A couple weeks ago I finally caught the series finale of Friday Night Lights. I've been meaning to write something about it, but every time I try to formulate my thoughts, I can't quite seem to grasp what I want to say. The book (and movie to some extent) is a searing commentary on the state of small town America, with an in-depth look at how values are misplaced for the sake of football glory. It seems somewhat topical to be recalling it now, given the scandal that has recently rocked Penn State. But the TV show is a bit different. I've actually only seen the last three seasons (out of five), but it's not quite as bleak as the book. Despite the hardship and difficulties people like Matt, Tim, and Coach face, there's a sense of hope in the show. Maybe it's faint, but it's there. And I think that's why I've been struggling to figure out what I want to say about the show, because maybe the show is how I want life to be, but the book is how life really is.
I asked ls, an avid fan of Friday Night Lights, what he thinks the main theme of the show is. He said community and family. And to some extent this is the recurring undertone. The show centers around Coach and his family, and how they navigate the world of high school football in a small Texas town. It shows the resiliency of a town that bonds together over a common cause, of the happiness and joy that is achievable, of the boundaries that can be broken by having a dream. But it also shows the consequences of not always believing and abiding by this dream, of being a misfit in this closed community. It shows that while community and family may lift some of us up, it may also suffocate and bring some of us down. Maybe this dichotomy is what Friday Night Lights is about.
I think two scenes capture this concept in an understated way. The first, from season 4, is when Julie goes for her college interview. She tells the interviewer that all her life she wanted to get out of Dillon. That each book, each accomplishment was a step toward that direction. But upon leaving, she's realizing that she has been shaped by her town, and that her viewpoint is different from every other person. This is the strength that community can give us: identity. But only if we are aware enough that our views and opinions are based in that identity.
Growing up in California, it's always easy to read articles about the Midwest or South and wonder what is going on in that part of the country. How can people care so much more about football than education? How can people be so closed-minded about things? Maybe that's the question Friday Night Lights the book was asking. But in moving to Singapore, I've begun to understand what diversity actually means. And what it means to really understand another person's viewpoint. We're all a bit like Julie. While some of us think that California may be the best place ever (rather than wanting to leave), our viewpoints have been shaped by our community. Most of us surround ourselves with people who have similar thought processes. For me, it's an open-minded, highly educated, free spirited thought process. Growing up in affluent, conservative San Diego and then going to hippie, liberal Berkeley didn't really change that fact. There may be different opinions, but I'm used to people thinking in rational, logical steps. Even for people who travel a lot, and even for expats in foreign countries, they still don't quite grasp this concept. Most travelers don't have to deal with the day in/day out of the country they're visiting. They enjoy some local culture and talk to some locals, but it's difficult to understand the true pulse of a place without putting down roots. Similarly, even for expats, they tend to gravitate towards people with similar backgrounds, because it's often difficult to relate to the local culture. This has been mostly true for me in Singapore as well. But I've also had the opportunity to work in a local company, where I deal with Singaporeans, Indians, Japanese, and Chinese, and there are distinctly different ways they approach problems and make decisions. And it's easy enough to say that they don't get it, that they don't understand how things work, but in reality, my version of how things work is based on the community that I'm from. And maybe that's why I can't understand a community that places football above education, but it also prevents me from trying to understand. Unless I embrace the limitations of my identity. And that's the second scene.
At the end of season 5, in the midst of playing for a state championship, Luke is debating whether he should keep playing football at a Division III school or join the army. He asks Tim and Tim tells him to enjoy state, to embrace it, and then to let it go. This is especially poignant coming from Tim, who tried to keep playing football at college, then ended up back in Dillon and is at a stage of his life where he's a bit bitter about how everything has turned out. Football was Tim's identity. It is Luke's identity. But if they keep holding on to that limited view of themselves, they'll never move forward in life. It's easy to get caught up in what we've established. A steady job. A comfortable home. A group of friends. An idea of how we should live life, how we should spend our money, how we should start a family. And we tend to try to hold on to all this. But if we keep holding on, we'll never move past that limited scope with which we see the world. Maybe we have to be able to let go in order to avoid letting our identity trap us.
The iconic phrase from Friday Night Lights is "clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose." We always say people are more alike than they know, but we don't really understand what that means. Sure we may have similar problems, similar wants and desires, but that's not how we approach our interactions with each other. We frame our opinions and views through the lens of our own community. Our eyes are blurred by our homogeneity, no matter how diverse we may think we are. Our hearts only carry our own identity. But there's that glimmer of hope, that we can let go and have clear eyes and full hearts. And that's when the world becomes beautiful, and no one can lose.
I asked ls, an avid fan of Friday Night Lights, what he thinks the main theme of the show is. He said community and family. And to some extent this is the recurring undertone. The show centers around Coach and his family, and how they navigate the world of high school football in a small Texas town. It shows the resiliency of a town that bonds together over a common cause, of the happiness and joy that is achievable, of the boundaries that can be broken by having a dream. But it also shows the consequences of not always believing and abiding by this dream, of being a misfit in this closed community. It shows that while community and family may lift some of us up, it may also suffocate and bring some of us down. Maybe this dichotomy is what Friday Night Lights is about.
I think two scenes capture this concept in an understated way. The first, from season 4, is when Julie goes for her college interview. She tells the interviewer that all her life she wanted to get out of Dillon. That each book, each accomplishment was a step toward that direction. But upon leaving, she's realizing that she has been shaped by her town, and that her viewpoint is different from every other person. This is the strength that community can give us: identity. But only if we are aware enough that our views and opinions are based in that identity.
Growing up in California, it's always easy to read articles about the Midwest or South and wonder what is going on in that part of the country. How can people care so much more about football than education? How can people be so closed-minded about things? Maybe that's the question Friday Night Lights the book was asking. But in moving to Singapore, I've begun to understand what diversity actually means. And what it means to really understand another person's viewpoint. We're all a bit like Julie. While some of us think that California may be the best place ever (rather than wanting to leave), our viewpoints have been shaped by our community. Most of us surround ourselves with people who have similar thought processes. For me, it's an open-minded, highly educated, free spirited thought process. Growing up in affluent, conservative San Diego and then going to hippie, liberal Berkeley didn't really change that fact. There may be different opinions, but I'm used to people thinking in rational, logical steps. Even for people who travel a lot, and even for expats in foreign countries, they still don't quite grasp this concept. Most travelers don't have to deal with the day in/day out of the country they're visiting. They enjoy some local culture and talk to some locals, but it's difficult to understand the true pulse of a place without putting down roots. Similarly, even for expats, they tend to gravitate towards people with similar backgrounds, because it's often difficult to relate to the local culture. This has been mostly true for me in Singapore as well. But I've also had the opportunity to work in a local company, where I deal with Singaporeans, Indians, Japanese, and Chinese, and there are distinctly different ways they approach problems and make decisions. And it's easy enough to say that they don't get it, that they don't understand how things work, but in reality, my version of how things work is based on the community that I'm from. And maybe that's why I can't understand a community that places football above education, but it also prevents me from trying to understand. Unless I embrace the limitations of my identity. And that's the second scene.
At the end of season 5, in the midst of playing for a state championship, Luke is debating whether he should keep playing football at a Division III school or join the army. He asks Tim and Tim tells him to enjoy state, to embrace it, and then to let it go. This is especially poignant coming from Tim, who tried to keep playing football at college, then ended up back in Dillon and is at a stage of his life where he's a bit bitter about how everything has turned out. Football was Tim's identity. It is Luke's identity. But if they keep holding on to that limited view of themselves, they'll never move forward in life. It's easy to get caught up in what we've established. A steady job. A comfortable home. A group of friends. An idea of how we should live life, how we should spend our money, how we should start a family. And we tend to try to hold on to all this. But if we keep holding on, we'll never move past that limited scope with which we see the world. Maybe we have to be able to let go in order to avoid letting our identity trap us.
The iconic phrase from Friday Night Lights is "clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose." We always say people are more alike than they know, but we don't really understand what that means. Sure we may have similar problems, similar wants and desires, but that's not how we approach our interactions with each other. We frame our opinions and views through the lens of our own community. Our eyes are blurred by our homogeneity, no matter how diverse we may think we are. Our hearts only carry our own identity. But there's that glimmer of hope, that we can let go and have clear eyes and full hearts. And that's when the world becomes beautiful, and no one can lose.
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