Sushi and Kyle Chandler's Hair

In a desperate bid to keep myself awake until 9, I ordered sushi and sat down with reruns of "Friday Night Lights." I would not normally watch a show like this. There is football. There is praying. There are characters who think this is how life is. (Actual exchange between characters: "Do you think God likes football?" "I think everybody likes football.")

I'm not big on the football. I'm not big on many sports, but of all of them, football is the one that earns my ire the most. Why? Universities all over this great nation spend more on athletics than on education. Education? You know, the MISSION of the university? Yeah. Apparently the mission of the university is to have a football team, and the classes are an unsightly byproduct. And don't even get me started on the salaries we pay to coaches (or the fact that we sometimes pay them obscene figures to go away because they don't win football games--God, do I want a job where I get paid millions of dollars for fucking it up).

Then there's the praying. I left the Catholic church a long time ago, but by the time I left I had pretty much done my time with the praying. Organized religion is...well, it's not my cup of tea. And kids praying spontaneously? I want to get them into a deprogramming lab as soon as possible.

But I love this show. I love almost all the characters (except for one cheerleader, who could yet redeem herself if she'd just grow up a little). I love the coach's marriage, which is one of mutual respect, sexual attraction and a credible handful of that insane frustration that only a spouse can produce. I love the sharply observed detail in every scene. I love the fact that the phrase "identity politics" finally means something fresh and entertaining and, for the most part, roundly portrayed. I love the humor, which is way smarter than a show whose premise is football (the giant bake sale that actually siphons money AWAY from education) deserves.

It has its faults. The paralyzed quarterback can see the football field from his hospital bed (come ON!). Lyla is that cheerleader we all avoided in high school, and honestly, why would we want to spend time with her now? The show falls prey to some of the cliches endemic to its genre (the big game, the athletes running in the rain, the inspirational pep talk that comes not a moment too soon). And, as critics have pointed out, the show "tackles" racism (I couldn't resist), but the Texas town is a little black and white--chicano culture is suspiciously absent. But it's a quibble, really. It's the kind of quibble you come up with when a show is daring you not to love it.

And, quite unexpectedly, I love Kyle Chandler's hair. I had never really noticed it, but when Drunken Bee started recapping Friday Night Lights on Television Without Pity, she started ascribing motives and feelings and misgivings to Kyle Chandler's hair, and I have to say, it's improved my experience of the show immensely.

I swear, in every scene, his hair is emoting, vying for an Emmy. When he's frustrated with the A/C, his hair is all, "I could NOT care less, man," when he's at the car dealership opening, his hair is all "Ciao!!"

It becomes quite the narrative flourish. Kyle Chandler's hair offers folks hamburgers. Kyle Chandler's hair protests that it forgot its daughter's dance recital because it's undercaffeinated. I find myself reading the recaps with quite the crush on Kyle Chandler's hair. It's so dreamy. What will it say or do next?