In any case, The Flash resents this and says that he reaches out to Dawson, but he also tries to give Dawson his space, and Dawson complains that when he takes that space, The Flash gets pissed off. The Flash shoots back, "No, I'm just trying to break you out of your self-centered, self-righteous fantasy world long enough to look out for other people." Well said, Flash. Dawson wonders when it became his responsibility to look out for The Flash: "I'm saying I parent you, Dad. I walk in on you having sex, I give you advice. I'm the kid around here, and sometimes I might even act like it!" The Flash stares at him, and yet again he does not pound his arrogant son into the ground with a wooden mallet, and I don't know why. The Violin Of Familial Discord sounds in the background. Dawson flares his nostrils. Stare. Flare. Stare. Flare.
After a brief commercial break, during which I arrayed every knife in my kitchen on the table in front of me in ascending order of sharpness, the better to keep myself awake during the interminable football scenes to follow, we fade up on the field. Jack catches a ball, Kerr Smith's body double gets sacked, lather, rinse, repeat. During one vicious pile-on, a member of the opposing team snarls at Jack, "Go back to tetherball, ya limp-wristed homo." Then he clocks Jack with an iron skillet. Oh, sorry, that was the writers clocking me with an iron skillet. On the head. Again. Anyhow. In the stands, Jen and Dawson look worried; on the sidelines, The Flash shouts orders and tells Jack to "walk it off." Jack cracks wise to The Flash under his breath. Dawson asks Jen if the debacle on the field is all his fault. Jen says, "In a word -- yes." Once again, I must say in Dawson's defense that I could spend an entire day listing things that Dawson is to blame for, and the debacle on the field would rank dead last. I mean, who outed Jack? Mr. Peterson. Who made him join the football team? The Flash. Who aired the story? The Hussy. Did Jack refuse to participate? No. Did Dawson encourage the anti-gay attitudes of the other team? No. Did the writers reach into the barrel with a long-handled spatula and scrape the bottom until they came up with something, anything, to stretch out Jack's subplot without having to write a man-man kiss into the script? Yes. In short, whatever. Jen goes on to say that at least Dawson won't have to kiss a guy with "furry teeth and halitosis" after the game. Shut up, Jen.