Season 4 Episode 4 "Blindside"

This episode is like getting punched in the gut by a lover. It hurts as much as it surprises. A once loving and tender touch that turns suddenly cruel. It leaves you breathless and reeling from the abrupt and unprovoked brutality of the attack. That's what it's like.

A 90's IRL troll is riding his dirtbike on the sands of Baywatch, recklessly careening between bikini-clad sunbathers and disbelieving volleyball enthusiasts. No one seems able to stop the madman, until a lone figure on a chestnut stallion rides out of the blinding midday sun to cheesy synthesized western music, waving a lasso aloft, closing in on the ruffian. He hurls it with expert precision, the stuntman catches it around the neck but through quick editing, the actor is harmlessly snared around the shoulders as he tumbles to the surf, our cowboy savoir trotting up to gloat.

That's when it happens. You refuse to believe it. What? How? Is it really him?

The first season of Baywatch is a thing of true beauty. Particularly the latter half, which prominently featured three of the most awesome, late 80's trope-ful TV characters of all time. Craig, a straight-shooting LA lawyer who lifeguards in his free time for the thrill and escape from his straight-laced life. Eddie, the heart-of-gold young spitfire from Jersey who's just as inexperienced as he is tough. And John D. Cort, the nihilistic rock n roll drifter who no one can nail down. Ladies can't tame him, danger doesn't phase him, he laughs at the impossible, his every action artfully waltzing the line between boyishly charming and flat out illegal. These dudes got up to the craziest shit when they were left to their devices. It was magic, heroic television that NBC promptly cancelled.

Hasselhoff goes executive producer on everyone's ass, tilts the show's head back to clear the airway, and with one gust from his mighty German lungs, revives it instantly. But it's a far cry from the way it used to be. The audience of syndicated television is different from that of a major broadcast network. Budgetary problems and uncertainty about the show's future caused several fan favorites not to return. There's a totally different kid playing Hobie. They are talking like Craig is gone for good, quickly mentioning his "move to Seattle" and "kids on the way." Eddie's role is totally reduced to being the love interest of that girl from Under Siege. And worst of all, Cort has inexplicably vanished. We learned to adjust, and, heads hanging low, we marched on into the future.

And now here he is again. Everyone is glad to see him, even characters who shouldn't know who he is, namely CJ, who is apparently in love with him? Ok they didn't work very hard at it. But it's easily forgivable, they brought him back! It's fucking Cort, hell yeah! What antics will he get up to? How many women will fall victim to his roguish good-looks? How many cocaine deals, petty robberies, and animal poachings can he heroically prevent using only guts and brawn? He's talking like he plans to stay, and everyone is, to borrow a Cali-ism, totally stoked.

That's when, punctuated with overly dramatic music, we see that something is wrong. A swimmer almost drowns right in front of his tower. He reaches for things and misses, or knocks them over, laughing it off as being overwhelmed by being back and out of practice. At Mitch's urging he visits a doctor, discovering that he has a rare eye condition that will eventually leave him totally blind, and to make matters worse, this eventuality will be accelerated by exposure to the sun. The news choked down, embarrassingly huge, dark glasses in hand, he bids farewell to the girl he never technically met but had strong feelings for, and to the beach he used to call home, and walks off the show three seasons after walking off the show. He just wants to see the beauty in the world before the lights go out.

...

Ow, Baywatch. How could you?

Also there's this stupid subplot about Hobie meeting this huge freak show performer who just wants to carve seagulls out of driftwood. He helps make his dream come true by freeing him from his abusive master and somehow setting him up with the capital to open a carved seagull stand on the boardwalk, which of course is a huge success, since everyone loves roughly hewn poultry made of driftwood. There's a song about how "everyone needs a friend/ even the pelican man." Oh my god it's like the show gives you cheese-grater wounds and salt water to rinse.