Ted Lasso as a character—and Ted Lasso, the show—offers something quietly radical: it proves that television doesn’t need to rely on dysfunction to be compelling.
Most sitcoms are built around “bad behavior.” The formula is almost always the same: someone messes up or avoids responsibility, then spends the entire episode dodging the consequences. They lie, they hide the evidence, they bounce between two dates on opposite sides of the restaurant (my personal least favorite—so stressful!), and in the end it all blows up in their face. They get grounded or dumped—or worse, the behavior is brushed off with a shrug, some easy forgiveness, or a laugh track that makes light of real harm.
It sets a terrible example. It normalizes avoidance, dishonesty, and no accountability.
But Ted Lasso proves otherwise. Its storylines are grounded in the real rhythms of life—wins and losses, heartbreaks and healing—and what makes it compelling is watching people choose care, courage, and accountability—together. I think that in today’s world, that feels revolutionary.
The Restorative way
From episode one, the restorative techniques embodied by Ted Lasso are innumerable. To the untrained eye, Ted comes across as simply nice, optimistic, friendly—but that’s just the surface. What Ted actually represents is the antithesis of the modern, capitalist-colonial, profit-at-all-costs mentality that dominates most workplaces today.
His nature is gently introduced in the very first moments of the show, as we see him crack open a copy of Jack Kerouac’s The Dharma Bums on his flight to England—a quiet nod to living a life outside of the mainstream.
When viewed through a restorative lens, Ted Lasso becomes a gloriously wholesome case study in how organizations and leaders so often get it wrong—and what it actually looks like to build strong, resilient, connected communities instead.
Biscuits with the Boss:
On just his second day, Ted insists on forming a real relationship with the very busy (and very closed-off) team owner, Rebecca Welton. “We can’t really be good partners unless we get to know each other,” he says, as he offers her a homemade snack. Breaking bread—an ancient symbol of connection, hospitality, and trust. And yes, he bakes those biscuits himself.
Then he hits her with an icebreaker: “First concert and best concert?” (Her answer, begrudgingly: Spice Girls and... Spice Girls.) Why the icebreaker? Because Ted knows they work. He’s creating connection, not just chit-chat.
Rebecca, at this point, represents so many of the relationship-deadening qualities of corporate culture—brisk efficiency, guarded professionalism, results over people. “This is not something I have time for this morning… or ever,” she tells him. But Ted’s relational magic is persistent, and it works.
Celebration
So what does Ted do? He throws him a birthday party. Not because it will boost performance metrics, but because it’s the right thing to do. Because people deserve to be celebrated, even (especially) after a loss.
The party includes Sam’s favorite snacks from home and an open invitation to everyone on the team—players, coaching staff, even Higgins and Rebecca. It’s a powerful moment. Ted models what it means to be a team: you show up for each other beyond the field.
Other honorable mentions from this episode:
-Ted uses a Suggestion Box to get input for club house improvements.