Last week’s episode of Friday Night Lights was perhaps the series’ best at examining a common theme since its inception: the gravitational pull of a small town. Anyone who has ever grown up in one knows that there are lifers — those who will be born in and die in the same four block radius. There are itchers — those who can’t wait to leave the indemnity of NoWheresVille, U.S.A. and make a name for themselves someplace else. And there are the Tug and Pulls — those who recognize the sad truth of the small town situation: things are easy in a small town, sameness makes one content. But contentedness is not happiness. It’s not the same as sadness either, which is a plus, but it’s certainly not enough for most people. So SomePlaceElse, U.S.A. seems appealing because it offers happiness and sadness and frustration and excitement — anything but the gray in-between on contentedness. But it also offers dangers that may be so large that they prevent anyone from venturing out into the big, bad world. And that’s the beauty of a small town. That the natural inclinations of individuals can be seen as clearly as the unclouded stars in the sky. That a Tim Riggins will always be happy in Dillion, no matter how much you push him to leave the nest. That a Tyra will fight and push her way out of the same dish at any and all costs because staying would mean suffocation. And that there are so many others whose destination could go either way, depending upon circumstance. Depending upon timing. Depending upon the lives and decisions of every other bug scuttling around in the Dillon petrie dish.
In “Stay”, a coaxing, soft lull compared to last week’s emotional tour de force by Zach Gilford, we see the impact of the decisions of Dillioners in all three categories. After exchanging a knowing glance last week at Matt’s father’s funeral, Lyla and Riggins find themselves once again drawn to one another. It’s a realistic portrayal of what happens is places big and small all over the country. Lyla is on midterm break from college and has come back to visit her daddy. She’s also come back with a mouth full of rage for Tim Riggins. Because he dropped out college so quickly, the college she worked so hard to get him into. Because he stopped calling or picking up her calls, even after all that they had been through. But mostly because Tim Riggins is a lifer, and no matter how many personal saviors come into his life (and Lyla Garrity really did give it a good shot), he’s never going to be anything different. So, the two do what any couple full on love but short on practicality would do: they use their three days together being together. They forget about the future and the obstacles. They say goodbye in a sweet, drawn-out lullaby kind of way. Tim half-heartedly pitches Lyla coming back from college to manage a booming Riggins Rigs, but both of them know that it could never work and in the end Tim watches as Lyla rides away from Dillon for the (metaphorical) last time. Kudos to Minka Kelly for delivering the subtle speech to (assumedly) fellow-itcher Becky about how leaving home doesn’t automatically fill in the holes you might have in your heart. Just because you don't need Dillon, doesn't mean Dillon doesn't need you. And that's a hard hurt to handle.
Elsewhere in Dillon people are playing football! Sometimes I seriously forget that this is what the show is about. East Dillon has to play a team who hasn’t allowed a touchdown is something like 11,000 games and on top of everything, the game is going to be televised! Vince continues to be chided by his asshole, thieving friend and his crackhead mother wants to come to the game. There’s a sweetly sad moment where she promises that she’ll clean up her appearance if she comes and I tear up at the thought of this kid having to juggle the gateway life that Coach is presenting him, and the shitty one he's been dealt. In order to get Vince, Luke and the other East Dillon boys ready for the game (of which that dopey assistant coach has guaranteed a win) Coach brings in the big defensive guns: the Riggins boys.
It’s fun to see Tim and Billy beat the piss out of these kids and it even results in Vince and Luke finally finding a way to working together — on and off the field. When the big game comes, the pairing (and Vince especially, now the official East Dillon QB are connecting), bring the opposing team’s zero-touchdown record to its knees. East Dillon doesn’t win — thank god — but they do go out against a formidable opponent with honor.
After losing his father in last week’s episode (and delivering a performance that had better damn well get him an Emmy nomination, if not win) we see Matt attempting to go back to normal. He tries to throw a football around with Landry but there’s an emotional gulf between the two old friends. He goes to a music festival with Julie — one that she was expressly forbidden to go to by her parents — but the gravity of the situation, and its presence as a game-changer is growing ever more apparent for the couple who we’ve rooted for from the beginning. After Matt finds out that Julie has run away without the Taylors’ permission, he explodes on Julie, eliciting the real reason why this trip was so important to the impish blonde. She wants Matt to feel like he’s gotten to leave Dillon, even if for a short while. Since his mother is now caring for his grandmother and the Army’s “death gratuity” effectually has the Saracens set for life, there’s nothing holding Matt to Dillon — except for Julie. It’s one of those moments when the truth becomes real when it’s vocalized, and now that neither can hide behind the veil of pretending it’s the beginning of the end for the star-crossed couple. The goodnight in the Taylors’ driveway, so similar to so many others, is in fact a goodbye — and both parties know it. I believe that Matt and Julie belong together, that perhaps in ten years after college and long-term loves and growing apart that they’ll find each other once again and become Eric and Tami 2.0. But for now, as in every episode of Friday Night Lights, the scene plays as it would in real life and Saracen pulls out of the driveway, past his Grandmother’s house and down a long stretch of Texas highway toward something so much more. Gilford, in one of his last scenes this season (and probably on the show) delivers his performance with the quiet stoicism that has come to mark his character, and when a smile creeps across his face you can’t help but be happy for him.
And that’s impressive, because when Julie walks back into the Taylor home — with a ferociously wound-up Tami Taylor waiting to pounce on her disobedient child — she melts into a pool of all-too-adult desperation. It’s the best acting that I’ve ever seen Aimee Teegarden do, and it rips to the core the heart of anyone who’s ever experienced this particular kind of loss. When you break up with someone because they cheat on you or because they’re just a dick, or even when it’s just too much that they like Slayer and you’re into Sia, it hurts but there’s a finality that comes with doing the right thing because it’s needs to happen. When a break-up happens because of circumstance, when you know that given a different time or place or set of people surrounding you that it would have worked, there’s nothing and no one to blame and all of that pain and anger scuttling around in a heart with no place to go is the worst kind of anguish. Tami does what Tami does best and stands by with someone who she loves when they need her most, even when that means letting her daughter make the rough transition into becoming an adult.
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