Friday Nights Lite

Just finished watching the season finale of "Friday Night Lights," the NBC television series based on the book and movie of the same name, which casts a critical eye on the "Schoolboy Football" culture of West Texas. The book was written by Pulitzer Prize winning journalist H.G Bissinger, and published in 1990. It chronicles the 1988 season of the Odessa Permian Panthers, and tells a chilling tale of racisim, anti-intellectualism, career-ending injuries, and a community where 17-year-old athletes are treated as Gods, and then abandoned as garbage or left to ponder the ironic reality that nothing in their life will ever equal that experience again.

The movie, directed by Bissinger's cousin Peter Berg (who also produced the television series) maintains much of this critical attitude, although obviously it sacrifies some subtlety and nuance in exchange for the vividness of film, and tends to play up more of the comaradarie of sport alongside the darker aspects of the religion of winner-take-all competition. And as much as I have enjoyed the TV show, it seems like on the small screen the dark side of football is missing almost entirely. The allusions are there: the season begins with a career-ending spinal injury to the star "golden boy" Quarterback Jason Street; but by the end of the season (just in time for the State Championship game) he is back on the sidelines in his wheelchair, his physical rehabilitation apparently complete, and gainfully employed coaching his sophmore back-up Matt Saracen to the title (a significant variation in itself from both book and film, where the Panther's ended up on the short end of the scoreboard. Of course, those were both based on a real team and a real season). So I guess what I'm trying to say is that the themes remain, but in a "family hour" version that is just a little too sweet to be truly substantial...not withstanting all the shouting, the cheers and the tears, the betrayals and disappointments, the hard hits and last-second heroics which lead to ultimate victory. It's sentimental and nostaligic, rather than honest and true. And thus ultimately, it is more a disappointment than a victory itself.

And I realize that maybe I'm being a little too hard on this silly little show which probably won't even get picked up for a second season. And I did have to watch it on a VERY small screen -- the screen of this iBook, actually, since I spent my own Wednesday night playing in my regular pick-up game. Got there a little late, because I also wanted to see Ichiro's first at bat against Dice-K, and I didn't make a basket the entire evening...but it didn't matter, because I was seeing the floor SO well and passing the ball right on the dime, as well as playing very satisfying defense and getting my hands in the passing lanes and getting to the loose balls. And my teammates were TRYING to get me shots -- had a little running right-handed hook to start the night out that really should have gone in, as well as a little left-handed lay-up attempt from behind the backboard on the right baseline that I just shot a little too hard to get the roll. And several good looks at threes in rhythm that just didn't go down for me. But it didn't matter. I was with a group of guys who spread the floor and shared the ball, hustled to help out on "D" and generally just played well together. I don't think we lost a single game. Not that that mattered either. Good times! Can't wait to get back....