Coach Taylor finds Bud making photocopies of the playbook for Voodoo in his office, and all of a sudden hackles are up all over the place. "You got a problem with that now?" Bud demands. Taylor says he just likes to know what's going on in his office. "Like I like to know what's going on with my offense." Bud objects to the insinuation, I object to the amateurish wordplay, and Taylor objects to "[his] offensive coordinator chatting up Buddy Garrity like he's on a date." Bud gets right up in Taylor's face at that, saying it's none of his business. "You think I want your job, right?" Bud says. "Well, you're damn right I do. The way I see it, you're sitting in my chair." Bud insists that he wants to win, just like Taylor. "These are my boys too. So you pull it together. You got that?" Bud storms out of Taylor's office with his copies of the playbook. Enjoy being the boss for about five seconds there, did you, Bud?
I'm just going to tell you now that for the rest of the episode, we're going to be starting out each act with Tyra/Connor scenes. It's almost as if they realize this whole subplot is completely extraneous and they want to get these scenes out of the way as quick as possible. Or at least give you a little more time to come back from your commercial-break bathroom trips. So here we are. It looks like Connor ended up going out into the oil fields by himself, because he's out there meeting with a couple of hard-hatted, coveralled guys, using the open tailgate of a pickup as a conference table. I can't really hear them talking, but the closed captioning of Connor's speech informs us that Dillon is a relatively oil-poor county surrounded by areas with much richer deposits. It figures that 65 million years ago, even the dinosaurs didn't want to live there. Tyra apparently started feeling bad about blowing Connor off earlier, because her car pulls up and she gets out with a bag of fast-food dinner. "One Scotch, One Bourbon, One Beer" by Blind Willie Johnson is coming out of her car speakers. I hope she also feels bad about making fun of his hat, now that she knows he was blind.
Later, she's chatting up Connor next to her car and sharing more of her worldview about the locals "caught up in their tiny little lives." Of course, the shot is framed so that both figures look completely wee under the gigundous Texas sky. Tyra also shares her unsolicited opinion of oil in general, which she hates. "I know it's a widely-held belief, but any particular reason?" he asks. She blames it for her father's downfall, and that of the whole town. "It's worse than crack. The big dealers come in promising the good times will last forever, and just as fast, it's gone. And all the money's gone with it." Connor confesses that oil isn't his favorite thing either, and that he even drives a hybrid back home. Tyra asks if he likes it in Los Angeles (translation: "Take me with you!"). He says he does, and that she'd do well there (translation: "Let's start practicing for your porn film auditions!"). Tyra asks how long he's going to be in town, and he thinks another week at least. And after that gaping opening she just left him, what else can he do but ask her out to dinner tomorrow night? She gives an almost convincing show of considering it, then accepts. I hope he doesn't plan to take her to Applebee's.