f I had friends who watched The Shield, we’d probably have an inside joke—a phrase, maybe, wherein we’d say that one could “Vic Mackey” something. Vic Mackey-ing something would involve the commandeering or confiscating of an object by force, though not necessarily by the violent means which said character generally resorts to on the show, and almost certainly with less brutalizing of minorities. Of course, the rest of the cast of Strike Team misfits would later be incorporated into our vernacular: one could “Vendrell” (by, say, accidentally setting one’s house on fire) or even “Ronnie” (by disappearing for whole episodes), though presumably the less popular “getting Aceveda’d” (*cough*) would fall by the wayside.

But all of this is a pipe dream. I don’t have any friends who watch The Shield.

To begin, the show airs on FX, where it headlines the network’s manly fire/army trifecta, alongside Denis Leary’s Rescue Me and Steven Bochco’s Over There. (Ostensibly, the soft-core porn-cum-slasher flick melodrama that is Nip/Tuck would have something to offer folks my age—and I’m avoiding the h-word here—but it’s too self-conscious to be enjoyed ironically.) With all the smash-cutting and non-stop action, you get the sense that I>The Shield’s producers are acutely aware of the network they reside on, how they need to draw in channel surfers like a Venus fly trap because there’s no built-in audience when you’re following 2-hour blocks of That 70’s Show reruns.

Channel-related bias aside, there’s the fact that a lot of 20-somethings still aren’t too keen on cops, let alone cop dramas. Sure, Law & Order is a classic, but The Shield is Dick Wolf’s creation stripped of all but the scenes when Jesse L. Martin is chasing dudes, and Jerry Orbach’s (R.I.P.) funny-but-not-really grandpa-style one-liners. Michael Chiklis’ Vic Mackey is testosterone personified, with a heaping helping of womanizing and an extremely tiny (but palpable!) dash of racism thrown in. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that the racist undercurrent sometimes makes the show uncomfortable to watch, but in its defense, well, that’s probably how real police departments work. Whether this was intentional or not is something that, as someone who wants to be able to continue viewing the show in semi-good conscience, I’d rather not know.

Heap on top of these factors the myriad problems that come built into any long-running ensemble drama—labyrinthine storylines that are impenetrable to new viewers; little star power aside from the occasional guest—and you seem to have a recipe for disaster. So why, in its fifth season, is The Shield looking better than ever?

Like most shows, The Shield moves in circles. At least once per season, it’s a given that Mackey and his clique will be on the brink of being found out, their hastily swept tactics peeking out from under the rug and almost tripping up the Strike Team once and for all. And while things may force the quartet apart for brief periods, it’s also a given that they’ll find a way to get back together a short time later. But this year, after an ominous and decidedly “down” ending to season four, it seems that Mackey’s demise could finally be within sight.

In Forest Whitaker, The Shield has found its perfect pseudo-villain, someone who we might not mind watching as he takes Vic down. Less smarmy than Aceveda and less, uh, drug dealer-y than Antwon Mitchell, Lieutenant Jon Kavanaugh is the first to come along trying to nail Mackey and the boys for the right reasons—not for personal gain, but because what they’re doing is against the law. Gone is the maternal and lenient overseer of Captain Monica Rawling, and apparently here to stay is the hard-edged and unforgiving Kavanaugh, the antithesis of his nemesis Mackey in more than just physical appearance. Where Vic’s temper often flies, Kavanaugh keeps a steady, gum-offering hand, quietly assessing his subject until he feels he has enough knowledge of them to strike. It would be a fitting irony to see this slow-working, methodical investigator unravel the Strike Team due to their leader’s impetuous mistakes.

But as satisfying or disheartening as it may be to see Mackey go down once and for all (and I’m steadfast in the belief that I won’t know which way I’ll feel until the moment actually comes), what could possibly be left for The Shield if he was stripped of his badge? Vic Mackey: Landscaper just doesn’t have the same appeal—what’s Green Lantern without his ring? In reality, we’ll probably never have to find out. Even with Whitaker seemingly being brought in as the guest to end all guests, and hacks like myself gushing like Carl and Scooby left down in the sewer, in the end it seems unlikely that the show could stand to lose Chiklis’ gruff intensity. (Dutch, while great comic relief, hardly seems a suitable substitute.) We might pose and postulate until we’re blue, but in the end all that’s left to do is wait for the season finale, where after six long months of work, an exhausted Kavanaugh leaves a few bags full of evidence out on his desk overnight, only to have Vic Mackey Vic Mackey the shit out of them.