The final, dialogue-free scenes of the most recent episode of “Ted Lasso” are set against the enduring Scottish New Year’s song “Auld Lang Syne.” It’s a fitting choice, given a title that, in a colloquial translation, can mean “for old time’s sake.” Rebooting one of the biggest hits in recent television memory involves plenty of looking back, inviting fans to rekindle the memories of our time in Richmond with Coach Lasso and his charming soccer (football) crew.
But the beauty of this ongoing fourth season (the Apple TV hit is set to wrap up Oct. 7) is how it chooses not to remain stuck in its own past, moving forward instead in a new and interesting way. By centering the AFC Richmond women’s team in the same spotlight once held by Roy Kent, Jamie Tartt, Sam Obisanya, et al, the creators have made a statement in support of women’s sports that soars past the performative type of allyship it does quite the cheeky job of pointing out throughout the show.
The show deals honestly with the persistent issues women’s sports face in their efforts to build successful teams. From not being taken seriously at the outset (the existing fans of the men’s team at Mae’s pub are so familiarly quick to dismiss and chide the women), to trying to secure financial investment (Tracy Ullman as billionaire Zelda Southport calls out a room of old, white men for not being able to even name a player on their teams), there are countless other examples of inequity or inherent double standards.
Ted’s first meeting with the team happens in the locker room, a small, cramped space the players have to share, one that has one shower and a urinal. His first press conference includes questions only about the men’s team he used to coach. At the first game, the team’s uniforms haven’t arrived, and the game is available only on internet streaming. Investment has lagged behind for so long because, as the show makes sure to remind us, women were legally barred from playing professional football in England until 1971, when a 1921 law was overturned. In case you missed that, I said 1971.
The culprits aren’t always men, with team owner Rebecca Welton, played by Hannah Waddingham, forced to reckon with her own failure to interview even one woman for the open coaching position she gives to Ted. While turning to a successful, known friend in Ted is easily defensible, the look on her face when assistant coach Alice Chilton (played by Tanya Reynolds) calls her out says so much about her self-reflection. There’s marketing wiz Keeley Jones, played by Juno Temple, who is trying to strike the difficult balance between the desire for immediate gratification against the need for patience, and do it all while navigating friendship and workplace professionalism with her boss.
But it all works, bringing us back to the world of easy-to-root-for underdogs, led by a coach who is out of his element, striving to figure out how to work together, getting to know each other, and tackling big problems together. It’s a new spin on an old idea, hitting the essence of what makes sports, be they played by men or women, such an integral part of so many of our lives, and what makes sports such a compelling vehicle for the small and big screen alike. Like a similar television success, “Friday Night Lights,” or the cinematic excellence of “A League of Their Own,” “Ted Lasso” is less about the sport itself and more about the people who play it.
The season is far from perfect. The holdover story lines fall the flattest — enough of Beard and Jane (or trying to convince us her play is actually any good), and let’s bring closure to Keeley and Roy’s on-again, off-again romance. And yes, there is so much more to be told about the players themselves. But like Season 1, which proved those arcs could and would get fleshed out later, I’m willing to wait. Just as I am intrigued to understand the depth of fandom for Crown and Anchor pub owner Mae Green (played by Annette Badland), who might fall squarely in that generation of women who weren’t allowed to play.
Because other parts are just so good. The introduction of Alice, her understanding of the scourge that ACL injuries are in women’s sports, the heartbreak she wears like armor at losing her own playing career to injury, the acute loneliness she is too afraid to unveil around players who seem to have all their friendships figured out, the gruff leadership style that is judged, as a woman, as a fault, where in Kent, played by Brett Goldstein, it’s a strength. The challenge of working athlete/moms, or young players trying to break in.
The flipping script treatment of the great director of football operations Leslie Higgins (played by Jeremy Swift), who becomes the corporate stand-in for women everywhere. Rebecca and Keeley consistently talk over him in a meeting, silencing him to the point he can no longer remember what he wanted to say. (To which Rebecca decides “it probably wasn’t that important anyway.”) There are quieter, more subliminal moments, too. Higgins wears shorts and Ted makes flippant comments about his legs. Roy and Keeley arrange a silly dating challenge, and force Higgins into being their secretary. A financial analysis report falls flat, and Higgins is left to take the blame.
The writing is a master class. The seeds of the plot shift were planted three years ago, when the show’s creators signed off for what they told us was the final time. Even as they wrote the then-series finale, they couldn’t resist teasing a potential future, tucking it inside another wordless scene in which Keeley hands the business plan for the women’s team to Rebecca.
The gleeful hugs the two women share in that moment lead them to deliver on the promise, and as we drop back in on them three years later, they are in Kansas City pulling Ted back into the game with their new pitch. What he teaches, and what he learns, is what we all have in common, that if given a fair chance, the emotional resonance of sports does the same beautiful things for women that it has always done for men.
Tara Sullivan is a Globe columnist. She can be reached at tara.sullivan@globe.com. Follow her @Globe_Tara.