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There are three things Tim Riggins knows - beer, women, and football. He learned them all at his daddy's knee and then Billy's, from Dillon itself and from the great state of Texas. Football's in his blood and has been since the day he was born - Superbowl Sunday and the game was piped through the delivery room from a transistor radio and he came out the exact moment the winning touchdown was scored. He was born for football in the grand tradition of Texas boys. Jason Street, on the other hand, is football. Tim can play, and play well, but Jason knows the game without even thinking, plays the game without even trying. It's like Jason breathes football, like it beats through his heart and lives inside him. That's going to save Jason, get his ass out of Dillon and into the big leagues, the NFL. Tim knows that better than anyone, because he's been there every step of the way. He's practiced late hours and weekends; he's caught more balls that Street has sent sailing down the field than anyone, including Smash. That's the other thing that Riggins knows. Jason Street is going to be a star, and no matter how many late night bonfires they share, no matter how many memories they have between them, no matter how much Street says that he wouldn't be where he is without Riggins in the downfield, Jason Street is getting out of Dillon. And Tim Riggins isn't going anywhere.
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