Aaron Hernandez Episode 5 Recap

Photo: Michael Parmelee/FX

“Be yourself.” It's the common advice every child hears growing up, a general aphorism that applies to almost anything. But do you know where it doesn't apply? Professional football. Even before the new players have started training, the NFL wants to hammer this into their heads. In theory, these young men represent a nearly century-long history of integrity and excellence, and it is their duty to “protect the shield,” as Commissioner Roger Goodell famously said. This is easier for some players than others.

Aaron's early days with the Patriots are relatively peaceful, although it takes Bill Belichick a while to figure out what to do with him. He's not impressed by Aaron's flashy gag of collecting naked pads from the practice field, and he understandably dismisses the need for Urban Meyer's babysitting advice. “This is a men’s team,” he tells Aaron. “Be a man.” Masculinity and the question of exactly how to define it has been a central theme of this show since the first flashback to Aaron's childhood, and Belichick's words echo his father's refrain.

“The Man” isn’t a bad episode of Aaron HernandezReally; Nothing here is as eye-opening as last week's harassment backstory. But there's also nothing as focused, detailed and uniquely bizarre as this episode's deep dive into the NFL Draft and Scouting Combine. It's an average episode of this series, a general introduction to this time in Aaron's life, and it contains the usual over-the-top foreshadowing and matter-of-fact dialogue about how Aaron must fit into the shape. But so far I'm really liking Norbert Leo Butz's version of Belichick, it feels more alive and believable than most, if not all, of the other performances on this show. He's a tough guy, but also quirky and wry, with a funny wink when he talks about the history of the spread offense.

Aaron continues to rage on the field, which is pretty much the only place where he can regularly feel like himself. The fame probably helps; He's the youngest player in the league and he deserves to do a somewhat confusing “make it rain” touchdown dance if he wants to. He only begins to lose his confidence when Belichick forces him to play running back, a position he's convinced he can't nail down. It's a convenient thematic parallel to the recurring idea that Aaron wasn't given the time or space to truly grow up and be himself. Later in the episode, when Belichick scolds him for bragging to the press, he replies, “I was just being myself, coach,” to which Belichick replies, “Don't be.” The message is clear.

However, Aaron manages to fit a square peg into a round hole for the simple reason that he is incredibly talented. His big run against the Broncos is a victorious moment, but it is immediately dashed by a hard hit that disorientates him and keeps him losing consciousness, even hours later. Aaron Hernandez hasn't devoted much time to the CTE, which likely played a major role in Hernandez's downward spiral, perhaps just because it's difficult to derive drama from a medical issue that has been largely ignored. But this is an effective sequence as Maggie Kiley's direction really immerses us in Aaron's point of view. Even the light, congratulatory helmet claps of his teammates have an explosive effect.

Off the field, “The Man” brings the series’ focus back to Aaron’s personal life. Aaron may be famous in Boston and beyond, but in Bristol he's a mega-celebrity. Inviting Shayanna to a party with the Krafts may be self-serving – he needs to prove that he is a respectable young man who has cleaned up his ways and is ready to grow up – but he has a genuine affection for her. As they eat pizza together on an overpass and joke about rich people's penchant for small plates, their connection is obvious. They want the same thing, including a way out of Bristol, a way to escape the family baggage and forge their own path. The two go well together. The only problem really is that Aaron isn't particularly attracted to women.

Their relationship thrives nonetheless, and it's only when Shayanna hangs out with some other NFL wives and girlfriends that she questions her assumptions about Aaron's sexual appetite. Of course, Aaron is technically telling the truth when he assures her that there are no other women in his life. But if he would tell full To be honest, he would probably tell her that the night with Chris was the best feeling he'd had in a long time. When Chris (who also now has a girlfriend) asks Aaron if he loves Shayanna, there is no answer.

While Aaron wants to project the image of someone who surrounds himself with wholesome influences, his preferred support system largely comes from his cousin Tanya and his shady hometown friends like Carlos and Bo. This group now includes their weed dealer Sherrod, who is clearly bad news. The two quickly become friends after an initial miscommunication, and after hearing Aaron complain about his stepfather Jeff, Sherrod offers some ill-timed encouragement: “There's no one responsible for you.”

This series' depiction of competing positive and negative influences is somewhat superficial, with the latter inevitably winning out. But aside from the cheesy portentousness of the constant references to prison and the contrived way Sherrod keeps telling Aaron to break his foot, there's something interesting about the comparison he makes between the NFL and prison. If you're not ready for this life – and it's easy to see that Aaron wasn't – the lack of freedom can be particularly crushing.

One day, when Jeff hits Terri in the face with a kitchen knife, Aaron finds a perfect outlet for his anger, an ideal scenario to lose control and feel like a man. Using Sherrod's gun, Aaron brutally beats Jeff outside a bar and threatens to kill him if he touches Terri again. It's hard to feel sorry for the guy considering what he did to Terri, but that's beside the point. Each act of violence brings Aaron closer to a point of no return. We know where this ends.

• This opener within the show caught me for a second, which I appreciate, but it's not exactly a compliment Aaron Hernandez that a silly anti-drug demonstration feels like a normal occurrence.

• Jon Bon Jovi actually considers Belichick his “best friend in the game,” and the coach's 2013 pump-up playlist included two Bon Jovi songs, so it's not at all an exaggeration that he belts out “It's My Life.” listened. ”

• Silly but funny performance by Laith Wallschleger as Gronk.

• Time gets a little confusing here, but I think the Broncos' last game should be the playoff game near the end of Hernandez's second season with the Pats in January 2012. Hernandez left the game with a head injury after a successful debut as the lone running back, then insisted, “I'm ready, baby.” “I feel great” after the game ended.

• The real Jeffrey Cummings was convicted of punching Terri in the face, although the timing here isn't quite right. It wasn't his first incident either.

• The image of the turn signal switching is very disturbing.