I don’t know which came first.  We have a chicken and egg situation when it comes to heroes.  Is it our art that elevates heroes to the point that we look for them in everyday life?  Or is it our search for heroes that led us to creating so many in art?

And I’m not talking about the frontline healthcare workers putting themselves at risk to care for us in the pandemic (and, well, all the other times as well), or the essential workers potentially exposing themselves to make sure our pantries are full, or the teachers who are trying to educate in stressful and difficult circumstances.  Of course, they’re heroes, but this is an entertainment blog.  I’m talking about a different kind of hero.  Sometimes they wear tights and capes, but sometimes they wear a blue sweater over a button-down shirt, or, even short pants and a fetching beanie/vest combination.  

Over the past four years or so, I’ve noticed a lot of people in my social circle saying things like “Person X will contain this, Person Y will be the one to control this, Person Z will be the adult in the room,” but this isn’t a political blog (yeah right).  The gist of what I saw is that people were desperate for heroes and heroines and were looking for them in all the wrong places, trying, often with Olympic-level psychological gymnastics involved, to make heroes out of leftover bits.  Like trying to make a snowman out of the filthy snow clumped up inside the wheel wells of your car.  

But I want to talk about the heroes I found on television over the past few months—characters who filled me with hope, my eyes with tears, and streaming queues with something to watch other than Futurama for the 800th time.  These shows all have one thing in common—they’re about good people who care about each other.  That’s not to say that there isn’t conflict, that they don’t fight or say the wrong things, but that they never intend to hurt and make amends when they do.  So many times in sitcoms, we’re presented with a group of “friends” who actually quite openly hate each other.  I’m not talking about friendly ribbing, I’m talking the things you say and do to an enemy, like the kid in class who reminds the teacher that they forgot to assign homework.  But not in these shows; the people in them actually like each other.  In this era of streaming services and cable networks really giving it a go, there’s no shortage of great, prestige dramas, but these shows and their characters are something else.  

Ted Lasso - Ted Lasso (Apple TV+)

If, like me, you’re an American fan of English Premier League soccer, you may be aware of Jason Sudeikis’s Ted Lasso character, created as part of a short series of promos for NBC’s massive EPL deal from a few years ago.  The play was simple.  Lasso was an American football coach who brought bombastic ignorance and buffoonery to the EPL’s Tottenham Hotspur.  It was an exercise in the absurd—not only did Lasso know nothing about soccer, he was quite arrogant about it, and was put in charge of a very large, prestigious, top 6 club.  It was funny, sure, but not exactly the thing heroes are made of.  For years, I quietly clamored for a third Ted Lasso promo, but when I learned that Apple TV was doing a Ted Lasso show, I was immediately skeptical—after all, how can mildly arrogant asshattery carry an entire series?

The show smartly wipes out the promos from continuity.  Tottenham has been replaced by the struggling fictional London club AFC Richmond, battling relegation rather than fighting for a top 4 spot for the Champions League.  Lasso has been brought in to manage the team by new owner Rebecca Walton, a divorcée with a Major League-esque plan to destroy the club her philandering (and generally slimy) ex-husband loves so dearly (Rebecca is intriguingly played by Hannah Waddingham, whom you may have last seen walking Lena Headey naked through the streets of King’s Landing).  Lasso, with his trusty sidekick Coach Beard, is greeted by a cast of characters you’re used to seeing in sports films.  The hotshot youngster, the surly veteran, the fish out of water foreign player, and so on.  And yet, Lasso immediately befriends the equipment manager, the meek and timid Nathan, who was so shocked that anyone was even talking to him that he could barely respond.  

Gone was the arrogant buffoon.  Sure, Ted Lasso still didn’t know much about soccer, but rather than look down on what he didn’t understand, he tries to learn.  He is relentlessly hopeful, perhaps to the point of being naive, but with his hopefulness comes an impulse to believe—in himself, in his team, in his players, and in the people around him.  His unending positivity proves rather infectious as his management style begins to win people over.  

Lasso approaches every person and every problem the same way—with openness, kindness, and optimism.  What started as a gag from the SNL alum turned into one of the most inspiring figures on television today and perhaps ever.  Lasso shows depth as a character I never would have dreamed of when Ted Lasso was announced.  I was hoping for some good old fashioned whacky fun; a soccer equivalent to a show like Childrens Hospital or a live action Animaniacs.  But what I got was so much more.  Lasso himself shows unimagined personal depth, and the show’s three-dimensionality isn’t limited just to him—every character unfolds beyond the initially presented stereotype to show hidden depths lesser shows would only tell, but never show (and even lesser shows than those wouldn’t even bother).  That hotshot youngster, the surly veteran, the cold corporate owner, her spineless yes man, the popstar WAG (I hate this term, really) struggling to stay relevant in a society that puts an expiration date on women, the shy equipment manager—point to a character in Ted Lasso and you’ll be told their story. 

I can’t think of a single episode where I didn’t have tears in my eyes and usually tears of more than one kind.  I laughed so hard I cried, I was moved so profoundly I cried, I was heartbroken, I was heartwarmed.  Ted Lasso allowed me to feel the whole gamut of emotions that I’d been keeping at bay during this pandemic.  It wasn’t mere distraction, like so much of the entertainment I’ve sought out recently has been—it was catharsis.  

And Sudeikis’s Ted Lasso’s big heart was firmly at the center of that catharsis.  Ted Lasso was the hero I needed to see in these times.  One who has the courage to stand—not against some mystical, otherworldly villain, but perhaps against the most monstrous nemesis we face—self-doubt.  Lasso has the courage to stand and believe in you.  

I’ll not mince words here.  Let’s be bold.  Ted Lasso alone makes Apple TV+ worth it.  If you don’t subscribe to the service, sign up for a free trial and watch it.  This show is too good to miss.  If it stays at this level for its entire run, it may well unseat Arrested Development as my top comedy series of all time.  

That’s it for part one of this series.  Part two will be continuing soon, but first will be a short detour as I face down the looming giant—what are the best Christmas movies of all time?  If you want to keep the conversation going, you can find me on Twitter almost any time (and I mean that, it’s becoming a problem) at @aslamchoudhury or @studyroompod.  Until next time, I hope you have a happy, safe, and socially distant holiday season.