Taylor house. Tami flops on the bed, grinning and pleased that she didn't have to host the party. She talks about how big the house was and how great the chocolate fountain was. Ergh. Chocolate fountains. There's nothing grosser, in my opinion. Just think about what that looks like. And then you dip strawberries into it? What? Coach grumbles that he just spent the whole night getting chewed out; Tami says she's sorry he didn't have a good time. Coach looks at her and takes a deep breath. "You know who I miss? I miss the coach's wife." Tami looks tired, and takes her own sigh. "You know who I can't wait to meet? The principal's husband." Coach says "Touche" and we leave these two for a bit to their growing pains.
Friday night. Game night. Gorgeous flaming Texas sky. Slammin' Sammy Mead gets us psyched up, talking about heart and commitment, as the camera ranges around outside among the excited fans and then inside the locker room among the riled up boys, and in the background, Fucked Up's "Son the Father" starts, and I just generally get all ramped up in a weird, angsty, hardcore way. On the field, Matt calls the play, and just as he takes the snap the song's wailing vocals start and I'm having a hard time sitting still. The first play -- Matt completes the throw, but takes a hard hit. And it just keeps on keeping on, Matty playing like a madman, taking huge hit after huge hit after huge hit. Timmy Riggins runs it into the endzone, but then the Panthers and Arnet Mead go point for point. Every time Matt throws into the endzone, taking a huge hit, Arnet Mead answers with a touchdown of their own. On the sideline, Matt's getting a bloody cut on his eyebrow tended to. Coach comes over, leans down and shouts over the crowd and cacophony, "We're gonna get the ball back, you got one more in you?" And Matt looks at him -- his face bloody -- and growls, "I always got one more." And ladies and gentleman, we have a new sexpot in town. Move over Tim Riggins. Seriously, Matt has had "adorable" nailed down for quite some time, but he just made me feel a little tingly just then. J.D.'s standing around behind them, wearing his helmet, apparently hoping he might get a chance to get in. (Which is ridiculous; putting an untested freshman in on the most important point of the night?)
The clock is winding down, Saracen takes the snap, and we go into slow motion. Saracen rears back, and then runs with the ball. The crowd noise has faded out and all we hear is Saracen's heavy breathing as he makes his way to the endzone. He's almost there, there's one defender coming at him from the left, he dives for it, and gets into the endzone. The announcer crows "Touchdown!" and Coach leaps up ready to celebrate, but then "Oh, no! No! Fumble!" Arnet Mead recovers and the Panthers lose. Matt sits on his knees in the endzone, slumped and crushed, looking back at his disappointed team. Coach's eyes are wide and staring, trying to process it all.