Chapter Text
Trent Crimm was a striking man. His strong features, framed by voluminous black hair, starkly streaked with grey, had a manner of drawing the eye. The first time Ted sat in the Richmond press room, his head was spinning from exhaustion, vision blurring in and out. He felt like one of those cartoons that just got hit on the head with a hilariously large mallet, but with fewer birds flying around. Which was a shame because he’d always liked those little birds.
But with all that in mind, it made perfect sense that Trent Crimm was what his tired brain chose to zero in on. And when he was prompted to call on someone, of course he called on the person he’d been noticing since he’d walked in. And that person stood up and introduced himself as Trent Crimm, The Independent, and whoo-eeee if that wasn’t a name to match the face and the voice to top it off! Ted had always appreciated a cohesive package, and in his groggy delight, he missed the signs of danger until it was too late.
“Is this a fucking joke?”
Later, when he was too restless to sleep, Ted googled Trent Crimm, The Independent, to find some of his articles and see what he was up against. He scanned a few, chuckling every now and then. Trent certainly was a prickly pear, but he had a way with words and a sharp wit. And he cared about this sport.
Ted scrolled further, and found something from almost 15 years ago titled, “Football’s Homophobia Problem”. The tone was defiant. Trent was brutal in his disgust of the “boorish and boring bigotry” encouraged in the sport. He discussed his own experiences as an out gay man existing in that world, and Ted might not have known much about this kinda football, but if it was anything like football back home, then Trent had a helluva lotta balls to have been in this game as long as he had, even more so to have written this. He even named names, most of which went over Ted’s head, but one he did recognize was that of his predecessor, George Cartrick.
The writing was honest and fierce even in its vulnerability, and Ted found himself tearing up near the end. The core of the piece was that football deserved better. Ted’s fear that he’d made a huge mistake had been growing since the press conference, and now it felt like it was shrinking back down. There was at least one person in that press room he could reach. He was sure of it. He closed his computer, and walked back to bed.
Maybe Ted had even found an ally. Just like he was an ally. He was an ally to Trent Crimm, and Trent Crimm could be an ally to him. Ally. Ally. Ally. Ally? The word swirled in his head, becoming nonsensical. Suddenly, all the exhaustion and stress of the last few days hit him like…well, like something that got hit really hard. His brain was not doing similes just then. But his last thought before sleep took him was of the sign he’d taped up above his office door.
***
“What’d I tell ya, Coach? I think we got him!” Ted waved his copy of The Independent around again happily before setting it back down in front of him. “Listen to this. ‘If the Lasso way is wrong, it’s hard to imagine being right.’”
“You read that part already, Coach,” Beard said, but he was smiling.
“I’ll admit, it seemed rocky there at first,” Ted continued. “He’s definitely one of those guys who can make you nervous just looking at you. You know, he reminds me of this fella back in high school, Billy Stewart . He was this James Dean type with maybe a little Kurt Cobain mixed in but with this thick, wavy hair. He would talk back to the mean teachers, but the nicer ones never seemed to have a problem with him. Had his own car. Real cool fella. We did not run in the same crowd at all.
“Well, Billy and I were lab partners there for a while, and I used to get so nervous talking to him, I’d plumb forget my own name sometimes!” he chuckled. “I was so worried I’d say something that’d make him not like me, I barely spoke to him at all. Don’t know why it mattered to me so much what he thought of me. I just remember thinking he was so…cool.”
Beard squinted at him like he had something to say. Ted paused, but Beard stayed quiet, so he kept going.
“Then things got pretty hard for me, y’know with my dad passing.” He had never told Beard the specifics of his father’s death, and Beard never asked. But he’d been practically a part of Ted’s family for so long, and while he and his mama never talked about it openly, he was sure there were things Beard had picked up on by now, and Beard was a smart fella who had a way of seeing past the pieces on a board.
“I started skipping school a lot, and drinking out by this old junkyard. Turned out it’s where Billy used to sell weed to the other kids. I was feeling bad about leaving him to do our labs alone, and I was pretty full of liquid courage, so after he finished his transaction, I offered him a beer. We sat drinking for a while, not talking, then he turned to me and told me he kept putting my name on all the labs so I’d keep getting credit.”
Ted looked at Beard, who had leaned forward at his desk, listening intently. “You know those times when you’re so overwhelmed and trying not to be, it can just take the smallest thing to just…break you open?”
“Oh yeah,” Beard said.
“Well, hearing about that one kindness did just that. All that stuff mixed with a healthy dose of teenage hormones plus an unhealthy dose of alcohol…it just came bursting out. I think it was the first time I cried since I lost my dad. Anyway, I barely had time to worry that I was making a fool of myself in front of Billy, when he hugged me. And he kept hugging me, even when I got snot all over his flannel.
“After that, we got to be friends for a little while. He would even drive me to school sometimes. Helped me get back on track.” Ted paused, getting lost in his own memory.
“What happened?”
“Oh, his dad found out about the marijuana and shipped him off to military school. It hit me pretty hard, losing a new friend after everything.” He switched gears, not wanting to dwell on all those feelings for too long. “My point is, Coach, that sometimes a cool exterior is hiding a real warm heart.”
Beard was a man of many stares. Over the years, Ted had been on the receiving end of enough of them that he’d gotten pretty good at sussing out what each one meant. The one he was getting at that moment generally meant Beard was thinking real hard about what to say next. Which was understandable. Ted didn’t bring up his dad much.
After a few beats Beard finally said, “And Trent Crimm reminds you of this guy?”
“Well, yeah. He’s all suave and confident, and I gotta admit, the hair really helps.” Ted grinned. “And he’s a good guy. An honest guy. He didn’t have to write all that nice stuff. Might even get some heat for it, but he did it because he believed it. I’m telling ya, we got him.”
Beard blinked slowly at him. “Okay.”
***
When Ted first noticed Trent outside of the press room, he had to do a double take. Ted had just finished his Saturday morning FaceTime with Henry, and he decided to take a walk around the park to clear his head and not think too hard about how much happier Michelle seemed since they’d split up.
The walk was providing insufficient distraction, when the joyous shriek of a small child shook him out of his thoughts. A tiny pink streak zoomed past him followed by a larger, slower figure, and at first the only thing Ted recognized was the tired jog of a parent trying to keep up.
“Livvy, sweetie, Daddy needs his phone back!”
That voice snapped him to attention, and that’s when Ted saw the unmistakable wavy locks of one Trent Crimm, The Independent. During their day together, Ted had tried to pry some personal information out of him, but all he’d managed was that Trent was divorced. And that knowledge was irritably delivered to him after several hours of what Ted felt were very reasonable yet persistent inquiries into how he spends his time and more than a few reminders that Trent was meant to be asking the questions.
So Ted couldn’t have been more delighted to see the aloofest of aloof journalists himself scooping up a small, squirming toddler in pink overalls, who seemed determined to laugh as loudly as possible directly into his face. Trent flinched briefly before slipping the phone out of her tiny hands while distracting her with a smacking kiss to the cheek, causing a new wave of deafening giggles. A bittersweet pang swept over Ted, settling in his chest as fondness.
“My, oh my, with whipped cream and apple pie! If it isn’t Trent Crimm, The Independent!” Ted wasn’t a fan of schadenfreude as a general rule, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a little thrill from the horrified look on Trent’s face for being caught out being human. Ted grinned, and if some people might have called it shit-eating, well, nothing he could do to stop them.
“Coach Ted Lasso from America,” Trent said haughtily, the effect somewhat diminished by the small child yanking on his hair.
“And who’s this fireball? I tell ya, with speed like that, you may have a future athlete right there!” Ted directed the first part to the child in question, who promptly hid behind Trent’s hair, dark eyes peeking out at him with suspicion.
“God forbid,” Trent replied. “This is my daughter, Olivia. Livvy, this is Coach Lasso from work. Can you say hello?”
“Well, hello there, Miss Olivia! I like your pretty pink overalls…or do y’all call them something different here?”
“Dungarees.”
“Dungarees. That’s fun. I like your pretty pink dungarees, Miss Olivia.”
Olivia moved her mouth, and Ted thought he could hear the vowels needed for a thank you, so he chanced a, “You’re very welcome.” Judging from Trent and Olivia’s faces, he got it right.
“So, what brings Richmond’s foremost American football coach out today?” Trent asked.
“Oh, I’m just getting some fresh air. Feels downright balmy for England today. And what about y’all? How come I’m getting the fine pleasure of meeting Miss Olivia Crimm on this lovely morning?”
“Olivia Gill, actually,” Trent said. “She took my ex-husband’s surname.”
“My apologies, Miss Olivia Gill,” Ted said to her with the utmost sincerity. She responded by reaching a small arm slowly toward him then shooting out to grab at the corner of his moustache and yanking as hard as she could before either grown-up had a chance to stop her. “Oof,” Ted said as Oliva pulled her hand back laughing in delight.
“Olivia! We keep our hands to ourselves,” Trent said, his mouth twitching up at the corner, belying his scandalized tone.
“Sorry,” she said meekly, and Ted couldn’t help but jump in seeing her little face start to fall.
“Oh, that’s ok! Gotta make sure I’m not an imposter, right? Why, what if it had come right off in your hand? Your dad woulda had the story of the year right there!”
Olivia was giggling again, and Ted managed to sneak a peek at her father’s toothy grin before he noticed and schooled it down to something more befitting an intimidating journalist.
“While I have you here,” Trent said, adopting his usual cool press room demeanor, “Would you care to comment on Jamie Tartt’s return to Manchester City?”
Ted laughed. “You can take the man outta the press room, but you can’t take the press room outta the man!” The truth was, he was still feeling pretty raw about it, and the question caused the knot in his stomach to tighten, which was the opposite of what he’d hoped for this walk. “I always appreciate your journalistic resolve, Trent Crimm, The Independent, but if it’s all the same to you, it’s such a nice day, I’d prefer to stay off the record.”
“Hmmm…so you have learned something.” Trent gave him an approving half-smile.
“I’m going to be three!” Olivia shouted, apparently bored with the new topic of conversation.
“Three? Holy moly! Now, remind me, that means you can drive a car, right?”
“No!” she shouted again, laughing, this time directly into Trent’s ear, causing him to wince. Ted didn’t bother to hide his amusement.
“No? Well, my mistake. Y’all got all sorts of strange rules over here. I get confused sometimes.” Ted gave Trent a quick wink, which seemed to startle him. Turning his full attention to the other man Ted said, “I was just thinking of going for some—,” he glanced at Olivia and decided dad caution was for the best, “I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M, and I’d be just tickled pink if y’all’d let me treat ya!”
Trent’s eyebrows rose, surprised again. “I—” he started slowly. “I suppose we could accompany you for ice cream. Though I should probably pay for ours lest I be accused of accepting bribes.”
Ted’s answering laugh was drowned out by Olivia’s cheers of, “ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM!”
Off-the-record ice cream turned out to be a hoot and a half. Olivia had decided Ted was a-ok for a grown-up because all of her initial shyness disappeared. She chattered happily to him, answering his questions about her favorite toys, her upcoming birthday, and the best ice cream flavors while Trent occasionally interjected to clarify a point or translate some particularly obscure bit of toddlerspeak.
Both men were happy to let Olivia monopolize the conversation. Ted found himself easily falling into a different exchange with Trent—the shared glances of adults mutually appreciating the antics and delight of a child. He was sure the laughter in Trent’s gaze was mirrored in his own each time their eyes met. It was impossible not to think of Michelle and Henry, but while he still felt the ache from their absence, something else had squeezed in alongside it. He couldn’t quite name it, but it was warm and…hopeful.
The whole encounter couldn’t have lasted more than an hour, but it was enough to turn his pesky ol’ frown all the way upside down. “I sure am happy y’all decided to join me. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Olivia Gill.”
“Biscuits!” Olivia agreed. Ted laughed as Trent rolled his eyes, pretending not to be charmed by his single minded child.
“Oh, that I promise, Kristen Scott Thomas! You got some birthday biscuits coming your way!”
“Thank you, Coach—,” Trent started but cut himself off before Ted could interject. “Thank you, Ted. We had a lovely time…off the record.” There was a mischief in his smile that Ted felt privileged to see.
“Well, off the record, so did I, Trent.”
***
One of the first things Ted’s mama taught him about baking was to always make extra. Baking itself was cantankerous, and all sorts of mishaps could arise between getting something delicious outta the oven and into the mouths of the people you love. This had proven true many times, such as the Tragic Puddle Muffins of ‘89, the Great Cake Dive of ‘97, and, most recently, the Eleventh-Hour Biscuit Reassignment of 2020.
So, after a quick trip home for lunch, Ted was armed with a fresh box of backup biscuits, even pinker and more festive than the ones that had been diverted to Higgins, if he did say so himself. He was excited to give the biscuits to Trent. It was fun being off the record with him and Olivia, and he was hoping for another peek of the man behind the notepad. When Ted really thought about it, it was fun being in the press room with Trent too. Kept him on his toes.
Just then Ted rounded the corner and nearly ran smack dab into Nate. His reflexes kicked in, and he only just managed to save himself from having to return home again for some backup backup biscuits. Nate was not so lucky, and the paper bag in his hand fell to the ground, breaking open to reveal a bagged sandwich and an apple.
“Whoa, I’m sorry, there, Nate! Call me famed meteorologist, Jim Cantore, because my head was in the clouds.” Ted helped Nate to his feet and snatched the fallen contents of the bag off the floor to hand them back apologetically.
“Sorry. I—you weren’t in your office. I mean…sorry.” Nate clutched the apple and sandwich to his chest.
“Oh yeah, there was just a little biscuit blunder needed fixin’. Had to head home for a minute. Were you looking for me?”
“No—yes, I mean…it’s nothing.”
Beard and Ted had been working to make Nate more comfortable with them, but he could still be a squirrely fella, and sometimes it took some detecting to figure out what he really meant. Ted finally registered the food and the bag. “Oh shoot! Did you wanna have lunch together?”
“It’s fine. I just thought maybe—” Nate finished his thought with a shrug.
“Well, heck! I gotta bag of chi—crisps,” Ted caught himself, “in my desk with my name on it, and we still got 15 minutes left!” He reached out to give Nate’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s go make the most of it.”
Barrelling forward into his office before Nate could demur, Ted plopped himself down into his chair and motioned for Nate to come in. Nate glanced at Beard’s empty desk briefly, but chose to heft himself up on his usual bookshelf instead.
“Did you wanna talk to me about anything in particular?” Ted asked, grabbing his ‘crisps’ from the top drawer and ripping them open.
“No. No, I just saw Coach Beard leave and—” Nate gave another shrug in lieu of ending the sentence.
“You just wanted to hang out? Well, doggonit! Now I really wish I’d been here!”
Nate smiled shyly. “What happened with biscuits?”
Ted explained the biscuit situation and mentioned running into Trent a few weeks ago. “I tell ya, that little girl is cute as a button! And it was fun seeing a guy like Trent in dad mode.”
“I always read his columns,” Nate said, finally comfortable in the conversation. “He can be harsh, but he’s usually right. Fair. Coach Cartrick hated him.”
“Oh?” That wasn’t particularly surprising, but Ted was interested in Nate’s perspective on Trent. He’d probably been following Trent’s career for a while, and Nate’s opinion had become invaluable to Ted. He was glad to know Trent had his respect.
“Mmmmm,” Nate confirmed, taking a moment to swallow a bite of sandwich. “I saw them fighting in the carpark once.”
“Fighting like fighting fighting?” Ted could see it. Trent was pretty feisty, and while Ted tried not to be judgmental about people he didn’t know, the evidence at hand indicated that it was very possible that George Cartrick had deserved it.
Nate nodded then considered. “It wasn’t much of a fight. I think Coach Cartrick was drunk. He took a swing, and Trent dodged it and got him in the stomach, and that was the end of it.”
The image of it was vivid in Ted’s mind. Trent elegantly sidestepping the villain, removing the threat in a single blow, standing over the offender, victorious. In Ted’s head, there was an awful big breeze because Trent’s hair was blowing back majestically while his sports coat flapped in the wind. He brought himself back to the present. “What was the fight about?”
“Dunno. I was too far away to hear. I don’t even think they knew anyone saw.”
Ted furrowed his brow. He didn’t like to think too hard on the team’s previous leadership on all levels. It seemed a lot of people he cared about had been hurt because of it, and the best thing he could do was help everybody move forward. He’d rather focus on getting Nate ready for the promotion he’d been discussing with Beard.
“Hey, why don’t you spend some time helping Beard with defense this afternoon,” Ted said.
Nate’s face lit up.
***
Ted’s next glimpse of Trent in dad mode didn’t come until after the new season started. Ted and Beard were people watching from a bench while enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee and trading puns back and forth when Ted noticed two familiar figures heading toward them. It was honestly impressive how Trent could still manage his usual fluid prowl while holding hands with an excitable three year old.
“Coach Lasso!” Trent called smoothly as Olivia wrestled free from his grip to come running toward Ted.
“Trent Crimm, The Independent! And Miss Olivia Gill, herself!”
“TED!” Olivia yelled, scrambling onto the bench to fling her arms around his neck. Beard swept in to relieve Ted of his coffee just before the moment of impact, saving them both from disaster.
Ted wrapped an arm around her, laughing. “Oh, wow, this is one heck of a hug! I’m glad to see you too.”
Covering the rest of the distance two long strides, Trent retrieved his daughter and settled her on his hip, also chuckling at her enthusiasm. Ted’s coffee cup suddenly reappeared in his hand, and Beard stood.
“Coach Beard,” Trent greeted, a note of surprise in his voice as though he’d only just realized the other man had been there all along.
Beard nodded, then turned to Ted. “Gotta go, Coach. See you later.”
Considering they’d just been discussing going to see a movie together, Ted was surprised, but before he could ask if everything was ok, Beard was halfway down the street, though he hadn’t moved particularly fast. Ted never could figure out how he did that. He guessed if his friend needed him he’d let him know.
“Coach Lasso—” Trent said again, and Ted could hear that press room voice creeping in.
“Now, I’m gonna stop you right there, Trent. The only ties I’m interested in discussing are the ones Henry got me this past Father’s Day cause one of them glows in the dark, and the other’s covered in all these little monsters; it’s real cute.”
Trent’s answering smile was downright sheepish, which was a category of smile Ted hadn’t seen from him before. “Off the record, then…Ted.”
“You gonna be ok, there, Trent? That sounded like it might have hurt a little,” Ted teased as Trent took a seat beside him, shifting Olivia to his lap.
“TED!” she shouted again, reaching for him.
Ted laughed and opened his arms a little to let Trent know it was ok to let her climb over to him. “I gotta say, Miss Olivia, I sure am impressed with your memory. It’s been a hot minute since I last had the pleasure of your—oof—company.” After kneeing him in the stomach a few times, Olivia finally settled in his lap.
“Daddy talks about you. Will you make more biscuits?” She busied herself petting Ted’s moustache gently like a nervous kitten she was trying to calm.
Ted snuck a glance at Trent and was delighted to see a faint reddish tint to his cheeks. “Oh, I bet I can whip up another batch for ya. So, your dad talks about me, huh?” He pictured Trent at his typewriter (Trent always used a typewriter in his head) letting loose a slew of frustrations at Ted’s latest American snafu. “I’m a little shocked he lets you hear language like that.”
Trent snorted. “She’ll need it if she’s to live the life of a Richmond fan.”
“Is that right?” Ted laughed. “Are you a Greyhound for life, Miss Olivia?”
“Puppies?” She asked.
“That’s right, Livvy. Ted coaches the puppy team.”
“I wanna puppy!” She shrieked, waving her arms and bopping Ted on the nose in her excitement.
Trent sighed the sigh of a parent who’d just spectacularly set himself up as he moved to relieve Ted of his giggling, squirming burden. “You have a puppy at your Da’s house.”
Olivia gave this some thought. “You need a puppy, Daddy. So you’re not sad without me.”
Ted felt a pang watching Trent as he pulled Olivia into a tight hug. It broke his heart when Henry worried about him being lonely, and he could tell by the stricken look on Trent’s face that he felt the same.
“Thank you, Livvy. I don’t think a puppy could ever stop me missing you.” He paused. “Maybe we’ll talk about it another time.”
Olivia pulled back to fix Trent with the same unimpressed stare that Ted had become so familiar with in his press room. He laughed. “Oh, she’s definitely your daughter. That is some solid Trent Crimm-level skepticism right there.”
Trent joined Ted in his laughter, and Olivia beamed, temporarily satisfied to have been the catalyst for this joy.
“It was good to see you, Co—Ted,” Trent said, standing and shifting Olivia back to his hip. “We have a very important play date to attend. I hope we didn’t interrupt your day too much, but I knew Olivia would want to say hello.”
“Now, Trent, you know I’m pleased as punch to see Miss Olivia anytime,” he stood and gently squeezed Olivia’s hand. She beamed at him. “And always for the rare treat to see Trent Crimm off the record.”
“Goodbye, Ted,” Trent said, his smile warm and genuine. Olivia waved furiously as they walked away.
Ted gave an enthusiastic wave back, chuckling.
“You pick a movie yet?” Beard materialized behind Ted.
“Cheese and crackers, Coach!” Ted shouted, jumping slightly. “I’m never gonna get used to that. How come you left?”
Beard shrugged. “Stuff.”
Ted could tell he wasn’t going to get anything else from his best friend, so he pulled out his phone to find out what was playing nearby.