The New Season of Ted Lasso Is Actually … Good?

Television The previous season was a disaster. The surprise new one might actually make you “believe” again. By Enter your email to receive alerts for this author. Sign in or create an account to better manage your email preferences. Unsubscribe from email alerts Are you sure you want to unsubscribe from email alerts for Sam Adams? Aug 05, 20265:45 AM Brendan Hunt, Jason Sudeikis, and Tanya Reynolds in Season 4 of Ted Lasso. Apple+ Sign up for the Slatest to get the most insightful analysis, criticism, and advice out there, delivered to your inbox daily. The world didn’t need more Ted Lasso. By the time it wrapped up in 2023, the pandemic comfort watch had worn out its welcome, its winsome appeal pushed far past the point of cloyingness. The folksy charm of Jason Sudeikis’ Midwestern goofball had curdled into hokum, and the other characters had become calcified in their own quirkiness. Three seasons and 34 episodes turned out to be as much as the conceit of a soccer ignoramus turning a bedraggled group of misfits into a tightly knit team could sustain, and although the show managed to keep it together through the final stretch, the ending was as much a relief as anything else: Thank God they stopped before it got really bad. It really felt like the end too. The third-season finale, “So Long, Farewell,” wrapped up every thread that needed wrapping, and although no one would confirm it was the end of Ted Lasso, it seemed as if Ted had finally dispensed his last homespun platitude. Sudeikis stayed mum, and the rest of the cast claimed to know no more than we did, but the weeks passed, and it was time to move on to something with a little more heft to it, a little more complexity—something that wasn’t so goddamn nice. Auf wiedersehen, goodbye. And yet, here we are, three years later, with more Ted Lasso. Season 4 finds Ted back in Kansas City—whether Missouri or Kansas is never quite clear—with his teenage son Henry (now played by Grant Feely) and ex-wife Michelle (Andrea Anders) both fixtures in his life. The periodic beeps that sound as the season premiere fades in on his new life inform us that he’s working his new gig as a supermarket cashier, but their steady rhythm also suggests an ICU heart monitor; he’s on life support. Yes, he’s a devoted dad, the reason he quit AFC Richmond and moved back in the first place: The supermarket gig is just part time, so he’s got hours free for school pickups and impromptu afternoons of Fortnite with his son. But we know why we’re here, and so does everyone else. It’s only a matter of minutes before Richmond owner Rebecca (Hannah Waddingham) turns up, with Keeley (Juno Temple) and Higgins (Jeremy Swift) in tow, asking Ted to help the club get its new women’s team off the ground—to establish, as Rebecca explains, the “Richmond culture” that revived the fortunes of the men’s squad. And though Ted’s initial answer is a no, nope, no ma’am, we’re just killing time until the inevitable reversal, which the show makes no more plausible than it has to be. Would Ted’s former wife and his only child instantly agree to uproot their lives and move several thousands of miles away just so he can achieve professional fulfilment? Sure, why not. The good news is, we want Ted back at Richmond too, especially if it means getting out of Kansas City. There are only so many times you can watch Rebecca spill barbecue sauce down her expensive blouse, or listen to Higgins say something inadvertently racist at the Negro Leagues museum. Building a new team gives both Ted and Ted the chance to start from scratch, to keep what works—namely the familiar cast of front-office characters—and ditch what doesn’t (namely Ted moping around because the family he moved far away from is far away from him). And because the obstacles to starting a women’s team in a male-dominated sport are more substantial, the show doesn’t have to throw roadblocks in the team’s way to give it something to surmount. If Ted’s first incarnation was built around the New Age conceit that what holds people back is mostly in their heads—that writing down the word believe is all it takes to believe—its second sees its characters facing far more concrete issues. When Ted has to abruptly audition new strikers, one promising candidate apologizes for being late because she’s a single mother and couldn’t line up last-minute childcare. The season takes its time establishing its new supporting cast, especially since there are so many returning characters to service. (Suffice it to say, Richmond’s players have turned over, but the coaching staff remains constant.) But Tanya Reynolds is an early standout as Alice Chilton, the acting coach who nearly quits when Ted is brought in above her. She rightly confronts Rebecca about not considering any women for the job, and Rebecca, who already has her hands full convincing people that her women’s soccer program isn’t doomed to failure, is taken aback at Alice’s apparent ingratitude; bad enough she has to deal with sexism from the male-dominated press and fellow owners, but to be accused of it by another woman throws her whole sense of the world into question. And yet when Alice asks if she was ever considered for the head coaching job, Rebecca gives her a blunt and truthful answer: no. There are shades here of Ted’s relationship with Nate, the insecure but resentful second-in-command whom Ted helped bring out of his shell. But we’re not cued to pity her in the same way, and that lack of lugubriousness prevails across the board. Ted Lasso’s second wave is less overearnest, less self-serious than the first, more concerned with problem-solving than pop psychology. It’s more lightweight, less strained, more satisfied with small moments than inclined to chase after big ones. I’ve seen only four of the season’s 10 episodes, and there’s always the chance, even the likelihood, that it falls back on its ways. But the new game plan is working well. Let’s hope they stick to it. Get the best of culture Get the best of movies, TV, books, music, and more. Apple Comedy Soccer