I stumbled into Ted Lasso in the most roundabout way. Not through Apple TV hype, not through friends raving about it — but through a Brett Goldstein stand-up special. I had no idea who he was, but I loved his dry routine. Halfway through, he jokes about becoming more famous for his role as Roy Kent, growly and grumpy and yet somehow deeply lovable. I thought: “All right, let’s give this thing a shot.”
Fast-forward a couple of evenings later. Our daughter was at her grandparents, which in parenting terms means one thing: binge freedom. I devoured three seasons in a matter of days. And I’m not exaggerating when I say this is one of the most profound character journeys I’ve seen on screen. I laughed hard. I teared up often. And I walked away with lessons about leadership that hit me right in the gut.
More Than Football
Here’s the setup: Ted Lasso, an American football coach, gets hired to manage AFC Richmond, a Premier League soccer club in London. He knows nothing about the sport. The club’s new owner, Rebecca, fresh out of a divorce, hires him with ulterior motives. She wants the team to fail.
On paper it’s a comedy of errors. But within an episode, it’s clear the real story isn’t about football tactics. It’s about leadership. About kindness. About the kind of patience and positivity that most people underestimate — until it quietly reshapes everything around it.
And that’s why the show hit me so hard. Because this is my default mode of leadership too. In job interviews, I’ve been asked whether I can be the “alpha,” the “gorilla on the rock.” And sure, I can roar when needed. But my baseline is closer to Ted: supportive, encouraging, sometimes goofy, but always standing my ground when it matters.
Layers of Culture and Character
What makes Ted Lasso so rich isn’t just Ted’s relentless optimism. It’s the way the show weaves in cultural friction, personal struggle, and unexpected depth.
- Cultural clashes between the U.S. and U.K. are constant, and hilarious. Same language, different worlds. (And yes, America, football really should be called throwball.)
- Dutch flavor: there’s an entire storyline set in Amsterdam, with sunflowers and Ajax, and a blunt young Dutch player whose honesty made me laugh out loud. It felt like a wink straight at home.
- Nigerian roots: the team includes multiple Nigerian players, and with them come subplots about identity, family, and even starting a Nigerian restaurant. As someone raising a Dutch–Nigerian family, those threads resonated deeply.
- Mental health: the show doesn’t shy away from panic attacks, grief, or the quiet weight of loneliness. And yet, it handles them with a gentleness that makes them land even harder.
And then there’s Roy Kent. Grumpy on the outside, mushy on the inside, and the perfect counterweight to Ted’s sunny optimism.
Endings, and New Beginnings
By the time I reached the end of season three, I was convinced I had just watched the perfect series finale. Twelve episodes, all threads tied together. It was done. Full stop.
But no. A fourth season is on its way. Not a direct continuation, but a spin-off. From what I gather, Ted heads back to Kansas to coach a women’s team. It’s a bold move. Honestly, I don’t think you can “top” season three’s finale — it’s a near-perfect ending. But then again, isn’t that exactly the spirit of the show? To believe something good might still surprise you?
Why You Should Watch It
Even if you don’t care about soccer. Even if you’ve never kicked a ball in your life. Ted Lasso isn’t about sport. It’s about life. About leading without being a bully. About finding joy in small moments. About dealing with loss, love, and everything messy in between.
And maybe, about daring to believe.
So if you’ve been late to the party like me, go watch it. Laugh. Cry. Take notes. And maybe, just maybe, bring a little more Ted into the way you lead.
What's on your mind?