They’re playing The Rolling Stones to a montage of life; a husband walks to his wife and a once formidable football star returns to the pitch, accompanied by the familiar chant of his name, Roy Kent. This is just one montage; amongst several others that cements the legacy of the sports dramedy, Ted Lasso. It’s almost that same story, about the hometown team that finds its footing. That team is Richmond and Ted Lasso is the man that starts the difference.
It’s an important piece of streaming culture that gambles with being a comedy all the while capturing messiness and the behemoth crisis of being human, within sports, journalism and the everyday. Simply put, there’s enough redemption arcs, monologues and Walt Whitman to make the show life affirming, and in a world of uninspiring comedies, it ushers in something different.
The show’s intermingling web of arcs and plot – threads, is made whole by one man, coach Lasso. It knows how to centralise everything around him and the difference he makes. At first glance, Ted Lasso is any other mentor figure; he’s a modern-day Keating with just a hint of Lesley Knope and Jake Peralta. Yet, he’s so much more than that. This isn’t a dismissal of the mentor figure archetype; in fact, it is quite the opposite. Ted enhances the legacy of what a mentor looks like; he is broken and a dash of Whitman and poetic wisdom doesn’t exactly fix things for him. He is fundamentally trying to reinvent and navigate a system while remaining true to himself, he is simply a good person, who is bottling up every possible emotion while leading a team to smaller victories of life. The show follows him and his literal journey of a fish out water character, who struggles with the weight of everything. The show succeeds not because of a cold and calculated cynic, who has become a bit of household phenomenon in terms of television. It succeeds because of Ted, who does his best, to just be Ted.
The show fits into the mold as another ensemble feature, with one difference. When most features crumble under the pressure of an extensive cast, Ted Lasso shines because of it. And every character is given the time and space to become someone. It’s not just the story of a righteous college football coach. Take team Richmond’s manager, Rebecca Welton who compromises the wellbeing of others to see the downfall of her ex-husband’s football team, only for her to realise the pain she has caused everyone. There’s the ever present and energetic business mind Keeley Jones, who becomes more than the love interest of another footballer. Even recurring characters like psychologist Sharon Fieldstone and ex – journalist Trent Crimm are fleshed out into the story.
Then, there is team Richmond, made memorable by Jamie Tartt, who starts off as the show piece soloist who becomes the ultimate team player. There’s Sam Obisanya who rises through every trial that’s thrown at him only to score the winning goal in the show’s finale. There is the foil of Jamie Tartt, Roy Kent, who retires from the game and welcomes change. Isaac McAdoo grows from bully to the team’s torchbearer and Colin Hughes learns their worth and stands on their own. Then, there’s Dani Rojas, the unmistakable optimist of the lot; the literal personification of being caffeinated 24/7. He’s not just comic relief; he’s in many ways the heart of the team. This is it. Threads and a single web. That is the show, and a good chunk of that revolves around the friendships and connections the writers and directors focus on. Some of these friendships are obvious from the start; Ted and coach Beard are almost kindred spirits with fascinating and at times comical backstories that parallel Les Miserables. Others need the time and work to become something more; this is Rebecca’s story with Keeley Jones and Ted. The show doesn’t stop there; it dives headfirst into the almost unknown slow – burn friendship with Roy and Jamie. It embodies the trope and all its possibilities, namely the black cat, golden retriever dynamic which is entertaining and endearing to follow.
There are connections that change overtime, through betrayals and anger and insecurities. When I first watched the show, I was surprised by the storyline of Nate and Ted; men who had different upbringings who found some common ground as underdogs. Then, Nate used Ted’s own vulnerability against him to only confront a harsh truth about his insecurities. It took the third season’s homerun to break it apart and tape it back together. These continuous plotlines might have been the show’s undoing but the show delivered a finale, patched together and accompanied beautifully by Cat Steven’s Father and Son. It shows everyone, from Ted to Trent Crimm to the fan favourite Henry Higgins in a spotlight that perfectly encapsulates them as people. It’s a spotlight that they deserve. To this date the finale’s bittersweetness functions as the perfect bookend (season four might prove me wrong).
Dani Rojas throws this line around. ‘Football is life‘. It’s simple and it seems unassuming but it lays the truth as it is. It took playing football for me to know that. Ted Lasso is never just about football. It is about the many ups and downs we experience on route to life. It’s all in the show’s music, composed by Marcus Mumford; it’s in the full circle moments, the callbacks and slow – burns. It’s in every frame and every one liner. Simply put, it’s all in just being human.
Image: https://unsplash.com/photos/white-and-gray-adidas-soccerball-on-lawn-grass-qWs_Wa1JrKM/ Peter Glaser via Unsplash