Friday Night Lights
Pilot

Episode Report Card
Drunken Bee: B | 33 USERS: A
YOU GRADE IT
I'm Too Busy Crying to Come Up With A Clever Title

Crazy fisheye cam starts with a few off-kilter shots of the Panther cheerleaders and fans, giving you just enough to start feeling visually disoriented. The Panthers make some progress down the field, a tiny bit, and there's a slight boost in atmosphere. Oh no. This can only be bad. Third and five, Street has given his team a talking-to, and they're poised to take the ball somewhere. Snap, pass downfield....interception! Chaps #20 runs it back toward Street, the announcer exposits for us that Street'll be the only one back there able to stop him. Establishing shot of Street, looking slim like a quarterback, not like somebody built to tackle, tries to position himself to block, quick cuts back and forth between #20 and Street when....BAM!...Street puts his head down and blocks the kid, they both go flying in the air and Street lands on the ground with a thud. #20 fumbles and the Panthers recover it, but still. Not. Good.

Street's mother puts her hand to her mouth. Taylor sort of stalks toward the action, the announcers state the obvious, that it was a gigantic hit on Street. He's not getting up. The crowd starts going silent, slowly at first. At least one Panther player kneels as the trainer rushes out to Street. The crowd has now gone totally silent. The trainer calls for the doctor, up in the stands, as Street's parents rush to the field. The announcers rush to blather some tremendously useless blather to try to let some of the pressure out of the situation. Lyla pleads to no one in particular, "Why isn't he getting up?" On the field, the doctor quietly asks Street if he can hear him. Street, on his back, looks through his helmet and says yes. He's terrified.

Mrs. Street makes her way onto the field, takes one look at her son, and starts wailing, "Jason, get up! Please!" An ambulance siren sounds, the entire crowd of thousands looks on, hands clasped, mouths gaping, holding their arms up, index and middle finger crossed in a pagan prayer for healing. The EMTs get there, the doctor says he thinks its a spinal injury. The EMT asks Street to squeeze his hand, which he can, and wiggle his feet, which he can. They lift him onto a backboard. Taylor looks down in total despondency. As the EMTs work, yet another completely heartbreaking detail: Jason Street says, forcefully, "Thank you." Thank you for not breaking my spine any more than it already is? Thank you for putting such expectations on me so that I would risk anything to block someone from carrying a ball from one place to another? Thank you. For what? Polite to his grave.

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Friday Night Lights

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