And so it ends, after three seasons of uplift and heartbreak, corner kicks and penalties, crummy dads and supportive moms, goofy aphorisms and movie references. But mostly uplift.
There are TV finales that go out with a shock or on a sad note or with a healthy dose of ambivalence. (“The Sopranos” pulled a trifecta.) But that was not how “Ted Lasso” was ever going to end. It offered its goodbyes (and so longs, etc.) in much the manner it first introduced itself, with cheer and optimism. Was it a bit much at times? Yes, it was. But with one arguable exception, it went out nicely. If, in fact, it is over at all: No one associated with the show has yet confirmed that this will be the final season.
Were you one of those who fell for the Rebecca–Ted fake out at the breakfast island that opened the episode? By which I mean, one of the (sane) viewers who was horrified at such a terrible idea or one of the (I’m sure very nice, though highly misguided) viewers who felt vindicated? It was a sneaky move, but with time running out I’m not sure how else we were ever going to see Beard in a banana hammock. Remarkably, his performance would prove only the second-most testicular of the episode.
Regular readers know that I never gave up faith in Rebecca’s happy ending, that I have waited patiently, or at least patiently-ish, for six episodes for the return of … well, you know whom, but I’m going to save it anyway just to re-savor the anticipation.
At the end of the last episode, Ted was about to offer Rebecca a “truth bomb” of the kind she had given him late in Seasons 1 and 2, when he was cruelly interrupted by the credits. Or was he, really? Brandi Carlile’s cover of “Home” from “The Wiz”— one of several references to “The Wizard of Oz” in the episode — was perhaps more a continuation of Ted’s confession than an interruption.
And indeed, as anticipated, Ted is leaving to return to Kansas and his son, Henry. Whether he and Michelle are getting back together is not entirely clear — OK, there’s some ambivalence to the finale — but it at least seems likely that the world’s worst couples therapist, Dr. Jacob, is out of the picture. (Now all we need is for him to lose his license.)
Responses to Ted’s departure from the AFC Richmond crew range from the sad to the very sad. “It’s not that I refuse to talk about you going home, Ted,” Rebecca explains. “It’s that I refuse to accept that you’re not coming back.”
And so begins an episode’s worth of goodbyes, most literally with a full-squad serenade of “So Long, Farewell” accompanied by Will, who hefts a boom box like a trans-Atlantic John Cusack. When I saw the title of the episode, I anticipated a “Sound of Music” reference, just perhaps one not quite so literal. Hokey? And then some. But a modest delight nonetheless, and never more than when Dani concludes the song with his impression of wee Gretl.
It might be argued, if one were inclined to nitpick, that this is the worst imaginable time for Ted to announce his imminent departure. After its disastrous start, Richmond finds itself in a position to win the Premier League title! All the team needs is to win its final game (against, of course, the loathsome Rupert’s West Ham squad) while Man City loses theirs. Maybe wait until after the match to drop your truth bomb, Ted?
But this doesn’t feel like the time to nitpick.
In addition to the goodbyes, the finale spends a lot of time finale-ing. The scenes that we had to see coming — Colin finally getting to kiss his fella on the pitch after a win, Ted doing the “Running Man” dance that introduced him way back in the very first episode, the “ussy” kid re-ussying — do in fact arrive. And a range of fan-favorite supporting characters make brief appearances.
The marvelous Sassy returns to sass Rupert once again though not quite as memorably as she did in Season 2, when she hit him with one of my favorite-ever “Ted Lasso” lines: “I think of your death every single day. Ooh, I can’t wait.” Dr. Sharon is here, too, or rather there, alone in what looks like a hotel room. Really? Rebecca couldn’t spring for a ticket to bring her back to Nelson Road for the big match? The show couldn’t give her more than a handful of words of solo dialogue? Somebody needs a new agent.
We also get another look at Richmond’s old coach George Cartrick and his conspicuously under-underpanted crotch. (“Put ‘em away, George,” the ref tells him.) John Wingsnight shows up as well, using his face as a much-needed backstop. We get a late glimpse of Phoebe, which would be more painful if we hadn’t gotten a healthy dose of her two episodes ago. James Tartt Sr. likewise shows up again. And am I mistaken, or was that the couple from “Beard After Hours” — the man large and bald and wearing a baby in a snuggle carrier — at Beard and Jane’s Stonehenge wedding?
But my favorite cameo of the episode was Rebecca’s mother, Deborah. This is partly because she is played by the great Harriet Walter, and it’s partly because many of us just watched her play another inattentive mother in another much-anticipated finale in “Succession” mere days ago. The difference, of course, is that then she was telling her wealthy children to keep the family business and now she is telling her wealthy daughter to sell the family business. Acting is fickle work.
Nate’s return to Richmond is nice, but he’s the kit man? Scratch that, the assistant to the kit man? I mean, given that they were going to use his play at the most important moment in Richmond’s history — yes, of course, another finale necessity — maybe they should have just made him an assistant coach to begin with? (The late montage suggests that will be the case under the new manager, Roy.) Still, compressed though it might have been, the “sorry” scene between him and Ted was a nice one, and concluded with what is surely a Top-5 series hug.
Which brings me to the Big Game itself. It’s full, as usual, of inane decisions — really? Give the penalty kick to Isaac, who’s never shot one in his entire career? — and tease-the-audience reversals. There was Isaac’s apparent miss that actually tore through the net, and later a West Ham goal that was wiped out by an offsides call. (Well spotted, Ted).
But for a show that has never paid much attention to what takes place on the field, this match at least felt like it had stakes, and the Richmond win was as gratifying as it was meant to be. Little wonder, however, that Man City won their game, leaving Richmond stuck at No. 2 in the standings: “Ted Lasso” knows that at its core, it’s still an underdog show. And this way the team will still have something to aim for in the event there ever is a Season 4.
Was I disappointed that Rupert’s downfall was not more precipitous and humiliating? Of course I was, but that was perhaps inevitable. I will console myself by replaying Sassy’s line in my head.
That leaves, I suppose, the two major story lines that were finally concluded this episode. I’ll start with what I consider the bad one: Roy and Keeley (and Jamie). I’ve covered this subject often enough that I won’t belabor it here, but the relationship between Roy and Keeley was a principal driver of Season 2 and arguably the best thing about it. It’s almost hard for me to remember that at times Roy seemed to have usurped Ted’s role as the show’s central figure.
This season, by contrast, has been all over the map. First, Roy and Keeley broke up offscreen for reasons never made particularly clear. Then Keeley meandered through a series of tedious subplots while Roy demonstrated an unexpected aptitude for painted-rope and genital-string sadism. Then the two seemed to get back together in Episode 10, only for it to become unclear whether they were back together in Episode 11. And the finale rushes its way through Roy and Jamie becoming rivals again, behaving like imbeciles and persuading Keeley she has no need for either one of them. What a mess.
I suspect that much was left on the cutting room floor and that it could have been assembled far better than it was. The gradual friendship between Roy and Jamie was quite charming. But if you’d told me that their relationship with one another would prove more important than either’s with Keeley, I’m not sure I would have believed you.
But let’s conclude — like the show itself — happily. How would Rebecca finally find the family promised her all the way back in Episode 3? Would Sassy die in a stormy car crash and leave Nora to be raised by Rebecca? Would Bex or even Ms. Kakes have a child they couldn’t bear to raise with Rupert? Would Rebecca wind up with Sam? With Ted? With a rehabilitated John Wingsnight? As former Richmond owner Freddie Mercury might say: no, no, no ,no, no, no, no.
I don’t know whether Rebecca was pining for her nameless Dutchman ever since Episode 6, but I know I was. Though I was rather mixed on that episode overall, I thought the scenes of Rebecca letting down her hair on the houseboat were the best of the whole season. That wasn’t — couldn’t be — an accident, any more than the revelation of his daughter’s bedroom could be a red herring.
Late in the finale, when Rebecca was at the airport, I swear I could feel the moment approaching. And when I saw that little girl running along the sidewalk? Gezelligheid, pure and simple.
And on that happy note, I’ll turn it over to the rest of you to discuss. I’m certain there’s plenty I’ve left out, but I began this recap in the wee small hours and the hours are no longer wee nor small. So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good night.
Odds and ends
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Could “Ted Lasso” possibly have ended (if it has in fact ended) with any song other than Cat Stevens’s “Father and Son”? Of course not. Unless, I suppose, there was an alternative, darker ending in which Ted ignored Henry to focus on his coaching career that was scored to “Cat’s in the Cradle.”
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Much has been written about this show’s indifference to the details of professional soccer. Let’s just add that this indifference also extends to book publishing. Specifically, no one makes unbound galleys of a book that isn’t finished because the final, crucial chapter has yet to be written.
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Willis. So now we know. I can’t help but feel this revelation merited a “Whatchoo talking about? ” on Ted’s part.
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Speaking of names, I can’t be the only one who, when Zoreaux changed his name to “Van Damme,” thought “Why not Zorro?” Sometimes you just have to go the long way around.
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Last week, Dottie uttered the truest words yet spoken on the show when she called Trent’s hair “fabulous.” This week, Higgins one-upped her. It is, indeed, “perfect.”
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I won’t lie: If I could grow an avocado like that one, I too would abandon everything else in order to do so.