This isn't Studio 60, so why am I writing about Krazy Khristians?

For the last few weeks, I’ve been bothered by Christopher Kelly’s Texas Monthly review of Friday Night Lights. In it, he contends that the show is critically overrated, specifically by East and West Coasters who watch without upsetting their preconceived notions about the Lone Star State. As a Texas transplant to California and someone who grew up in a small town in Oklahoma, I dismissed Kelly’s argument as that of a self-hating liberal Texan who doesn’t like the show’s accurate reflection of his football-loving and God-fearing neighbors. And then during last night’s episode, I ate a few of my words.

Don’t get me wrong: I still believe that Friday Night Lights is one of the best shows on television. The set design shows small town life as I remember it rather than as a Pottery Barn commercial, the dialogue is wonderfully layered and realistic and it’s crazy compelling. The Chef, a Texas native, hates it when stupid characters have bad Texas accents. Luckily for Friday Night Lights, even if we’re subjected to Canadian Taylor Kitsch’s hit or miss accent while Riggins inexplicably tries to woo Tyra back, we’re also treated to a lot of intelligent banter by the twangy (but sharp) Taylor clan.

I have a similar pet peeve about religion. Faith does not make a person a zealot, a moron or even a social conservative. In his review, Kelly said the show was mocking in its portrayal of Lyla’s belief in the power of prayer. I disagreed. Perky belief that God would make Street walk again was her coping mechanism. When it faltered, she found another way to cope: Riggins. But last night, even as I laughed at Buddy Garrity’s pompous singing, I felt the immediate sting of his unabashedly stupid prayer. I’m sure people pray for football, but come on, Friday Nights Lights. The scene could have worked in Heathers or Election, but it didn’t fit on an earnest show that generally respects the people it portrays.