Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today we are doing
something a little bit different. Yeah, very
different actually. Usually we look at a specific
book or maybe a scientific paper, but today we
are looking at a cultural artifact. Right. A
piece of television history. Exactly. We are
setting the coordinates for late 1988, specifically
to a basement bar in Boston where everybody knows
your name. I love that bar. Right. But we aren't
just popping in for a quick beer. We are dissecting
season seven of the legendary sitcom Cheers.
And honestly, if you were a television executive
in late 1988, you were probably sweating bullets.
Oh, absolutely. Because this wasn't just another
season of a hit show. basically a battlefield.
It really was. You look at the context and it's
just chaotic. We were talking about a season
that didn't even premiere until October 27. Which
is wildly late. Right. Usually the fall season
kicks off in September like clockwork. But in
1988, televisions across America were just stuck
in this rerun purgatory. Because of the 1988
Writers Guild of America strike. And this is
a massive piece of context that we have to wrap
our heads around before we even get to the jokes.
For sure. The whole industry had just ground
to a halt. The strike lasted 22 weeks. Over five
months. Yeah, that is the longest strike in the
Guild's history up to that point. So when Cheers
finally came back for Season 7, the audience
was definitely starving for content, but the
network was... Terrified. Terrified because momentum
is everything in TV, right? You take a five -month
break and, you know, people might find something
else to do on a Thursday night. Exactly. They
break the habit. Right. Plus, Cheers was getting
quote -unquote old by 1988 standards. It had
been on the air for six years. Shelley Long had
left the previous season. The new car smell was
totally gone. Yeah, the seven -year itch isn't
just a movie title. It's a legitimate phenomenon
in television life cycles. By year seven, writers
usually run out of ideas, actors get bored, and
audiences start drifting toward the shiny new
thing. And look at the competition they had.
NBC had this must -see TV juggernaut, but the
lineup was shifting. Right. You had the Cosby
show and a different world leading into Cheers.
But Night Court had been moved to Wednesdays.
Oh, wow. I forgot about that. Yeah. And in its
place, they slotted in the new arrival, Dear
John. Dear John. Now there is a deep cut. That
was Judd Hirsch, right? That's the one. So Cheers
was the anchor. It had to hold the line for the
whole night. So the mission of this deep dive
today is to figure out how they didn't just survive
this turbulence, but how they thrived. We're
looking at how season seven cemented the rebooted
era of Cheers. Because this is where the show
stops mourning Diane Chambers and fully embraces
the absolute neurosis of Kirstie Alley's Rebecca
Howell. And it's also where the ensemble really
takes over. I think that's the key takeaway I
got from reading through all these episode guides
and critical essays. Oh, 100%. In the early years,
you could argue the show was basically the Sam
and Diane story featuring some guys at a bar.
But by season seven, it is a true ensemble piece.
You have Frasier and Lilith becoming comedy heavyweights.
Woody dealing with class warfare. And Cliff,
well, Cliff electrocuting himself. We will definitely
get to the electrocution later. But you're right.
This season is the bridge. It connects the classic
era to the final era. And it all hinges on one
character. Rebecca Howe. Let's unpack Rebecca,
because looking back at season six, her introduction
was very specific. She was the anti -Diane. Exactly.
She was a businesswoman. She wore those power
suits with shoulder pads that could take out
a linebacker. They were massive. She was cool.
She was collected. And she rejected Sam, not
because she was above him intellectually like
Diane did, but just because he was an employee.
Right. She was the ice queen. That was the archetype
they were going for. But here's the problem with
an ice queen in a sitcom. It gets boring fast.
So fast. A competent, successful person who enters
a room, gives orders, and leaves. That's not
funny. That's just a boss. So season seven is
basically the writers taking a sledgehammer to
that Ice Queen facade. It is a total deconstruction.
And it's brilliant. Critics at the time noticed
it immediately. Even though some critics still
thought she wasn't as compelling as Diane, others
specifically praised Kirstie Alley as this solid
comic force. Because of that over -the -top portrayal
of neurosis. She goes from being the person in
control to the person who is desperately, sweatingly,
panickedly pretending to be in control. And nothing
illustrates that better than her obsession with
the corporate ladder. The Lillian Corporation.
Yes. In season six, the corporation was just
her employer. In season seven, it's her religion.
She is chasing approval from these faceless executives
with a fervor that is almost pathological. It
creates this fantastic engine for stories. She
isn't motivated by romance. She's motivated by
a promotion. Take the executive suite saga. This
is episodes three and four. It's a two -parter,
which signals that the writers knew they had
something big here. This is the Martin Thiel
arc, and it is painful to watch in the best way
possible. So painful. Rebecca finds out there
is a new executive vice president, Martin Thiel.
She has never met him, but she is already intimidated.
She's prepping her speeches, fixing her hair,
trying to look perfect. And then she gets stuck
in an elevator with a young guy. He's short,
he looks about 19 years old, and he's hitting
on her. So she does what any highly professional
corporate climber would do. She dismisses him.
She treats him like a total gnat. Because in
her mind, power looks like an old white guy in
a suit. It doesn't look like this kid. But then
the doors open and... The kid is Martin Thiel.
The nepotism hire. The look on Kirstie Alley's
face when that realization hits is pure gold.
But this is where the neurosis kicks in. Right,
because a normal person might apologize. A normal
person might make a joke of it. But Rebecca how?
She invents a complex lie that she is in a serious
relationship with the bartender Sam Malone. Just
to make herself unavailable so Teal doesn't fire
her or hit on her again. It's the classic sitcom
lie that spirals way out of control, but the
stakes feel so high for her. She is so terrified
of losing her status that she agrees to let Sam
play her boyfriend. And Martin Teal, being the
petty tyrant he is, rehires her as the manager,
but demotes Sam back to bartender. It shifts
the power dynamic in the bar instantly. But the
escalation is what defines this season. Rebecca
can't just tell the truth. She digs the hole
deeper and deeper. It gets to the point where
Martin Thiel actually proposes marriage. And
she accepts. Well, she doesn't say no. She faints.
She literally loses consciousness rather than
deal with the confrontation. That is the definition
of the season seven Rebecca. Avoidance through
physical collapse. And it leads to that insane
climax where she's in the wedding dress. ready
to fly to Cancun with this man -child she completely
despises just to keep the corporate dream alive.
Sam has to essentially stage a rescue mission.
It's farce, pure and simple. But it works because
we believe her desperation. We saw it in the
premiere, too. How to recede in business. Oh,
yeah, she gets fired by another VP, Greg Stone.
And she claws her way back in, but the terms
are humiliating. She has to work as a waitress
under Carla. Under Carla. That is the seventh
circle of hell for Rebecca. Carla hates her.
Carla wants to destroy her. But Rebecca takes
the job. Yeah. And why? This is the detail that
I just love. It's not because she needs to pay
rent. No, it's because she ordered a red Mercedes
-Benz. That is such a telling character detail.
She is willing to be humiliated serving beer
to Norm and Cliff, getting yelled at by Carla,
just as she can drive a car that projects the
image of success. It's the fake it till you make
it mentality taken to a pathological extreme.
There's one scene though that I think tops even
the wedding dress fainting. It's in episode 15,
Don't Paint Your Chickens. Oh, I know exactly
where you're going. The window washer scene.
The physical comedy here is... Maybe the best
Kirstie Alley ever did on the show. The setup
is that she's trying to impress another executive,
Mr. Anawalt. She's pitched him on using Norm
as a corporate painter. Which is already a shaky
premise. Very shaky. Right. But the deal falls
through. Norm is outside on the window washing
scaffolding. And he holds up a giant sign that
says NOJOB. He's trying to tell her the bad news
from outside. But Anawalt is in the office with
Rebecca. So Rebecca has to block the window.
But she can't just close the blinds because that
would be suspicious. So she uses her body. She's
spreading her arms. She's moving her head to
block specific letters. It's this frantic, ridiculous
dance. And the dialogue makes it perfect. She
is shouting at Anna while demanding respect,
telling him he doesn't appreciate her talent.
All while looking like a mime having a seizure.
And the irony is Anna Walt loves it. He thinks
she's showing courage. He's about to promote
her. He's impressed by her fire. And then the
FBI busts in. Insider trading. Anna Walt gets
hauled away in handcuffs right in front of her.
It's the cosmic joke of season seven. Every time
Rebecca gets close to the sun, the sun turns
out to be a heat lamp and it burns out. The universe
absolutely refuses to let her succeed, which
is what keeps her trapped in the bar. Which brings
us to the other major shift, the Sam and Rebecca
dynamic. In the early years with Diane. It was
intellectual warfare. It was the taming of the
shrew. But with Rebecca, especially in season
seven, it becomes something sleazier, but also
maybe more grounded. It's about leverage. It's
definitely not poetry. Take Hot Rocks, episode
17. The plot is absurd. Admiral William J. Crow,
the actual chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,
visits the bar. Which, by the way, is a massive
testament to the show's power. They got the sitting
chairman to do a cameo. And after he leaves,
Rebecca's $32 ,000 diamond earrings are missing.
And her immediate leap of logic is, the chairman
of the Joint Chiefs of Staff stole my jewelry.
Paranoia. Again, the neurosis. She completely
spirals. But Sam, Sam keeps a cool head. He looks
around and he spots the earrings. They fell into
a glass of water on the table. Now a good friend
would say, hey, here they are. A romantic partner
might say, oh, thank God you're safe. Sam alone.
Sam alone sees an opportunity. He realizes that
if she finds them, she will be flooded with relief
and endorphins. So he stages the scene. He literally
lies down on the table, posing like a centerfold
next to the water glass, waiting for her to spot
them so he can capitalize on the moment. It's
predatory, but it's played for laughs. It highlights
that their relationship is a game of tat and
rouse. But then at the end of that episode, they
drop the facade for a second. The test kiss.
Right. They decide to see if there's actually
anything there. They kiss. They pull apart. Sam
says, nah. Rebecca says, nah. But then when Sam
walks away, Rebecca whispers, maybe. And Sam
hears it. He pops back in with a ha. It ruined
the moment, but it saved the tension. It told
the audience, we know you know. We're getting
there. But not yet. It kept the engine running
without stalling it. Exactly. But while Sam and
Rebecca were playing these mind games, the rest
of the cast was doing some heavy lifting. We
called this deep dive the rise of the ensemble
for a reason. And I think the MVP candidates
for season seven have to be Frasier and Lewis.
Without a doubt. If you want to see the birth
of the show Frasier, you watch Cheers season
seven. This is the year where the writers realized
that the domestic life of two uptight psychiatrists
is an endless font of comedy. We have to talk
about the crane makers. Episode 16. I will go
on record saying this might be the funniest 22
minutes of the entire season. It's a masterpiece.
The premise is so simple, yet so perfect for
them. Fraser writes an article on the emotional
alienation of the modern man or something similar,
and he convinces himself that he and Lilith have
become too soft. Too urban. So they decide to
return to nature. They are going to live off
the land. In a cabin in Maine. No electricity.
No running water. Just two people who have never
held a tool in their lives trying to survive.
The visual of Frasier Crane in his expensive
flannel that looks brand new, trying to start
a fire by banging two rocks together, is etched
into my brain forever. He's getting increasingly
frustrated. His voice is rising to that shouty
baritone. And Lilith. Baby Newworth. is incredible
here she is sitting in the corner freezing starving
and what is she doing to comfort herself she's
reading a zagat guide yes she's reading a restaurant
review aloud the duck was succulent with a hint
of orange glaze it's pure masochism it highlights
the fundamental irony of their characters perfectly
they analyze human behavior for a living but
they have zero understanding of their own basic
needs they think they can just decide to be rustic
but they are creatures of comfort And the resolution
is perfect. They don't just give up, they flee.
They burst back into tears. Cheers later in the
episode, disheveled, covered in soot, looking
like they just survived war. And they order the
most expensive processed food available. It solidifies
their identity. They are the other. They don't
fit in the bar, but they definitely don't fit
in the woods. They exist in this bubble of pretension
that only they can inhabit. And then, of course,
there's the pregnancy. I kid you not. Episode
14. Lilith reveals she's pregnant. Which adds
real stakes to their whole dynamic. The scene
where they try to practice parenting with Carla's
son Ludlow is a disaster. Ludlow is a smart kid.
Very manipulative. He gives Frasier a hot foot.
He lights his shoelaces on fire. While they're
at the opera. It shows that for all their book
smarts, they're completely unprepared for the
chaos of a child. It's a great setup for the
whole Frederick arc. Also, there's Norm. Is that
you? Episode 6? Where Frasier and Lilith fire
their decorator and Norm takes over. Showing
again how their high class world is constantly
colliding with the blue collar bar world. Exactly.
Moving down the bar though, we have Woody. Season
7 was huge for Woody Boyd because it introduced
Kelly Gaines. Played by Jackie Swanson. This
is a brilliant tactical move by the writers.
Woody is the innocent form boy. How do you generate
conflict for a guy who has absolutely no malice?
You put him in a world he doesn't understand.
You put him in high society. Kelly is the daughter
of one of the heads of the Lillian Corporation.
She is wealthy beyond comprehension. But she's
also, well, she's not the sharpest knife in the
drawer either. She's Woody's intellectual match
just from a completely different tax bracket.
But the conflict comes from the class difference.
It's this Romeo and Juliet angle, but with way
more laughs. We have to discuss the gift of the
Woody, episode 19. It tackles this head on. It's
Kelly's birthday. Woody wants to get her a gift.
But then he sees what her friends are giving
her. Diamond necklaces. Sports cars. And Woody
has a bartender salary. He can't compete with
that. So Frasier, in his infinite and usually
wrong wisdom, tells Woody to give her something
priceless. A gift from the heart. A song. The
Kelly song. If you are listening to this and
you haven't heard this song, you are missing
a piece of television history. Woody gets up
at this fancy party. He's wearing his tuxedo.
He sits at the piano. and he begins to sing,
Kelly, Kelly, Kelly, Kelly, Kelly, Kelly. He
just says her name over and over again with different
inflections. K -E -L -L -Y. Why? Because you're
Kelly. It is excruciatingly simple. The guests,
these huge snobs, are staring at him like he's
an alien. There is a character named Nash, the
quintessential rich jerk, who is just ready to
tear him apart. But the twist is, Kelly loves
it. Because she's simple too. She thinks it's
beautiful. But Woody, Woody feels the shame.
He sees the reaction of the room. And this is
where the show gives Woody so much dignity. He
doesn't want to be the court jester. He realizes,
I can't afford this world. He goes out and spends
every dime he has on an expensive pendant, putting
himself in massive debt just to feel equal to
her peers. It's funny, but it's also genuinely
heartbreaking. It grounded Woody. He wasn't just
a cartoon character. He was a guy who knew he
was out of his depth, but loved this girl enough
to drown for her. That balance of heart and absurdity
is what Cheers did so well. Woody also had a
big moment in Bar Wars 2, episode 10. The prank
war against Gary's Old Town Tavern. Woody gets
hung upside down outside Cheers. The ultimate
gotcha moment where the Cheers gang tricks Gary
into thinking he won only to reveal the judge
was Carla's neighbor. Classic ensemble work.
And speaking of absurdity, Cliff Clavin. Cliff
had a very strange year. Strange is putting it
mildly. The writers really decided to push the
envelope with him. Let's talk about the shock
therapy episode, How to Win Friends and Electrocute
People. Episode 7. Cliff finally realizes, or
is told forcefully, that nobody likes his little
-known facts. He's annoying. So he tries a behavioral
modification technique. Which is straight up
laboratory psychology. He gives a shock button
to a therapist. Every time Cliff acts like a
know -it -all, the therapist zaps him. It's dark.
It's basically torturing a patron in a bar. But
the comedy comes from the escalation. The therapist
leaves the clicker. And eventually, the remote
control for the shocks ends up in the hands of
the bar patrons. Carla gets it. Carla gets it.
And you can imagine exactly how that goes. Cliff
is just getting buzzed left and right. But then
in a moment of pure hubris, Cliff tries to prove
he's cured and he ends up shocking himself. It's
slapstick, but it underlines that Cliff's personality
is immutable. You can electrocute him, but he's
still going to tell you about the migration patterns
of the buffalo. He also had a romance this season.
A doomed one, but a romance. Maggie O 'Keefe.
The trainee postal worker? This was in Please
Mr. Postman, episode 12. They are in a motel
room. It's scandalous for Cliff. But they are
there because postal regulations. Supposedly.
Cliff invents these ridiculous rules. But the
farce kicks in when they have to explain why
the postal truck is parked outside the motel.
Cliff tells the police or the neighbors that
the truck was hijacked. By thugs. By armed thugs.
It spirals out of control. Maggie gets fired
and she decides to move to Canada to work for
Canada Post. And she asks Cliff to go with her.
This is the Casablanca moment for Cliff Flavin.
He could leave. He could start a totally new
life with a woman who actually gets him. But
he looks around the bar, and the guys start singing.
The Ballad of the Green Berets. Which is such
a weird, specific choice. But it stirs something
in Cliff's patriotic, male -carrying heart. He
realizes he can't leave his post. He can't leave
Boston. It's tragic. He chooses the male and
the bar over love. It reinforces that these people
are stuck. They are barnacles on the hole of
cheers. Now, we've talked a lot about the characters
on screen, but we really have to pivot to what
was happening behind the cameras. Because while
the audience was laughing at the shock therapy,
the writing room was basically going through
a divorce. This is the creative exodus. And if
you are a fan of 90s television, these names
are absolute titans. David Angel, Peter Casey.
David Lee. The holy trinity of sitcom writing.
They'd been with Cheers for years. They were
instrumental in shaping the voice of the show.
But in March 1989, right as season seven was
wrapping up, they left. Why did they leave? To
form their own production company, Grub Street
Productions. Grub Street, named after the street
in London famously associated with impoverished
hack writers. Very self -deprecating. But their
output was anything but hack work. They went
on to create Wings, which ran for eight seasons
on NBC. And then a few years later, they took
the character of Frasier Crane and created Frasier.
So when we watch season seven of Cheers, specifically
episodes like The Crane Makers, we aren't just
watching Cheers. We are watching the pilot testing
for Frasier. 100%. Yeah. The DNA is identical.
The mix of highbrow dialogue with lowbrow slapstick.
The social humiliation of the intellectual. That
is the Angel Casey Lee signature right there.
When they left, they took a very specific flavor
with them. Cheers continued to be great, of course,
but the voice shifted slightly in season eight.
It became a bit broader, maybe a bit wackier.
Season seven is the last time you have that perfect
blend of the Charles Brothers' original vision
and the Grub Street wit. It's a massive turning
point in TV history. Now, speaking of history,
let's look at the what ifs. Because the casting
files for season seven are fascinating. Oh, they
are so juicy. Let's talk about Rebecca's sister.
Episode 21, Sisterly Love. We know the sister
Susan is played by Marcia Cross. She's great.
She plays the perfect sister who drives Rebecca
crazy. But she wasn't the first choice. The role
was originally cast with Joan Severance. And
the plot, the plot was completely different.
The original script had Sam Malone proposing
to Susan. proposing marriage to a woman he just
met. That was the idea. He would be so smitten
that he'd impulsively propose. That sounds wrong.
So wrong for the character. It felt wrong to
the producers, too. They realized that Marriage
Sam was not a character the audience wanted to
see yet. It felt desperate in a bad way. Plus,
Joan Severance had scheduling conflicts, so she
had to drop out anyway. So they scrapped the
proposal plot entirely. And what did they replace
it with? A staged murder prank. Which is infinitely
better. It is. Rebecca and Sam gaslight Susan
into thinking Rebecca has killed Sam. It fits
the tone of the season so much better. Yeah.
Dark, farcical, neurotic. Way better than a sappy
romance. There was another big miss too, right?
The season finale. The visiting lecher. We talked
about the closet scene earlier with Rebecca hiding
from Dr. Lawrence Crandall. The lecherous doctor.
That was a new character, but the role was originally
written for John Cleese. Basil Fawlty himself.
He had won an Emmy for playing Dr. Simon Finch
Royce in season five. The marriage counselor
who told Sam and Diane they should never see
each other again. Which was excellent advice,
by the way. It really was. The writers wanted
to bring him back. Imagine John Cleese in that
closet scene. The physical comedy would have
been nuclear. But Cleese was unavailable. So
they created Dr. Crandall instead. It worked
out, but it's one of those ghosts of the season
that makes you wonder what could have been. I
love those little behind -the -scenes nuggets.
Speaking of nuggets, let's do our rapid -fire
trivia section. These are the things you can
drop at a party to sound smart. First up, The
Mystery of the Righteous Brothers. This one drives
DVD owners completely crazy. In episode 12, Please
Mr. Postman Sam tries to seduce Rebecca. He finds
out her favorite song from high school. And he
plays it. In the original broadcast in 1988,
what was the song? You've Lost That Love and
Feelin'. Classic. Top Gun vibes. Exactly. But
if you buy the DVDs or stream it on Paramount
Plus today, you hear unchained melody. Why the
change? Music rights are a nightmare. Licensing
You've Lost That Love and Feelin' for perpetuity
was just too expensive, so they swapped it. But
here is the film theory part. It totally changes
the scene. How so? You've Lost That Love and
Feeling is a song about a relationship dying.
It's a bit aggressive. Sam playing that is a
power move. Unchained Melody is pure, unadulterated
romance. Oh, my love, my darling. Exactly. When
Sam plays that, it makes him seem genuinely romantic.
It softens the scene. It makes Rebecca's resistance
seem harder. That is wild. A copyright lawyer
basically changed the character motivation. Next
nugget. the mouse mickey mouse i still can't
believe this happened it was a special event
called mickey's 60th birthday it was a tv movie
where mickey goes missing nbc being the network
integrated it into their shows so mickey mouse
in the suit the actual costume character from
disneyland walks into cheers and he's not just
a background extra he has a whole plot He's amnesiac.
He doesn't know who he is. He's broke. He orders
two root beer floats. And Sam Malone tries to
pimp out Mickey Mouse. Stop it. He really does.
He knows Rebecca loves, well, maybe not Mickey
specifically, but he thinks it'll work. He gets
Mickey to sing happy birthday to Rebecca. And
does it work? Rebecca breaks down crying. She
starts sobbing about being old and alone. And
then she takes the mouse out to dinner. It is
the most surreal intersection of corporate synergy
and character depression I have ever heard of.
It just shows you how big Cheers was. Disney
didn't send Mickey to the Golden Girls. They
sent him to the bar. Last nugget. Skydiving.
Jumping Jerks, Episode 8. The peer pressure episode.
Woody Cliff and Norm agree to go skydiving. They
get up in the plane. They look out the door.
And they realize. We are insane. So they don't
jump. They stay in the plane. But when they get
back to the bar, they lie. They act like heroes.
Until Rebecca finds out. And this is where Rebecca's
specific brand of crazy comes in. She doesn't
just call them out. She forces them to go back
up. She brings a camera. She wants proof. The
shot of the guys in the plane the second time,
absolutely paralyzed with fear, is iconic. But
why does Rebecca care? She says she wants a man
who never fears danger. She's projecting. She
wants a hero because she feels so weak herself.
But the irony is, the only person in the bar
who actually engaged in risky behavior constantly
was Sam. It always circles back to Sam. Always.
So we've dissected the plots, the people, and
the production. But we have to ask the big question,
did it work? At the time, did the gamble pay
off? If you look at the Nielsen ratings, it was
a massive smash. Despite the delay, season seven
ended up as the fourth most watched show on television.
It had a 22 .5 rating. That means nearly a quarter
of all TV households were watching. That is Super
Bowl numbers today. It kept NBC's Thursday night
dominance alive, but the critics were a little
more skeptical. They missed Diane, didn't they?
They did. Joe Stein, a prominent columnist, wrote
that the season felt watered down. He felt the
spark was gone. The Pittsburgh Post -Gazette
called Rebecca annoying. They didn't get the
joke yet. Exactly. They thought the annoyance
was a flaw in the writing, not a choice in the
character. But over time, the appreciation grew
significantly. DVD Verdict did a retrospective
and gave the season a 90 % score. They recognized
that moving away from the Sam and Diane black
hole allowed the rest of the universe to breathe.
And the industry voters agreed. They certainly
did. Season seven won the Emmy for Outstanding
Comedy Series. It beat the Wonder Years. It beat
the Golden Girls. Plus, Woody Harrelson and Rhea
Perlman both won Emmys for Supporting Actor and
Actress. That is a statement. That is the industry
saying. We see what you did. You reinvented the
wheel while the car was moving. It validated
the ensemble approach. It validated Kirstie Alley.
It proved the show wasn't just a fluke. So as
we wrap up, let's try to summarize the legacy
of this specific season. I view Season 7 as the
stabilization season. Season 6 was the shock
of the new, with Rebecca arriving. Season 7 is
where the concrete dried. It established the
rules for the rest of the series run. Rebecca
is a mess. The ensemble carries the B plots.
The tone is broader. And it's the incubator.
That's the most important part for me. Without
season seven, without Angel, Casey, and Lee experimenting
with the cranes, without that specific friction
between high culture and low culture, we might
never have gotten Frasier. And Frasier went on
to win more Emmys than Cheers. In a way, season
seven of Cheers is the grandfather of 20 years
of NBC comedy dominance. It's the keystone. Remove
it. and the arch collapses. I think we have successfully
unpacked the neurotic strike -delayed Emmy -winning
chaos of 1988. I think so, too. Whether you are
currently hiding from your boss in a closet trying
to impress a rich girl with a terrible song,
or just trying to start a fire with two rocks,
remember, everyone starts somewhere, and these
characters definitely paved the way for modern
television. Thanks for listening. We'll catch
you on the next Deep Dive.