Ted Lasso

Come on! Come on! Let's do this!

Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!

Go! Go! Go!

Oh.

Rupert and I bought this on our fifth anniversary.

Well, you have exquisite taste.

Do you want it?

But it's a Hockney. It must be worth a million pounds.

Good point. You should've said yes.

- Auction pile, please. - Right away, ma'am.

So, um, Mrs. Mannion...

Excuse me. Ms. Welton.

George is here.

If he's here, why isn't he here?

Oh. Yes. Good point.

George.

Higgy boy. - Oh! Good one.

Hey. I love what you've done to the place.

Did you do it yourself or get some poof to help you?

I could ask the same of your hair. Please.

She's a cheeky one, isn't she, eh? -

Right, love. Listen, I've got training in a minute.

So whatever it is you need to get off your impressive chest,

- let me have it. - Of course.

You're fired.

Yeah, right.

And I'll be buying out the remainder of your contract. So...

Wish you the best of luck.

Fired? What the fuck for?

I suppose I could go for any number of reasons, really.

Your casual misogyny, for one.

- What? - I know, it's a big word.

Ask one of your daughters what it means.

Or perhaps it's your performance,

having led this team through yet another remarkably average season.

Or maybe it's because you insist on wearing those tiny shorts

that force me to see one of your testicles.

And there's the other one.

Liam and Noel.

Though, perhaps not an oasis.

Still, if I'm being completely honest, George,

you're fired because I'm the owner now, and I don't like you.

Now do piss off, you fat twat.

Hey, Higgy boy.

What do you think's worse?

Your husband cheating on you or being the last to know?

Is there someone that could pop out and fetch me a salad?

Nothing with raisins in it, please.

Fuck you.

So, what to do as far as new managers go?

Shall I prepare a list of candidates?

No. That won't be necessary.

This is a bit of surprising news from the other side of the Atlantic.

AFC Richmond announced the hiring of their new manager,

one Theodore "Ted" Lasso.

Recently, it was Coach Lasso leading the Division II Wichita State Shockers

to their first ever national title in American football.

He took the Shockers from a garbage program

all the way to the promised land in his very first season as head coach.

But for a lot of us, that's not how Ted Lasso found his way into our hearts,

certainly not into our living rooms.

- For me, it'll always be Ted... -

celebrating a moment of joy with his team

in a way that you really have to see to understand.

And then, even when you see it...

I don't necessarily know that understanding is what we're doing.

Right on, Ted. Do your thing, man.

And good luck with the most beautiful game.

Do us proud.

Go, 'Murica.

Oi, mate. This you?

- I believe it is, yeah. - Oh, man! Legend.

Can I get an ussie?

- That's dope. -

You know, back where I'm from, we call those selfies.

Well, it's not "myself," yeah?

It's "us," innit? "Ussie."

Yeah. I like that.

Wicked.

You coaching football.

Mate, you are a legend for doing something so stupid.

I mean, it's mental. They're gonna fucking murder you.

Well, you know, I've heard that tune before.

But here I am, still dancing.

- Legend. - Yeah. Nice meeting you.

What you reading? Another soccer book.

Coach, you are a sponge.

Come on. Hit me with a fun fact.

They don't say "out of bounds." They say "into touch."

Okay, you owe me five bucks if I sneak that into a sentence later.

- You're on. - Okay.

Good evening. We'll be dimming the cabin shortly.

We should get some sleep. The jet lag will kill us.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Hmm.

Are we nuts for doing this?

Yeah, this is nuts.

Hey, but taking on a challenge is a lot like riding a horse, isn't it?

If you're comfortable while you're doing it,

probably doing it wrong.

- Okay, good night, Coach. - Night, Coach.

Oh, oh, oh. Hey, hey, hey!

If we see each other in our dreams, let's goof around a little bit,

- pretend like we don't know each other. - You got it, stranger.

Nice.

You didn't sleep at all? - Not a wink.

No. My brain just kept on cooking.

At first, I was thinking about not sleeping.

Then I was thinking about thinking about not sleeping. And that...

That's never good.

Next thing you know,

they're handing out warm chocolate chip cookies

and the plane's landing.

I didn't get a cookie. Did you eat mine?

That's not part of the story. I think this is us right here.

Hey, how ya doin'?

- My name's Ted. What's yours? - Ollie.

- Ollie. All right. - Let me get your bags.

No, no, no, Ollie. We packed 'em, we'll carry 'em.

Love to make a little pit stop though.

Okay. Follow me.

Yeah. There you go.

Coach, I got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore, right?

Hey, I've never actually said that when not in Kansas before.

- That's kinda nice. - Yeah.

Well, thanks for indulging us, Ollie.

Ready to boogie whenever you are.

Okay. That's Tower Bridge.

Right. Not the London Bridge, 'cause this one's still up.

You know how they came up with soccer?

So, these Victorian-era headmasters,

all they wanted to do was get the boys to stop masturbating.

So they invented a sport where the boys wouldn't use their hands at all,

and they thought that might do the trick.

I'm not sure if it worked, but...

Feels different, Coach.

I mean, the same, but different.

- Metaphor. - You know it, baby.

Oi!

Oi! Excuse me!

Oi! Hello!

Off! Off!

Stop touching the grass!

Get off! Get off the pitch! Stop touching the grass! Please!

- Yep, yep, yep. Yeah. - Who are you?

I'm Ted Lasso. Uh, this is Coach Beard here.

- Oh, God. You're the new manager. - Yes, sir.

- Take all the grass you want. - Oh, no...

We just had it cut. I can go through the garbage.

- I can get you some more. - That's all right. No-No need.

- Thank you. - Yeah.

Oh, yeah.

- Still, we got to get off the grass. - Yeah, yeah. Absolutely.

Do we apologize?

- Sorry about that, grass. - Sorry, grass.

So, we're supposed to meet with a Rebecca Welton.

Yeah, that's where I'm taking you.

Oh. Look at this guy. One step ahead.

Hey, what's your name, by the way?

- Me? - Yeah.

No one ever asks my name.

Oh.

I mean, whenever you're ready.

Oh, um, it's Nathan.

Nathan! Aw, I love that name.

Hey, love your hot dogs.

Yeah. No, I know.

Good, good. Y'all got Nathan's hot dogs here?

No.

Okay.

I love this kid. Love him.

I'll introduce you. Big boss.

- Here we go. -

Hello.

Hey, how y'all doing? I'm Ted Lasso, your new coach.

- You must be Ms. Welton. - Oh. Please, call me Rebecca.

Ms. Welton's my father.

If that's a joke, I love it.

If not, I cannot wait to unpack that with you.

This here is Coach Beard.

It is so good to finally meet you both face-to-face.

Higgins?

Oh. Sorry. This is Higgins, our current director of communications.

Current?

Could you take Coach Beard and get him their IDs, housing information...

You know, anything they need.

- Wi-Fi password, wet wipes. - Humidifier. Way ahead of you, Coach.

Thank you.

- Please, take a seat. - Okay.

- Can I get you something to drink? - Yes, please.

Didn't get much sleep on the plane, so anything you got,

a little boost of caffeine, should do the trick.