Ted talk

Brendan Hunt, Jason Sudeikis, Brett Goldstein and Nick Mohammed, Emmy nominees all for Apple TV's "Ted Lasso."

Photo via IMDB     

After worries about a sophomore slump, followed by the sticky-sweet Christmas episode that improbably streamed in the middle of August, there was concern that Apple TV's breakout comedy hit “Ted Lasso” might be losing its way. After all, rising from an unknown quantity to a record-setting 20 Emmy nominations after just one season is akin to going from zero to 100 in no time flat. It's a neck-snapping sensation beyond most humans' capacity to process, much less survive.

Not to worry. Last Friday's installment about the hayseed American football coach (Jason Sudeikis) who finds himself coaching a British soccer team despite knowing nothing about the sport, was the best episode ever.

Ted Lasso himself is beyond many humans' capacity to process. For openers there's his ridiculous optimism despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. His Tedness lies in his way with words that turns goofball pronouncements into poetry and throwaway lines into Zen thoughts for the day. Sudeikis, like Mark Twain, plays the fool with brilliance more befitting a MacArthur “genius grant” recipient.

His Ted talks have me reaching for pen and paper to jot down notes, the way I did in grad school studying Shakespeare. Reportedly, actual coaches have made the show required viewing for their teams. In the latest episode he tries to boost his team's sagging spirits with a pep talk that begins, “I believe in communism.” Turns out he's talking about “romcommunism” – the chemistry of rom-coms, romantic comedies that find their way to happy endings no matter how deep the dark forest.

His team – an assortment of athletes from a veritable United Nations of homes – has gotten on Ted's wavelength for season two. Manly men all, they chime in with their own rom-com favorites, from “the three Kates” – Beckinsale, Hudson, Winslet – to Renee Zellweger.

That's another signature of the show. Every episode sneaks in movie references, and musical allusions, heavy on Reba McEntire and Jimmy Buffett, tumbling from Ted's lips, although they often require some 'splainin' to his mostly English listeners.

Ever-present assistant Coach Beard (Brendan Hunt, Sudeikis' writing partner who co-developed the show), is there to translate Ted's Americanisms for the Brits and otherwise reveal the mysterious workings of the Lasso mind. Coach Beard's laconic pauses and deadpan reaction shots are as hilarious as Ted's loquaciousness and mustache. Together they are like appendages of the same mind, the same comic genius mind, with the perfect pitch and timing of the great duos of yore.

For those unfamiliar with the series, last season was the setup. Fresh off guiding the Wichita State Shockers to a Division II football championship. Ted, in the throes of a painful separation, accedes to his wife's request for “more space.” His bond with his young son is collateral damage in the split. Ted accepts an offer from Richmond Greyhounds team owner Rebecca Welton (Hannah Waddington), to coach her Premier League franchise, not realizing that she's trying to sabotage the team – her ex-husband's pride and joy – after a humiliating divorce.

While the situation hints at pathos just beneath Ted's unflagging cheer, you expect the outcome to be predictable enough. Except you're wrong. Like the coach himself, first impressions are deceiving, and nothing is as it seems in this fish-out-of-water scenario that plays out like a PBS Masterpiece Theater with a Beverly Hillbilly in the central role.

As evidenced by all the Emmy nominations (Hunt, Brett Goldstein, Nick Mohammed, Jeremy Swift for best supporting actor; Waddingham and Juno Temple for supporting actress), it's not a one-man show. For all of Sudeikis' dazzling range, the show is very much an ensemble effort, with every character emerging brilliantly. Waddingham, for instance, is a commanding blond Amazon who, despite her own abiding insecurities, has the unconscious ability to turn any male in her presence, or in the audience, into a bumbling 12-year-old boy. 

Goldstein's Roy Kent is a legendary player now suffering the ravages of age. His snarls and one-word vocabulary (it begins with F) are pure poetry. And let us not forget Dani Rojas (Cristo Fernandez), with his “futball is life” smile as bright as a 100-watt bulb. Or Ms. Temple's sexy and wise marketing maven Keeley Jones. Or … or … The kudos go on and on, and standing behind the cast are the writers putting those glorious lines in their mouths.

After “Ted Lasso's” first season, pundits analyzed its juggernaut success saying Ted's oblivious optimism was just the antidote to four years of Trumpist toxic narcissism, paranoid distrust, tribal exclusivity and seething contempt … capped by a year of lockdown that could break any spirit. With his doofus demeanor providing camouflage, Ted Lasso is a great reminder that true wisdom, like compassion, comes dressed in humility. Or in this case, a black puffy jacket with a greyhound on the heart.

It took the Emmys' last comedy phenomenon “Schitt's Creek” six seasons to accomplish what “Ted Lasso” did in one. It's a love fest, pure and simple, and you laugh out loud just to be invited.