dillon anyway — star running back Smash Williams’ father is dead, Tim Riggins’ dad is just gone. Season three quarterback J.D. McCoy’s father Joe is an overbearing prick; season five quarterback Vince Howard’s father is a drug-dealing ex-con. The mothers carry the burden of raising their kids, from force of nature Corinna Willams to fragile Regina Howard.

The primary intact family on the show is Coach Taylor’s. Eric and his wife Tami have the best, most believable, most nuanced and realistic marriage in the history of network television. The day-to-day struggle of their relationship — Tami’s eighteen years of being a coach’s wife — feel inspiring daunting and familiar to anyone who has tried to raise a family under less than perfect conditions.

It’s a dense, teeming world, developed lovingly over half a decade, and because there’s no “hook” to the show (except high school football) it’s always been a hard sell, and not just for network advertising departments. I tried to get my ex-wife Kim to watch the show for years with no success. Even when it won a Peabody award she was unmoved. She just had no interest in football of any kind — but especially high school football. Nantucket, where we live, is almost as crazy about the sport (Go Whalers!) as Odessa, Texas, and indeed Buzz Bissinger who knows the island well, was originally planning to write his book about our town.

In desperation I gave Kim the DVD of the “Friday Night Lights” first season for Christmas one year. She never watched it. The next Christmas, after the presents were unwrapped and we were trying to digest the home-made sticky-buns, we were rummaging for something to watch and I found the still shrink-wrapped DVD in the cupboard under the television. Busted. She had no choice at that point.

Well, we watched the fist six episodes that day. Finally I had to leave. When I stopped by the next day Kim was upstairs watching season two on her computer.

Victory!

She’s mourning with the rest of us and she’ll be watching tonight along with a small dedicated group of die hard fans, as “Friday Night Lights” closes down its fragile, miraculous five-year run. Its audience over the years would have been enough to make a cable show like “Breaking Bad” into AMC’s biggest hit ever. It would have been enough to make any novel a bestseller to rival “Harry Potter” or “Gone With the Wind.” But it was on NBC, and it barely scraped by.

But the fact remains that watching this show felt like reading a novel, with a level of immersion that it takes hundred of pages of prose to achieve. This morning I’m feeling the same bittersweet dread I’ve felt so many times before, turning the last pages of books as diverse but enveloping as “The Lord of the Rings” or “The Corrections.”

I hate to leave Dillon, Texas, a fly-over fly speck I would never would have even wanted to visit in real life. Now I feel like some part of me will always be there.

Cancellation is a defeat, but this unlikely show had tremendous spirit, and admirers who fought for it, and it wound up doing much better than anyone ever predicted… just like the wrong-side-of-the-tracks Dillon Lions football team that Coach Taylor took to the state championships in this final season.

Win or lose, just getting there was a triumph, and you could say the same thing about these remarkable five seasons of “Friday Night Lights”.

Or as Coach Taylor always said, rallying his troops: Clear eyes, full hearts — can’t lose.

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Five pop culture items we missed

Today's catch: "Glee's" graduating class, an oral history of "Friday Night Lights," and turning a highway into art

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Five pop culture items we missed

1. Not-so-”Gleeful” news of the day: Chris Colfer, Lea Michele and Corey Monteith won’t be returning for a fourth season of “Glee.” Ostensibly, they’d be graduating, right? What, did everyone else fail high school?

2. S’Paz of the day: “Empire Boardwalk’s” Paz de la Huerta got more than a slap on the wrist for her bar brawl back in April. Though prosecutors were going to let her off on the condition she enter an alcohol treatment program and do a couple of days of community service, Judge Diana Boyar said Paz had to be evaluated by a rehab facility before she signed off on the deal.

3. “Friday” of the day: Grantland has compiled an oral history of “Friday Night Lights’” successes — and failures — throughout the years.

4. Fashionista of the day: Kanye West, who certainly knows a thing or two when it comes to coordinating your bling, may be designing a womenswear line for Fashion Week this fall.

5. Conceptual art of the day: This is what happens when you dump a lot of paint in the middle of a busy street, as demonstrated by Berlin bikers last year.

Yay for art, but who the hell is going to clean this mess up?

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Drew Grant is a staff writer for Salon. Follow her on Twitter at @videodrew.

“Friday Night Lights” life lessons: You are going to fail

What NBC's football drama can teach you about swallowing your pride and losing with dignity

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FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS -- Episode 103 -- Pictured: Kyle Chandler as Coach Eric Taylor -- NBC Photo: Dean Hendler(Credit: Dean Hendler)

While not the biggest fan of sports culture, I was hooked on the show “Friday Night Lights” from its premiere episode. The soaring music that crescendoed when a ball was mid-air was somehow just as mesmerizing as watching Taylor Kitsch take off his shirt.

Now that the show is in its final season on NBC (though technically the finale played back in February on DIRECTV), there’s no denying that the tragically under-awarded series has been held together by some amazing performances. In particular, Kyle Chandler as the stoic Coach Eric Taylor has imparted five years of wisdom, not all of it about football. What has Coach T. really taught us? He taught us all how to fail, and how to fail well.

Here are some “Friday Night Light” tips for when you lose at life.

1. Get rid of that pride, boy

In the “devil town” of Dillon, everyone must eventually answer for their sins. Whether its conning your church out of money to buy steroids, making an off-handed racist remark to the press, or screwing your crippled best friend’s girlfriend — and hey, we’re still in season one! – there is no moral or ethical slip that goes unpunished on “Friday Night Lights.”

And while that could turn another type of show into a real downer, Coach T. is always there to pick you up when you fall … as long as your hubris doesn’t stand in the way. When QB Matt Saracen skips practice to get drunk at the local strip club in season two, and misses his grandmother’s trip to the hospital (yikes), it’s hard to imagine anyone getting back on their feet from that kind of screw up. But as Coach knows, there’s nothing like an ice-water bath and some primal crying to start the healing process.

On the other end of the spectrum, you have the McCoy family: with son J.D. too proud (or scared) to break away from his over-achieving, physically abusive father and side with the protective coach, he ends up taking on more and more of his old man’s nasty qualities. Both Matt and J.D. make bad decisions because of their daddy issues, but only Matt is strong enough to ask for help. Guess who ends up better off in the end?

2. If you’re going to lose, lose honorably

The Panthers lost the state championships at the end of Season 3, and it cost Coach T. his job at the school. That’s the part of life where most people would give up and crawl under the covers with a bottle of Xanax. But Eric Taylor knows he made the right call by benching J.D. and putting Matt in, even if that meant losing the game and hurting his career.

This theme is repeated off the field as well: Tim Riggins going to jail for his brother when the police raid their chop-shop; Lyla Garrity continuing her cheerleading after her affair with Tim makes her a social pariah; Jason giving up his dreams in order to raise the child he accidentally fathered. After all, losing is half the game, and as Tami Taylor puts it, “Either way, the sun is going to come up the next morning.” Sure, it’s a rehashed line from “Annie,” and the point is even more cliché, but it still holds water … win or lose, in life it’s all about how you play the game.

3. Surround yourself with your people

Even Coach Taylor isn’t infallible, and when he does screw up, he has the support of his team, his family, and even Buddy Garrity to rely on. No one on “Friday Night Lights” can do it alone, and woe to the person who tries to remain tough and aloof when trouble comes knocking. Everyone on the show has to learn this lesson – some people like Tim Riggins have to learn it over and over – but the nice thing about football metaphors is that they work even when you’ve heard them a thousand times before. There is just no “I” in Taylor’s team.

Unfortunately, that does means the show occasionally takes a small-town mentality when it comes to characters trying to leave Dillon to move on with a life past high school football. This is usually shown as a bad decision, like when Coach goes to teach college ball at the end of season one, or when Riggins goes to college. Whatever happens to Jason Street or Smash or Lyla after they head out into the big scary world is their own affair … by leaving the Dillon nest, they are removed from the sacred circle privy to Coach’s pep-talks. We can only imagine that they’re all gutter junkies now, turning tricks and wishing that they’d stayed in Texas.

4. Failure is a state of mind

Living in Dillon isn’t easy. This is doubly so if you live in East Dillon, which is so completely different from (West?) Dillon that it’s basically “The Wire’s” portrayal of Baltimore dropped down in the south. East Dillon is so messed up that no one on the show really even talks about its existence until a Katrina-like natural disaster somehow decimates the poor, black side of town (but not the affluent suburban area). Or when Coach T. is exiled to run the East Dillon Lions as punishment for not throwing himself at the mercy of Mr. McCoy. But looking around the decimated playing field of East Dillon High, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor make their first move together: picking up the garbage strewn on the grass, one piece at a time.

By the end of the fifth season, the Lions are the new Panthers, thanks to tough love from a coach who won’t let his team be defined by their poor track record, bad attitudes, or shady after-school activities. If you want to act like a coward, you best get the hell off the field and out of the coach’s house.

5. …except when it isn’t

On “Friday Night Lights,” almost every episode includes a character learning something about themselves and becoming better for it: a better friend, a better son or daughter, a better teammate. But for all the emotional manipulation that the show cleverly steeps itself in, it grounds itself with the memory of its very first episode, when star quarterback Jason Street is paralyzed from an injury during a game. Sometimes life is suffering, princess, and there is no way you can “better yourself” out of the pain.

Coach T.’s voice leading the team in prayer at the end of the pilot episode sums this up better than I ever could:

“Give all of us gathered here tonight the strength to remember that life is so very fragile. We are all vulnerable. And we will all, at some point in our lives, fall. We will all fall. We must carry this in our hearts: that what we have is special, and that it can be taken from us. And when it is taken from us, we will be tested. We will be tested to our very souls.

We will now all be tested. It is at these times, it is this pain, that allows us to look inside ourselves.”

In other words: just because you can’t fix it, doesn’t mean you can’t grow from it. Clear eyes, full hearts … yes, even if you lose.

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Drew Grant is a staff writer for Salon. Follow her on Twitter at @videodrew.

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