No such luck, though. Dawson comes in without knocking and leans on the doorjamb to deliver a self-obsessed monologue on how he saw Mr. Brooks's yearbook and read the caption about wanting to become a Hollywood filmmaker, and it's a "pretty striking coincidence" since he's wanted the same thing ever since he could remember and blah bloopety bling. "Good for you," Mr. Brooks says acidly, scratching his ear. "It scared the hell out of me," Dawson says intensely, because "I don't ever want to be like you." Don't worry, Dawson. Mr. Brooks is cool, so there's really nothing for you to fear. Dawson goes on to say that he doesn't want to "be the kind of person" who pushes people away; he doesn't "want to be alone," and he knows that Mr. Brooks doesn't want to be alone either. Mr. Brooks can't get rid of him, he says. Poor Mr. Brooks. I can empathize. Mr. Brooks stares at him as Dawson says that what works on other people won't work on him, so he's come back to finish the job Mr. Brooks hired him for, and while Dawson probably thinks that that's noble, it's really because Dawson couldn't take a hint if it arrived at the table on a bed of lettuce. Dawson takes off his coat. Mr. Brooks gets up from the couch, but doesn't say anything. What. Ever.
Interrogation room. Jack says that, somehow, the team won the game; superimposed over his face, we see Plan Molly From Outer Space stopping a shot on goal. The whistle blows to signal the end of play, and everyone runs out onto the field to celebrate. Lead Dad approaches Jack, trailed by an enforcer from The Homophobic Dad Gaggle, and drops a bunch of science on Jack about future tie games and how goals scored show up in the eventual tally and Molly's to blame if they tie the Falcons and blah blah. Jack laughs it off, saying that in that case they'll just have to beat the Falcons as well. Lead Dad tells him that he can't beat the Falcons because he's no longer the coach "of this team." Molly, her face crumpling as if to cry, looks back and forth between Lead Dad and Jack as Lead Dad grunts, "You're done, McPhee," and stomps off. The Homophobic Dad Gaggle enforcer stands there, simpering. Molly bursts into tears and runs off. Her sister gives chase. Jen comes up: "They didn't." Jack, bleakly: "Yep. Yep, they just did." In comes The Flute Of Dismay as Jen touches a hand to her forehead and Jack scuffs the ground with his toe. Jen hugs Jack. The camera dollies up. After an eternity, the director says, "Cut."