Coach Taylor walks into the locker room in his man shorts and socks. The place is wrecked, and Kyle Chandler's hair feels this deeply. Coach Taylor looks around, with Mac at his side, and mutters, "Rivalry. Tradition." He could possibly have added "Lack of education" to his list of things that quickly turn bad when applied to directionless teens.
At the Perfectly Art-Directed House of Saracen, Grandma sits eating her cereal and fully watching Sit and Be Fit. I see that probably this is the more accurate choice than Wai Lana, but I personally prefer the latter. Matt tells his grandmother that he's heading to school "to talk to Dad." Grandma asks if he's coming home for dinner that night. Matt pauses, realizing that she's slipping into a "bad spell" but then she adds, "Make sure he's taking his vitamins" like she's suddenly clear again, remembering that her son is in Iraq. God, this show. Two of my biggest fears: being paralyzed and being just this side of dementia, having moments when you slip in and out of knowing what's going on around you. Brutal.
At school, Matt talks to his father on a shiny new Apple computer. Probably product placement, so I can't complain too much, and they did make sure to make all the computers around the brand new one look like junkers, which is what you'd expect in a town like this one. His father asks about football, praises his son for starting, and then asks about his starting in the coming week. Matt goes from being cautiously proud of himself to being hesitant and doubtful -- but never once breaks from his mouth-breathing delivery. C'mon Zach Gilford, let's expand your range for "put upon."
Back in the Far Too Realistically Depressing Rehab Facility, Bill urges Jason to eat the nasty eggs on his plate. Jason -- who truly looks pasty and sweaty like you tend to do in the hospital -- says he isn't hungry, and when Bill says he just wants him to try to use his hand, Jason frowns, "Well, I can't." Bill tries motivating Jason, telling him to stop being such a crybaby since the place is full of folks who are a lot worse off than him. In my experience (and maybe one day I'll tell you about the time my orthodontist -- which I had when I was SIX thanks to a truly effed up mouthful of teeth -- got tired of my hysterical sobbing getting in the way of them taking a cast of my mouth, and so brought me into another room in the office where a teenaged girl with cerebral palsy sat getting her teeth worked on, which now, from a distance, I truly CANNOT COMPREHEND happened because, frankly, I think the problem was that I was SIX, not that I needed to sack up and be good like the girl with cerebral palsy, and anyway that orthodontist just got thrown in jail this year because he was involved in some state government kick-back scandal...where was I? Oh, right.) I don't think pointing fingers at how bad other people have it usually helps anyone out in the end.