Those don’t look like our ‘Friday Night Lights’

When I was about 10 or 11 years old, my parents went out one night to see the movie “The Bible.”

When they came home I remember asking my dad what he thought. His answer: “I liked the book better.”

Not only does that illustrate the origins of my warped sense of humor, it also answers the question of what I thought of “Friday Night Lights,” the newest movie attempting to capture a true sports story on the big screen.

I’m not a film reviewer – we have one of those and he’s good at it – but I am a high school sports fan and the father of a high school football player.

That’s who I took to see “Lights” on Sunday, hoping to get his feel of the action, the story, the plot, the subtext – all that stuff I learned in my college criticism classes.

Jack’s only comment came near the end of the film. The Permian boys were driving down the field in the supposed state championship game against Dallas’ Carter High and a part of a play was shown. It featured a block. My son leaned over and whispered, “That’s only the second time in the whole movie they’ve shown an offensive lineman.”

Everyone’s a critic, especially a 16-year-old center.

But his observation gets to the heart of the matter of Hollywood and high school sports.

It’s a rare event when the film industry really catches the emotions and thoughts of high school kids and the sports they play.

You might be able to think of more, but only “Hoosiers” comes to my mind. I would say “Vision Quest,” because of its interesting portrayal of a high school wrestler, but the whole older woman subplot gets in the way.

Otherwise, most films about high school sports are like “All the Right Moves,” that Tom Cruise football movie featuring Craig T. Nelson as the stereotypical wacked high school coach.

“Lights” does better, but at its core it’s a movie about football that only scratches the surface of elements the book drilled into deeply.

Of course, Hollywood is going to combine characters to make the story flow. Of course, it wants a “Hollywood” ending in the state title game (the season actually ended in the semis). Of course, it can’t examine issues of racism, oil, poverty, grades and depression, all of which the book explores at length.

And, of course, it can’t explain a high school football culture that has a much in common with the football culture in Spokane as an Afghanistan election has with our presidential race.

We don’t understand the Texas prep football culture and we probably never will.

The movie tries to illustrate it. There’s the scene with the For Sale signs on the coach’s lawn. The scene at the first day of practice with more media than at many Pac-10 games. The scene with Boobie, his uncle and Coach Gaines talking about Boobie’s knee.

But what the book does – and a movie can never do – is walk you into the kids’ heads.

The book opens a door into what a culture like “Lights’” can do to 15-, 16-, 17- and 18-year-old boys, and it isn’t pretty.

The pressure. The skewed priorities. The privilege. All parts of culture aimed not at supplying kids the tools to deal with their future, but aimed at making the senior year of their life – the fall of that year in fact – all that matters.

We’re lucky here. A great majority of our high school coaches get it. They understand where sports rank in the true scheme of things. They understand that when those Friday night lights go out, it is the beginning, not the end.

That’s what a 16-year-old needs to learn.

The movie is flashy, it’s quick, it’s visceral. It’s a lot like a great running back. The book? It’s solid, it’s deep, it’s important.

A lot like an O-lineman.