On Friday Night Lights
Why We Love . . . Buddy Garrity
By Jen Chaney
Buddy Garrity is a simple Texas man. He loves his red meat. He loves his three kids, even when two of them clearly appeared to be turning into hippies after moving to California with their mother. And he loves, looo-oooves his football. (That’s foot-bawl, by the way. It’s impossible to speak of Buddy without sliding some twang into one’s speech.)
Admittedly, Buddy is not the easiest guy to like. He’s loud. He’s a heavy breather. He’s very pushy, especially when it comes to providing recruiting assistance to Coach Eric Taylor, or demanding the installation of Jumbotrons, or insisting on bringing a deep-fried turkey to the Taylors’ Thanksgiving dinner. In his own words, he’s a sinner–the kind of guy who cheats on his wife, occasionally falls in the mud after drinking too much, and installs a mailbox where it really, really doesn’t belong.
Despite all of this, we love Buddy Garrity, because at his big ol’ buttinsky core, he’s got a heart made out of gold–the same gold, presumably, one would find on his Dillon Panther championship ring. Sure, Buddy throws around his cash to get what he wants and inappropriately exerts his influence, not unlike a certain smug a-hole by the name of Joe McCoy. But unlike McCoy, Buddy is capable of compassion and decency. He’s a teddy bear . . . granted, a teddy bear who gets into fights at strip clubs and winds up getting arrested for drunken disorderliness. But still, a teddy bear all the same.
Buddy Garrity’s eyes weren’t …