Friday Night Lights

Everything you need to know about “Friday Night Lights”

A complete primer on one of the best TV dramas about the fragile happiness of ordinary people

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Everything you need to know about Kyle Chandler, Connie Britton and Taylor Kitsch from "Friday Night Lights."

“Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.” These words, which Coach Taylor says to his football team right before they take the field, underscore the bittersweet premise of “Friday Night Lights” — that even with vision and passion, well-meaning people still fail and flounder and fall apart. But the words also hint at the nuanced blend of realism and romanticism that make “Friday Night Lights” such a unique, unforgettable show. From wheelchair-bound injured quarterback Jason Street to entitled rising star J.D McCoy, from self-destructive wild boy Tim Riggins to earnest but reserved Matt Saracen, from Coach Taylor’s wise but flustered wife, Tami, to their headstrong daughter Julie, the show explores how regular people pursue their dreams and sometimes sell those dreams short. The show offers up a road map of the heartbreaks and disappointments and injustices that lurk in small towns, but it also presents a glimpse of the redemption that can come from an old-fashioned mix of optimism and hard work.

Although “Friday Night Lights’” popularity suffered an almost career-ending injury in its second season when Tyra and Landry accidentally killed Tyra’s attacker, then hid the guy’s body in a river (typical high school high jinx!), the third and fourth seasons of the show (which premiered on DirecTV and then on NBC months later) matched the breathtaking sweetness and authenticity of the first.

Now that the fourth season is about to premiere on NBC (8 p.m. on Friday, May 7) it’s the perfect time for those who abandoned the show a few years ago to get up to speed. Coach Taylor is faced with starting a whole new team from the rubble of the resurrected but underfunded East Dillon High School, and many of the show’s original characters (Tyra, Jason Street, Smash Williams) have graduated high school and left the show. This leaves room for the introduction of a whole new slate of characters, from Vince, the troubled kid who also happens to have startling talent on the field, to Luke, the kid whose parents, unlike everyone else in the town, don’t understand or support his decision to play football.

Even with the departure of some great characters, “Friday Night Lights” continues to present transfixing, dynamic episodes that, without fail, include at least one scene that will have you reaching for that box of tissues. Peter Berg, Buzz Bissinger, Jason Katims and the other writers encourage the actors to move around and improvise as needed in order to create scenes that feel spontaneous and electric enough to give you the chills. Sounds impossible, yes, but like “The Wire” or “Six Feet Under,” you have to dive right in to understand what you’ve been missing.

SEASONS

Season 1

At the start of Season 1, we meet the new coach of Dillon High School’s football team, Eric Taylor, and his wife, Tami. Immediately we see the intense pressure on Taylor, who’s confronted by rabid football fans everywhere he goes in Dillon. During the first game of the season, star quarterback Jason Street is injured and sent to the hospital on a stretcher as a horrified crowd looks on. Jason can’t move his legs, but his girlfriend, cheerleader Lyla Garrity, is sure that he’ll recover if they both have faith in God. Meanwhile, Coach Taylor must turn to backup quarterback Matt Saracen, a soft-spoken, slightly geeky guy who lives with his grandmother while his father is away in Iraq. Matt practices throwing the ball with his buddy (and comic sidekick) Landry but it’s unclear how he’ll ever fill Street’s shoes. Meanwhile, Street’s best friend and teammate Tim Riggins finds himself falling for Lyla despite his better intentions. Brian “Smash” Williams, the star running back at Dillon, starts doing steroids so that he’ll be recruited and will eventually be able to support his mother. Matt falls for Coach Taylor’s daughter, Julie, despite her parents’ protests.

Lyla’s father, Buddy Garrity, a used car dealer and Dillon Panther booster, has an affair that’s discovered by her mother. Buddy is thrown out of the house and moves in with Coach Taylor temporarily. Jason discovers that Lyla and Tim are involved, and he tries to move on with his life despite being confined to a wheelchair. Toward the end of the season, Coach Taylor is offered a job as quarterback coach at Texas Methodist University, a dream job for him, but his family has no interest in moving to Austin now that their lives are firmly established in Dillon. In the season finale, the Panthers win the state championship, and Tami springs the news on Coach Taylor that she’s pregnant.

 Season 2

At the start of Season 2, Coach Taylor is working at TMU in Austin while his family is in Dillon, but he comes back to see Tami, who’s in labor with their baby. Taylor’s college position isn’t really as satisfying as he might like, and eventually he quits to be closer to his family. Tyra and Landry accidentally kill Tyra’s attacker when the man comes at them outside a gas station. They dump the body in the river at Tyra’s urging, but they both walk around freaking out and regretting their decision for weeks after that, and eventually Landry confesses to the police. Somehow, they escape prosecution (and the show escapes this terrible sensationalistic subplot).

While Lyla gets involved with an evangelical Christian group and develops a crush on its charismatic young leader, Jason looks into experimental surgery in Mexico that might restore his movement in his legs, but the doctors look like scam artists and he doesn’t go through with it. Meanwhile, the Dillon Panthers are struggling under their new coach. Eventually, Taylor is asked to replace him, but there’s still trouble: Tim misses practice and is kicked off the team; Smash gets in a fight with a white teenager who’s harassing his sister in a movie theater and recruiters start to look the other way, assuming he’s a troublemaker. But he’s not the only one who gets lost this season: Matt falls for his grandmother’s nurse and the two have an affair until she decides to move away, and Jason discovers that he got a woman pregnant. At the end of the season, the Panthers fail to win a second state championship under Coach Taylor.

Season 3

Coach Taylor has a hard time deciding whether to start Matt or his new freshman quarterback, J.D. McCoy, a rich kid whose family moved to Dillon just so their son could play for the Panthers under Taylor. Matt starts for a while, but eventually his playing is too uneven so Taylor puts in J.D., much to his annoying father’s delight. Smash is struggling with a knee injury and working at the Alamo Freeze full-time, thinking that his lifelong dreams of playing college football are about to die. But with some guidance from Coach Taylor, he starts to pull himself together, tries out for Texas A&M, and joins their team (and leaves the show). Tyra’s told that she’ll never get into college with her GPA, and she starts to blow off Landry in order to spend time with a cowboy named Cash, but by the end of the seasons she gets into the University of Texas (nice turnaround!) and leaves the show. Jason struggles with various get-rich-quick schemes and ultimately decides to leave Dillon for New York City to become a sports agent and spend time with his baby boy. Tim’s ne’er-do-well brother gets engaged to Tyra’s stripper sister, and Tim reunites with Lyla but she still has problems with his inability to take responsibility for his life. Matt isn’t sure whether or not to allow his estranged mother back into his life, but eventually rebuilds a relationship with her. Matt considers moving to Chicago for art school but worries about leaving his grandmother behind. Despite having a great season, Taylor learns that there’s talk of replacing him as coach, a movement led by J.D.’s meddling father, who wants his son’s coach to take over Taylor’s position.

CHARACTERS

Coach Eric Taylor (Kyle Chandler)

Coach Taylor epitomizes the bossy, bellowing coach that’s also, sometimes reluctantly, a sensitive mentor. He’s the pig-headed husband who’s also, occasionally, a sweet and caring partner to his wife, Tami. Scenes between Eric and Tami are so genuine, perfectly encapsulating the dance between bickering and compromise and eye-rolling exasperation and kindness that makes up a marriage. Chandler has the perfect, natural Southern drawl to imbue Eric with believable Texan warmth, and the actor brings so much charisma mixed with bumbling awkwardness to this role that he steals every scene he’s in.

Tami Taylor (Connie Britton)

Tami started out as the reluctant coach’s wife, but she’s far too independent and outspoken to play that role the way fans and boosters might expect her to. She began life in Dillon as the school’s guidance counselor, but she becomes more ambitious over the years. She takes over as principal of Dillon High and tries to keep wealthy boosters from dictating how their money is spent (on a Jumbotron for the football field, for example) when the school needs new books and better pay for its teachers. Tami has guided Tyra and other students to improve their lives despite having very few role models to show them what’s possible, but sometimes the stresses of the job are overwhelming for her, particularly with a baby at home. Britton brings Tami to life as a snappy loose cannon whose mix of easy confidence and vulnerability makes her impossible not to root for.

Julie Taylor (Aimee Teegarden)

Julie is the stubborn and occasionally rebellious daughter who has a good relationship with her parents, but sometimes clashes with both of them. Likewise, Julie alternates between wanting to follow her heart and make a relationship with Matt work, and thinking she’s way too young to settle down.

Jason Street (Scott Porter)

Quarterback Jason’s hopes and dreams were dashed when he was injured in the first game of the season his senior year. Although he was paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair, Jason’s optimism and work ethic have seen him through some terrible times, and watching him rebuild his life without compromising his ideals has been one of the highlights of the show. Street leaves the show in the middle of its third season to become a sports agent and to be close to his young son in New York City.

Matt Saracen (Zach Gilford)

Matt Saracen is the second-string quarterback who was forced to take over once Street was injured. Matt lives with his grandmother because his dad is away in Iraq. He’s been alienated from his mother, who left when he was younger, but rebuilds a relationship with her in Season 3. Matt is eminently likable — there’s something sweet and sad and lonely about him — and he tends to lead the team to victory on the field through sheer force of will rather than raw talent. Hardly a “Rudy” type of pugnacious, happy-go-lucky team mascot, Matt sometimes seems depressed, and he’s often at odds with the other members of the football team. At the start of Season 4, Matt has graduated from high school but he can’t quite figure out what to do with his life.

Lyla Garrity (Minka Kelly)

Lyla was in love with Jason Street and never questioned anything in her life, and then Jason had his accident, she cheated on him with Tim Riggins, and her father and mother got divorced. She briefly dated a nice Christian boy who was very active in his evangelical church, but then found herself back with bad boy Tim again. She’s never quite gotten over Tim, and she’s with him at the start of the fourth season, but she’s got major problems with his persistent inability to get his act together and get serious. Lyla isn’t the most compelling character on “FNL” and Kelly may have been the show’s weakest cast member in its first season, but her acting chops have improved dramatically since.

Tim Riggins (Taylor Kitsch)

Tim is the bad boy of the team and of the show. He’s got a coy, Southern-boy swagger that seems to appeal to every woman he meets, from the thirtysomething mom who lives next door to him to Lyla to Tyra to many, many others. Tim is a good kid at heart and tends to rally around any well-meaning underdog no matter how unpopular he or she might be, but he’s also got the self-sabotaging gene that makes him drink, engage in random crimes, and screw up big-time with clock-like regularity. Just when things are starting to look up for Tim, he messes it up. This makes him one of the most repetitive and predictable characters on the show, but thanks to that swagger, we don’t mind so much.

Tyra Collette (Adrienne Palicki)

Tyra is the female version of Tim — wild, irreverent, sly — but she’s troubled by her mother’s erratic behavior and her sister’s job at the strip club. Thanks to some encouragement from Tami, she tries to do a little better in school so she can break out of Dillon and pursue a real career beyond stripping or waiting tables. At the end of Season 3, Tyra is accepted to the University of Texas at Austin.

Brian “Smash” Williams (Gaius Charles)

Smash is that odd blend of passionate and self-aggrandizing that you often find in athletes; he has an insatiable hunger for victory and loads of talent, but that same hunger can lead him to make bad choices in his personal life. Smash is at once infuriating and heartbreaking: He has a close relationship with his mother and tries hard not to disappoint her. Underneath his bravado we see, time and again, that he simply wants to do right by his family and make enough money to take care of his mother. His mom just wants him to be happy, above all else. Not surprisingly, Smash and his mom are responsible for some of the most tear-jerking moments of the show. After experiencing a bunch of major setbacks in his quest to land a football scholarship at a powerhouse school, Smash departs in Season 3 to join the football team at Texas A&M.

Landry Clarke (Jesse Plemons)

Landry is just Matt Saracen’s sidekick until the second season, when his crush and subsequent relationship with Tyra lead him down a twisted path indeed. While their fantastical murder subplot was widely blamed for wrecking the show, his alternately stunned, stoical and panicked response to the pressure of his and Tyra’s crime always rang true. At the start of the fourth season, Landry is one of the only students who ends up at East Dillon High, and he becomes a kicker for the football team.

Buddy Garrity (Brad Leland)

Buddy is an alternately jolly and pitiable booster for the football team who’s either rallying to Coach Taylor’s side or screwing things up for him by applying too much pressure or voicing the sentiments of the booster/fan mob. In the first season, he has an ill-advised affair with Tyra’s mother when she comes to work for him, and although he begs his wife for forgiveness, she dumps him and quickly remarries. Buddy always puts a chipper face on things, but he has a hard time finding his footing in the wake of his divorce.

J.D. McCoy (Jeremy Sumpter)

The classic entitled rich kid, J.D. starts out vaguely sympathetic as the talented quarterback son of an overbearing overachiever dad, but during the fourth season, J.D. replaces his humility with contempt for other kids. J.D. is easy to dislike, particularly in contrast to the unassuming sweetness of Matt Saracen.

Vince Howard (Michael B. Jordan)

New in the fourth season, Vince is a troubled kid who’s forced to choose between juvenile detention and football. Although he’s inexperienced and his home life is a wreck, we see immediately how Howard will benefit from some mentoring from Coach Taylor.

Why was the first season of this show so good?

Well, if you watch the show you can see immediately what makes it so different from other shows: The camera moves around a lot and the actors improvise their lines around a general theme, resulting in strange, stuttered dialogue that feels a little more authentic than the dialogue on most typical dramas. Beyond those two obvious style choices, there were a bunch of great decisions that contributed to the show’s quality straight out of the gate: The cinematography was always fantastic, the music selections were great but not too obtrusive, and each episode offered a new angle on the town of Dillon, its people, its high school kids and their football team. Most of all, though, the show had obvious heart and soul. It’s hard to quantify that sort of thing, of course, but it was apparent in every scene. The emotional center of each scene was always explored more thoroughly than any plot device or gimmick.

Why was the second season of this show so bad?

The second season wasn’t horrible overall, but the subplot with Tyra and Landry throwing a dead body into the river was really, truly terrible for a number of reasons: 1) It went against the entire premise of the show — ordinary people, struggling against ordinary circumstances, 2) the scenes in question were neither all that well performed or that compelling despite their sensational nature, 3) the attempt to try to make covering up a murder appear to be an understandable mistake that any well-intentioned teenager could make not only failed, but it was a really bad choice to even try to pull this off in the first place. Unfortunately, instead of accidentally killing Tyra’s stalker, Tyra and Landry almost accidentally killed one of the most promising dramas on TV in its sophomore season.

Why should I watch this show after it sank so low?

Even the second season was worth watching, as long as you tried to ignore the bad scenes. And ever since that mistake, the writers have remained totally focused on stories that feel organic and authentic and don’t stray too far outside of the realm of regular folks. This is the strength of a show like “Friday Night Lights,” after all — instead of trotting out the most gruesome crimes or most horrific surgeries, this show traffics in the hopes of everyday people. On top of that, the fourth season is new in so many ways — new characters, new situations — that it won’t take that much work to catch up at this point, and the payoff is a truly original drama (which I don’t need to remind you is painfully rare on the small screen at this particular moment).

I don’t watch football at all. Why would I want to watch a show about football?

“Friday Night Lights” isn’t a show about football. While there are episodes, every now and then, that focus on a game, most of the time games are quick and dirty affairs that have everything to do with the plot of that particular show. For example, when Coach Taylor begins his new job at East Dillon High at the start of Season 4, we can see he has his work cut out for him with these ramshackle facilities, this brown scrubby field, these undisciplined, untrained kids. Yes, we’ve seen this story before elsewhere, but the show’s writers take it and make it all new for us, so much so that, by the time the first game rolls around, we’re dying to see how these kids will fare. The game serves as the personification of the challenges that the show’s characters are facing. That said, there’s not a lot of football on the show, all things considered. What matters far more than football, to these writers, is capturing the thrills and disappointments of high school, how all of your ups and downs feel so dramatic and important in that setting. This show manages to reveal high school as more than a punch line or a battlefield; it’s a place where young people find themselves, really, and align themselves with each other (and against each other) based on what they find. 

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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