Less TED talk, more TED Lasso
The show that inspired me to become a Coach...and of course a better parent!
The whistle blew and I wasn’t ready
I didn’t expect a show about a moustached American football coach navigating British soccer to become my coaching bible. But life’s like that, isn’t it? Full of plot twists. I started watching Ted Lasso during one of those early switch-offs, Friday nights during Covid. I thought I was escaping. Turns out, I was learning.
Ted wasn’t just a coach. He was a compass.
As someone who leads teams, juggles chores and parenting, mentors colleagues, and occasionally eats cold toast while sprinting into a Zoom call, I saw myself in Ted. Not because I’m overly optimistic, but because I believe a lot in coaching at work and home. Every single day.
This is the playbook I’ve built from Ted Lasso, with lessons that apply equally to leading a team or convincing a toddler to eat broccoli.
Leadership Lessons from Ted Lasso
Believe. And also mean it.
You know the iconic Believe sign Ted hangs above the locker room door? That simple word shook me. Not because it was motivational (Pinterest is full of those), but because of how he lived it.
Ted believed in his players before they earned it. And that’s coaching.
In real life, believing in someone isn’t a passive vibe. It’s an active choice. At work, I’ve had teammates who were faltering, missing deadlines, struggling with confidence, and unsure of their voice. And I’ll admit it, my first instinct wasn’t always kindness. It was performance anxiety (theirs and mine).
But coaching isn’t about judgment. It’s about investment.
When I took the Ted Lasso route seeing the person first, and the performance second, I started asking better questions:
What’s blocking you?
How can I support you this week?
What’s one thing you’re proud of right now?
That shift created a connection. It built trust. And the funny thing - performance followed.
Belief is powerful in parenting, too. When my child spilt water again on the carpet, I caught myself mid-sigh. But then I thought of emotional control. I knelt down, looked into their eyes, and said, “Water stays in the cup, and I know you’ll remember next time.” Their face lit up.
Belief isn’t fluffy. It’s fuel.
I believe in hope. I believe in ‘Believe’. — Ted Lasso
Be curious, not judgmental
This one comes straight from Walt Whitman, but Ted delivers it like a life mantra.
In a scene that should be taught in leadership academies, Ted hustles an arrogant man in a game of darts while quoting this line. The man had underestimated him. Assumed. Judged. Didn’t ask questions.
That hit home.
In leadership, how often do we jump to solutions instead of asking better questions? How often do we assume someone isn’t trying when really, they’re overwhelmed, under-resourced, or carrying invisible weight?
Curiosity is a coach’s superpower.
At work, I started replacing “Why didn’t you…” with “Help me understand…” It lowered defences. It invited honesty.
At home, instead of “Why are you crying again?” I ask, “What’s your big feeling right now?” (Yes, even toddlers deserve emotional literacy)
Curiosity will conquer fear even more than bravery will. — James Stephens (cited in Pink, 2009)
Being curious is slower. It takes emotional effort. But the payoff? Deeper relationships. Stronger coaching. Fewer tantrums, yours and theirs.
Vulnerability is strategy, not weakness
Ted bakes biscuits. He gets panic attacks. He misses his son. He’s not afraid to cry. And still, he leads.
Let that sink in.
For a long time, I thought strength looked like spreadsheets, strategy decks, and never letting emotion leak through. But being a mom changed that. You can’t fake stoicism when your toddler’s in the ER or your team is burning out.
Ted helped me see that vulnerability isn’t unprofessional. It’s human.
I started opening up in one-on-ones. Not oversharing, but being real: “I’ve had a tough week, so I might be slower today. How about you?” The result? People followed suit. Walls dropped. Coaching got deeper.
Vulnerability is not winning or losing, it’s having the courage to show up and be seen. — Brené Brown (2012)
Being a coach means modelling emotional range.
That includes resilience and softness. Clarity and compassion.
Just like parenting.
It’s not about the wins, it’s about the people
Ted doesn’t care about winning, at least not in the traditional sense. He cares about who his players become.
And isn’t that the essence of coaching?
One of my proudest moments as a manager wasn’t hitting a delivery target. It was watching a previously silent team member lead a cross-functional workshop, with confidence and flair. Coaching helped her get there.
In parenting, too, I’m learning that success isn’t about raising the “perfect” child. It’s raising a kind, confident, empathetic, and curious human.
Ted doesn’t push performance at the cost of personhood. He nurtures both.
Sometimes coaching means holding up a mirror. Sometimes it means sitting in silence. Sometimes it means dancing in the locker room.
Yes. All of it counts.
Set the tone, not just the tempo
There’s a scene where the team is spiralling. The media’s tough. Internal tension is higher than a toddler on sugar. And what does Ted do?
He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t panic. He stays centered. Calm.
He sets the emotional tone.
That’s leadership.
In high-pressure environments, deadlines, escalations, and chaos, it’s easy to get swept up.
But if you’re the coach, you’re the thermostat. You regulate the heat.
I’ve learned to breathe before reacting. To create emotional safety before driving outcomes.
The tone is everything.
At home, too, when bedtime turns into World War Pyjamas, my tone changes the outcome. “I’m here. We’re okay. Let’s try again.”
How we show up matters more than what we do. — Goleman, 2013
Energy is contagious. Make yours kind.
Growth looks messy
Remember when Jamie Tartt was an egotistical nightmare? Or when Roy Kent refused to open up? Or Nate’s betrayal arc? (Still not over it.)
Growth isn’t linear. It’s squiggly. It’s uncomfortable.
Coaching means holding space for that.
I’ve coached folks who stumbled before they soared. One even told me, “I’m scared of being seen as average.” We unpacked that. Week by week. But coaching gave her permission to be in the process not perfect.
In parenting, this hits daily. Potty training. Sharing toys. Saying sorry. Waiting for our turn. It’s never Instagram pretty. But it’s progress.
Change is not a threat, it’s an opportunity. Survival is not the goal, transformative success is. — Seth Godin (2018)
Ted never gives up on his players even when they falter. Coaches hold the long view. We stay when it’s messy.
Kindness is leadership
This one’s simple. But very hard.
Ted’s superpower isn’t tactics. It’s kindness.
He remembers birthdays. He learns names. He brings biscuits. He sees people. I wish I could do that.
At work, kindness is often underrated. But in my experience, the best coaching comes from:
Giving praise in detail
Listening without interrupting
Respecting energy levels
Saying “thank you” more than “what’s next?”
Kindness isn’t a trade-off to performance. It’s the soil it grows in.
At home, kindness looks like slowing down. Noticing. Being present even when your phone is buzzing. Saying, “I’m proud of you” before “Let’s go.”
People will forget what you said, but they’ll never forget how you made them feel. — Maya Angelou (cited in Carnegie, 2011)
The long game
Ted Lasso didn’t fix his team overnight. He showed up. Again and again. With belief. With biscuits. With heart.
That’s what coaching is. It’s not a KPI. It’s not a pep talk. It’s a practice.
I don’t always get it right, at work or at home. I have days when I forget to be curious, lose my tone, or just want to scream into a pillow. But then I remember: Coaching isn’t about being perfect. It’s about showing up for people, over and over, even when it’s hard. It’s unconditional love, just like moms.
Especially when it’s hard.
Because growth isn’t loud. It’s in the quiet moments. The follow-ups. The belief you offer when someone’s doubting themselves. The way you see the best in someone even before they do.
That’s what Ted Lasso taught me.
And biscuits help too.
Want to read more thoughts on coaching, leadership, and the beautiful chaos of my work-life juggle?
I'm not sure which I love more; the show or this post. Thank you!
A most pleasurable read! Thank you, and thank Ted! He's coming back for a new season I think. :)