The Lasso Way
Notes on The Fool Triumphant. Plus: "Succession," Kim Cattrall and Matty Healy.
Warning: Spoilers ahead.
Ted Lasso was slinging the Dad Jokes fast and furious, once more before leaving London behind, and I laughed because: How could I not? A good Dad Joke is an art. It derives humor from how dorky and obvious it is, with the joke-teller totally in on the joke. In the finale of his namesake Apple+ series, Ted (Jason Sudeikis), the Kansas-born coach of the fictional AFC Richmond football club, returns to form, essentially turning the locker room into the Comedy Cellar — that is, if the famed stand-up venue were showcasing the dorkiest, but still the funniest, father figure on your block. At one point, Ted casually dubs Trent Crimm (James Lance), the journalist writing a book about Richmond, “Trenthouse Magazine,” and while addressing players before a big game, he observes: “I’m like Michael Flatley at 11:59 p.m. on St. Patrick’s Day. I’m tapped out, you know what I mean?”
Ted, the focal point of the first and second seasons, had receded into the background of the third, frustrating viewers who missed his steady presence and folksy rambles. Richmond owner Rebecca Welton (the luminous Hannah Waddingham) initially recruited this goofy, mustachioed outsider to tank the team and embarrass her ex-husband, its previous owner. It was extremely satisfying to watch Ted disarm his skeptics, one by one, reining in egos, Phil Jackson-style, and emphasizing character and team-building from the inside out. “For me, success is not about the wins and losses,” he told Trent soon after starting his job. “It’s about helping these young fellas be the best versions of themselves on and off the field.” At first, Trent arched his enviable Brooke Shields eyebrows. He found this attitude well-meaning but woefully shortsighted and woo-woo. Ted, as Logan Roy might say, is not a serious person.
In popular culture, Ted occupies the role of The Fool Triumphant. The “fool” whom others overlook and underestimate, yet ultimately flouts expectations and triumphs, making his skeptics look stupid for turning their noses to begin with. He belongs in great company, in a category with these endearing underdogs: Josh Baskin in Big, Elle Woods in Legally Blonde, Billy Beane in Moneyball, Bridget Jones in Bridget Jones’s Diary and Anne Shirley in Anne of Green Gables. Recently, New York Times columnist Tish Harrison Warren called Ted a “modern-day holy fool,” someone “so profoundly out of step with the broader world that they appear to be ridiculous or even insane and often invite ridicule. And yet, they teach the rest of us how to live.” She continued:
In a time when our culture is marked by outrage, division and cynicism, Ted Lasso calls us back to humility. He asks us to lighten up a little, to not take ourselves too seriously. In doing so, he reminds everyone he encounters — including us watching at home — of our shared humanity. We are all, in the end, not winners or losers, successes or failures, pure heroes or villains, but people who long to be known, loved and delighted in. This is the gift of Ted Lasso. He shows us what’s possible when we give up winning — soccer games, power grabs, professional success, culture wars or online fights — and, however foolish it may be, choose to root for the people all around us.
While Ted did a disappearing act, season three pushed other characters to the center, including the footballer Jamie Tartt (Phil Dunster), so that we could see the effects of The Lasso Way playing out in their personal and professional lives. (Cynically, the Ted-less episodes also opened the door for future spinoffs.) Jamie, formerly a snarling man-boy, blossomed under Ted’s umbrella to become humbler and more generous, qualities that scored extra points on the field and beyond. To improve his game, he even agreed to participate in early-morning training sessions with Richmond assistant coach Roy Kent (Brett Goldstein) — that was quite the big step for Jamie, who earlier would have too much pride to solicit help. Together, Jamie and Roy sparked a charming bromance, two unlikely allies forming a family within a family. They chucked their fixed mindsets and helped each other grow, all on their own. As it happened, they didn’t really need Ted anymore.
This season earned rightful criticism for structural inconsistencies, such as major plot developments happening off-camera. We wanted a scene that showed Nate (Nick Mohammed) standing up to weaselly Rupert (Anthony Head) and, echoing Hathaway in Prada, saying something like, “But what if this isn’t what I want? … I mean, what if I don’t want to live the way you live?” (WE NEED CLOSURE, SUDEIKIS.)
Anyway. The final episode had some hiccups. In a scene at Ted’s desk, he and the Diamond Dogs really double down on verbalizing the show’s life lessons, thereby undercutting the emotional power of what could be left unstated. I arched my over-plucked 1990s eyebrows when Trent allows Ted to read his book manuscript ahead of publication. He says, “I want you to like it” (Trent: no!), then takes the coach’s biased feedback and changes the title from The Lasso Way (perfection) to The Richmond Way (too general!). It was never about me, Ted explains in his critique, and yes: We know this. Still, without Ted as the catalyst for change, that book would not exist. But always in Ted Lasso, the pros outweigh the cons. The Michael Flatley joke. Coach Beard (Brendan Hunt) faking a ruptured appendix to get off an international flight, and later marrying his girlfriend at Stonehenge. The flash-forward of Sam Obisanya (Toheeb Jimoh) playing football for Nigeria. Rebecca, whose journey was arguably the most interesting and heroic of the bunch, running into the hot, single, houseboat-dwelling pilot whom she met in Amsterdam, and him saying “It’s you” in homage to Sleepless in Seattle. Swoon.
As Ted goes home to be with his son, the universe he created in England remains. I want shows for both Rebecca and Trent, who should star in his own cozy Masterpiece mystery. The premise: An erstwhile newspaper reporter investigates murders in the Cornwall countryside. Doesn’t that description make you want to curl up underneath a blanket with a hot cup of tea on a rainy evening? Once the WGA strike concludes, the group behind Only Murders in the Building should handle the pilot — and expand their writer’s room! On that note, kudos to the scribes who made Ted so magic: Sudeikis, Hunt, Goldstein, Bill Lawrence, Joe Kelly, Jane Becker, Jamie Lee, Bill Wrubel, Leann Bowen, Phoebe Walsh, Ashley Nicole Black, Sasha Garron, Keeley Hazell, Dylan Marron and Chuck Hayward. Thank you.
A few words on other pop-culture happenings:
The Succession finale: Tom Wambsgans! The successor, hiding in PLAIN SIGHT, in boxy suits, all this time. TikTok sleuths connected the dots leading up to Sunday’s nail-biter, correctly guessing that Tom (Matthew McFadyen), the power-hungry company man, would assume the throne at Waystar-Royco. Their prediction originated with a piece of vintage sports trivia: During the 1920 World Series, Major League Baseball infielder Bill “Wamby” Wambsganss made history with an unassisted triple play, taking out three rivals at once. He went on to manage the Fort Wayne Daisies in the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League — I came across his bio while doing research for my new book, No Crying in Baseball, and I thought immediately of Tom, his name twin: What a weird coincidence! I didn’t think anything of it. I never predicted that Tom could be The One. Honestly, I assumed that Shiv (Sarah Snook) would win her late father’s crown, yet I ignored the warning signs, the macho business dealings of oligarchs who, like the Roy patriarch, can’t fit a whole woman in their heads. Now she’s … Lady Macbeth? Oof. All told, what a pleasure to witness Succession’s brilliant, nuanced acting and writing over the seasons. What a relief that it’s all over. The Homeland-levels of stress. It was too much for a Sunday night. (You know I’m right!)
Kim Cattrall: My world stopped spinning on its axis the second I learned that Cattrall would resurrect her fabled alter ego, Samantha Jones, in an upcoming episode of And Just Like That, which launches its second season on June 22. Without Samantha’s humor, warmth and swagger, the Sex and the City reboot feels incomplete, even dreary. Her presence was indirectly felt in season one, when she sent an immaculate flower arrangement for Big’s funeral, and when Carrie Bradshaw texted her a few times, trying to rekindle their friendship after a falling-out. In a case of life imitating art, Cattrall began to distance herself from the franchise seven years ago as her apparently one-sided feud with Sarah Jessica Parker (innocent!) reached a boiling point. SJP did not approach her to be part of And Just Like That — too much public drama — and so I genuinely gasped upon hearing Variety’s scoop that Cattrall had filmed one scene back in March. She managed to avoid seeing her former co-stars. One might imagine that SJP had pulled strings behind the scenes, but no: HBO CEO Casey Bloys made the ask. Meanwhile, it is my distinct pleasure to announce that Bloys is the recipient of the 2023 Nobel Peace Prize. Congratulations!!!
Matty Healy: Every few months, Jia Tolentino drops an irresistibly zeitgeist-y article in The New Yorker, and I must read it immediately. This week, the magazine published her profile of Healy, the lead singer of The 1975 who is now in the spotlight for dating Taylor Swift. “Neither of their representatives would comment on the record,” Tolentino writes, “but I kept getting texts from people who knew them, and who insisted: this time, it’s real.” Though Taylor informed fans at a recent stop on her Eras tour that she’s happier than ever, “in all aspects of my life,” Swifties are in revolt, urging their idol to dump him. Healy, a walking red flag, is the opposite of Taylor’s ex-boyfriend, Joe Alwyn. He is messy, unpredictable, attention-seeking, and controversial, popping up on mean-spirited, fringe-y podcasts, like the one in February where he laughed at racist comments about the rapper Ice Spice. He eventually apologized onstage during a concert, seeming reluctant to do so, and speaking with Tolentino, who took notes as he put his foot in his mouth, he dismissed his critics as “a bit mental for being hurt.” Concurrently, Taylor, a pro at public relations, invited Ice Spice to collaborate on a new edition of her song “Karma.” I predict that in a few months’ time, once the lavender haze wears off, she’ll come to her senses and put an end to her indie-sleaze era. Related: Has anyone checked on Tree Paine?