Friday Night Lights premiered 20 years ago this week, marking the arrival of some of the most deeply emotional and intimate storytelling to ever air on broadcast television. Recently coming in at No. 14 on the New York Times list of the best shows of the 21st Century, it was a true marvel that never set the ratings world on fire. In fact, they were so dire that NBC struck an unprecedented agreement with DirecTV that let them share the cost of producing the show. And thank god, because after a semi-disastrous second season the deal allowed the show to rebuild itself into something even stronger.
Below are my top 10 episodes. And yes, you’ll notice none from the WGA strike-affected second season are present. But there was still plenty to choose from. Remember: Clear eyes. Full hearts. Can’t lose.

10. “Tomorrow Blues” (Season 3, Episode 13)
No matter what ups and downs occurred thematically over the course of a season – including subplots that vanished without resolution – Friday Night Lights knew how to pull everything together for a finale. Picking up months after a narrow defeat in the state championship, Eric (Kyle Chandler) and Tami (Connie Britton) find their kingdom in ruins. Rich asshole Joe McCoy (played to perfection by D.W. Moffett) has positioned himself as the de facto head of the Dillon Panthers, bringing in his own coach (Drew Waters) to build a system around his spoiled son J.D. (Jeremy Sumpter). Eric’s righteous refusal to be a pawn exiles him to East Dillon High School, where the lack of funding, support, and talent will be the driver of Season 4.
Oh, but we’re not done! The show also marks the joyful and tacky wedding of Billy (Derek Phillips) and Mindy (Stacey Orisonto), bringing closure for Tim (Taylor Kitsch) and Lyla (Minka Kelly). But not every couple could let go so easily.

9. “Black Eyes and Broken Hearts” (Season 1, Episode 16)
Some people in Texas love to tell you that racism isn’t a problem. Or it wasn’t until “people started focusing on it” and now “everything is about race.” But of course those people are morons with their own agendas. After Coach Mac McGill (Blue Deckert) compares Dillon’s Black players to “junkyard dogs” and refuses to apologize, star wide receiver Smash Williams (Gaius Charles) stages a walkout. It’s not only a racial struggle and a labor struggle, but also gives Smash a chance to aim his passion at an issue bigger than his playing career. That the episode gives a strong thematic resolution without giving the impression everything will be hunky dory going forward reiterates how strong the writing was.

8. “Thanksgiving” (Season 4, Episode 13)
It’s Thanksgiving in Dillon and no one is happy. Tami is still dealing with the fallout of offering ethically sound but legally questionable advice to a student. The Lions are limping toward the end of a horrendous season. Matt (Zach Gilford) is back in town, but neither Julie (Aimee Teegarden) nor Landry (Jesse Plemons) are thrilled after he’s been radio silent for months.
But while this show could be realistic and even grim sometimes, it always remained hopeful that things could turn around. And in one of the show’s most thrilling football games, it all comes down to a last-second play in the East Dillon vs. West Dillon matchup, a real hold-your-breath moment. It’s riveting stuff.

7. “I Think We Should Have Sex” (Season 1, Episode 17)
Characters losing their virginities is well-worn ground for teen soaps. But Friday Night Lights stopped for a minute and asked: What if they both decided to wait? This wasn’t prudishness. Matt and Julie eventually did have sex, broke up and got back together numerous times, and one day planned to get married. But for one night there was no heartbreak, no pressure, no disappointment. Just two kids becoming more mature. They’re much smarter than Buddy Garrity (Brad Leland) and Angela Collette (Dana Wheeler-Nicholson), whose affair is revealed in this episode, with plenty of wreckage to follow.

6. “I Can’t” (Season 4, Episode 10)
While Friday Night Lights had thrilling last-minute scores, soul-stirring reconciliation scenes, and occasionally some laugh-out-loud moments, the show was never afraid to be real. And sometimes it was depressingly so. One night, Luke (Matt Lauria) and Becky (Dora Madison Burge) have a chance encounter. What started as a moment of comfort between two characters who felt they had nowhere else to turn becomes a monumental challenge.
Becky’s pregnant, and with a selfish and mostly absent mother (Alicia Witt), she turns to Tami for advice. All Tami does is listen to a scared kid and tell her all her options. But this being Texas, even saying that abortion is an option threatens her safety and her job. This episode serves as a reminder that Texas can be both the best place and the worst.

5. “Mud Bowl” (Season 1, Episode 20)
One of the underrated aspects of Friday Night Lights was its attention to detail in the football scenes. The excellent editing and pacing of the sports action added another layer of authenticity. It’s easy to overlook because they always did it well, but if they hadn’t it would have stuck out noticeably. Though the show took Taylor-coached teams to the state championship three times, this might have been the most intense, high-stakes game it ever staged. After a chemical spill closes Dillon High School for a week, Eric has to find a space that not only meets UIL regulations, but also doesn’t let him cede his home-field advantage. His creative solution? Build one. Bad weather makes for horrendous playing conditions, throwing both teams off their game. It was probably hell to shoot, but it made for some of the most compelling fictional sports ever put on TV.

4. “Always” (Season 5, Episode 13)
The show’s only Emmys came for this extraordinary series finale. Chandler won for his stubborn but perceptive turn as Coach Taylor, and showrunner Jason Katims won for his script, which gave nearly every character a proper sendoff. But even for an episode with big moments – engagements, departures, a last minute Hail Mary – “Always” belongs in the pantheon of great finales because of its focus on the smaller ones. Jess (Jurnee Smollett) on the sidelines not just as an athletic trainer, but a coach in the making. Eric and Ornette (Chris Williams) having a man-to-man, parent-to-parent conversation. Tim and Tyra (Adrianne Palicki) finally having an emotionally honest moment together. That’s why we still say “Texas Forever.”

3. Pilot episode (Season 1, Episode 1)
Nowadays, it seems like many shows have attention-grabbing pilots. But they quickly run out of steam long before their short seasons end. At the time, it was much more common for a pilot to be familiar yet distinct, but rarely astonishing. Friday Night Lights‘ first episode belongs in that tier with Lost‘s premiere: truly special hours of television that immediately hooked you, disoriented you, and made you want to tune in next week. And like Lost, there’s all the basics of what made the show great here, even as it went in fascinating, unexpected directions throughout its run.

2. “Underdogs” (Season 3, Episode 12)
A jam-packed episode with serious emotional stakes, it would be probably be any other series’ No. 1. As the Panthers head to state, J.D. is distraught after being assaulted by his dad and questioned by CPS. He’s not the only character in turmoil: Tyra has to nail her college admissions essay to make up for years of slacking. Matt longs to pursue his artistic dreams, but like so many folks is held back by poverty. And then there’s Tim, whose quiet final moments here reveal more than any monologue ever could.

1. “The Son” (Season 4, Episode 5)
I watched this episode the night it aired in the summer of 2010 and I knew I was witnessing greatness. After Matt’s father (Brent Smiga) is KIA in Iraq, Matt has to navigate the complex grief of mourning a man he barely knew, a man who used service to his country as a way to neglect his duties as a parent. Zach Gilford had been a reliable actor throughout the first three seasons of the show. But he rose to the challenge with this Emmy-nominated script, delivering a devastating performance for the ages.