An Ode to Those Friday Night Lights

Every Friday in high school was the same. Drive home from school, excited for the weekend’s freedom. Kill a few hours fueling up and preparing for the predetermined student section theme. Head over to a friend’s house to chill before carpooling back to the school campus. Lose my voice cheering on our team in the game. Regardless of the season—football, basketball, or soccer—it was always the same ol’ routine.

At my all-boys school in Memphis, Tennessee, no one ever asked, “What are your Friday plans?” It was not necessary. It did not matter who your friends were or if you even enjoyed the sport; you were in the bleachers screaming at refs or celebrating touchdowns. Like any other routine, there was comfort in not having to find a creative way to spend a Friday night. No need to reach out to plan an impromptu hangout or figure out who is hosting: everyone is going to the game.

Sure, not everyone really cares about the events of the game. As long as we score more than the opponents, we can celebrate. But people largely ignore the individual plays and passes. Instead, most people faced their neighbors, catching up on the past week or making inside jokes that aren’t even funny if you don’t know the context. While it is a shame for the individual players, whose efforts might have gone unnoticed, the conversations interrupted by periodic screaming were my favorite memories from high school.

When I arrived on Harvard’s campus, I knew that it would be different. Obviously, my classes would be harder, my classmates more diverse, and there would actually be snow in winter. What I was most nervous about, however, was Friday nights. No longer was there the safety net of “the game,” where I knew I would see all my classmates and friends.

More than halfway into my college career, Friday nights are less daunting. They have certainly lost the luster of the monumental experiences they once were, filled with blackouts and mistakes that will haunt me for years to come. A night in has actually become a favorite pastime to recover from a long week. But I always find myself looking back at those high school Friday nights, missing the community that represented our school.

My high school experiences are not the first example of sporting events drawing people together: they have been a large part of society throughout history. Whether you look at today’s myriad professional contests or the more elaborate sporting traditions of centuries ago, sports have played an integral role in bringing communities together. Gladiators in ancient Rome killed boredom in an age without the luxuries of TikTok, but the sport also encouraged camaraderie among Romans. Similarly, the Mesoamerican ballgame played across Mayan and Aztec civilizations bound cities together. Even the Olympics, in their earliest form, required a truce between competing societies.

Whether you’re a superfan, a casual enjoyer, or someone who could not care less about sports, going to a sporting event or watching on TV gives spectators a chance to relax with friends and escape life’s stresses. Baseball, for instance, is considered boring by many—with long periods of inactivity in any game—yet it offers a fantastic opportunity to decompress with friends without staying consistently engaged with what is happening on the field. As such, almost every game draws hundreds of viewers. While movies or shows require constant attention to truly appreciate the media, part of enjoying sports is also enjoying the company of those around you.

Perhaps the respite from the expectation to be focused is why sporting outings became so popular for students. No one judges if your back is to the field. No one judges if you ask for a recap of the previous play. No one judges if you have to step away. During a period of life often filled with peer pressure, those Friday nights had none.

While there is definitely a strong community here at Harvard, it is much more splintered. There is no single place where you can be sure to see most of your peers; instead, Friday nights are split among small hangouts, restful evenings, or outings to bars. There is no single answer for what people do after each week of school. Maybe it is just growing up, and people choose to spend their time in more varied ways. Maybe it is a testament to the diversity on campus that everyone has different hobbies and values.

Still, I miss those Friday nights.

Tyler Dang ’28 (tylerdang@college.harvard.edu) only ever saw the “Friday Night Lights” movie, not the show.