Chapter Text
“Is this seat taken?”
Ted startled and glanced over to see Leslie Higgins, AFC Richmond’s Director of Football Operations, husband, father of five, badass bass player, and all-around swell guy, standing next to him.
He was sitting in the stadium again, in the quiet of the stands, thinking about Henry. It was his son’s birthday. The third straight birthday where Ted would be a disembodied head on an iPhone and not able to pick his son up from school ready to celebrate with too much pizza and cake. No, Ted was reduced to buying a too-expensive present and hoping it made up for the distance.
Ted knew it wouldn’t.
Last year, he discouraged Jamie from trying to buy his teammate’s affection, only to do it himself for every Christmas and birthday with his son since he accepted the position in London. Ted would bet his next paycheck that Higgins never tried to buy anyone’s affection. The man likely never had to.
Ted was so caught up in his own misery that he didn’t hear Higgins coming. He should have. The man was a lot of things, but stealthy was not one of them.
“Is this seat taken?” Leslie asked again, hands clasped in front of him.
“It’s got Leslie Higgins written all over it,” Ted said, folding the seat down for his friend.
The fact that it actually did have Leslie’s name scribbled along with something else was irrelevant. Ted had even spotted a few stickers inspired by his moustache throughout the stadium. Boy, these English took their soccer seriously.
Leslie took the seat, and Ted waited for the Englishman to say something, but Higgins simply stared straight ahead at the empty field.
”How’d you know I would be here?” Ted asked, not one to let the silence linger, something Leslie undoubtedly knew.
“You weren’t in your office.”
Ted looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
”Or in Rebecca’s office. Or the boot room. Or the practice pitch. I checked the weight room and the cafe too first.”
”Did I miss a meeting?”
Ted racked his brain to see why Higgins would spend so much time looking for him. The morning press conference was done; he wasn’t scheduled for one of his meetings with Trent or Rebecca that he could remember.
”No, no, nothing like that. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
”Of course, Higgy bear. Why wouldn’t I be alright?” Ted lied, plastering on his best Midwest-of-course-I’m-alright-smile.
”It’s Henry’s birthday.”
His moustache twitched. Ted had forgotten about Higgins’ birthday superpower. He wondered if any of those Marvel fellas could compare with Leslie Higgins on days like today.
“Yeah,” Ted sighed loudly.
The team had just won their third match in a row. Total football was a success. No one should be happier than Ted Lasso. He had wanted to be alone, that’s why he came to an empty stadium. But now that Higgins was here, he suddenly didn’t want the other man to leave.
“Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realise you might be missing your son, today, Ted.”
“I miss him every day, but yeah, especially today. But, I’ll FaceTime with him later, watch him open presents. The next best thing to being there. Thank God for technology, huh? I can’t imagine if this was the 90s, or what do the kids call the time after 2000? The early aughts? I ought to remember that. Hey Higgins–”
“Ted,” Higgins interrupted. “Are you alright?”
He exhaled loudly, leaning forward and dropping his elbows to his knees dejectedly.
“Am I doing the right thing?” Ted asked. “Being here with Henry being there. Missing, well, missing everything.”
”I think some things don’t have to be a right or wrong thing, Ted; I think they just are.”
”My dad— I lost my dad when I was a teenager,” Ted starts. Ted wasn’t sure he could bring himself to say the word suicide out loud at the moment. “Am I doing the same thing to Henry?”
Now, it was Leslie’s turn to exhale loudly.
Were he and his father really that different? Both abandoned their sons when they needed them.
“Ted, do you love Henry?” Higgins asked, the question surprising Ted.
“More than—“ he started to say something like more than the amount of trash in the ocean or more than Winnie the Pooh loves honey or more than Roy Kent likes to swear, but some things don’t need superlatives. “More than anything, yes.”
”Does Henry know?”
“Of course. I tell him every chance I get. Every time we talk, anytime I ever leave, I always say I love you. I learned that–” Ted paused, swallowing the hard lump building in his throat. “I learned that from my Dad.”
”Kids are simple, Ted. You tell them you love them, they believe you. You show them you love them, which I know you also do. Well, you do that, and they really believe you,” Leslie said, crossing his legs and making sure Ted was really looking at him before he continued. “You might not be there every day for him, but you are there for him every day. That’s what Henry is going to remember the most.”
”You really think so, Higgins?”
”I know, so. Julie and I were young when we had Lindsay, unmarried with no money. I worked two jobs so Julie could stay home because childcare was so expensive. I left before he woke up most mornings and came home after he was already asleep. But I was providing for the family. And he won’t remember that; he was too young. But he will remember the love that filled the house, the love the family of just us three had when we could be together.”
“That’s different though, don’t you think, Higgy bear? You were working to provide for your family.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing here?”
“Am I?” Ted retorted. “I took the job because Michelle needed space, and well, it was more money than I ever thought I would make coaching college football, sure, but I ran away, Higgins. Things got tough, and I ran away, telling myself I was doing what Michelle asked, but all I was doing was fleeing. Fleeing my marriage and fleeing my son, how can he forgive me for that?”
“Ted, do you love Henry?” Higgins asked again, his voice firm, surprising Ted again.
“Yes. Of course. He’s the reason for everything I do.”
“So what’re you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid of everything,” Ted admitted.
“I think you’re pretty courageous, Ted.”
Ted looked at him quizzically, “How?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
Ted scoffed lightly, “I’m here because I’m a coward.”
“I don’t think so, Ted,” Higgins said; he looked straight ahead, not meeting Ted’s eyes as he continued. “I think you knew whatever at home wasn’t working, not for you, not for Michelle and certainly not for Henry.”
“But–”
“Do you know what the number one indicator of whether children will grow up to thrive is?” Higgins asked.
“Having a present father in their life?”
Higgins shook his head and looked at him, “As dads, we would like to think that wouldn’t we? But it’s the quality of their mother’s happiness. If you have a depressed or anxious mother who has to disconnect from herself, she can not show up to nurture her child, and she cannot show up to support her child. She will teach her child about being in relationships with people, whether they can trust others, whether they can trust themselves, she teaches her child that not through her words, but through her actions.”
Higgins meant Michelle.
But all Ted could think about was Dottie.
His own mother was not a happy woman. She had moments, and she pretended to be happy, but she never recovered from losing Ted’s father. Not really, not in any way that mattered, not in any way that let her be there for Ted the way he needed her to be. Ted had never recovered either, but he wasn’t responsible for another human being until Henry.
Dottie taught Ted how to pretend to be happy, but he doesn’t know if he’s genuinely been happy since that September Friday that changed his life. He doesn’t think anyone would consider him to be thriving.
Michelle wasn’t happy near the end of their marriage. He can see that fully now as if the ocean between them and time has turned him into a Monday morning Tom Brady. But one thing about Michelle that has stayed consistent all these years is that she’s always been a good mom, even when she wasn’t a happy wife.
“Should I be offended by how much happier Michelle seems since we divorced? She’s moved on to a new relationship and everything.”
“Moving on looks different for everyone, Ted,” Leslie said. “I would say you’ve moved on, too.”
“I’m still single, Higgins,” Ted sighed.
“Relationship status does not automatically equal happiness, Ted. Being single doesn’t mean someone is unhappy, the same way being in a relationship doesn’t guarantee happiness. But we also can’t be good partners to someone if we aren’t happy with ourselves. Are you happy with yourself, Ted?”
Ted chewed his lip, not prepared to say what he wanted to, which was no, he wasn't happy, unwilling to give truth to the darker thoughts he often found at the bottom of a bottle lately.
“Ted?” Leslie pressed when he didn’t respond.
“I’m not– I’m not happy with myself: as a person, as a coach, as a father. I feel like I can’t get my footing on any of it. Like I’m stuck in some quicksand and can’t find anyone to pull me out.”
Higgins pulled him into a hug without warning. Ted felt stiff at first, then relaxed and melted into the Englishman’s embrace like butter in a warm pan. The only other person Ted has ever felt this safe in the arms of was Beard. But Higgins held him tight and wouldn’t let go, long past when an average person might consider the hug too long.
Luckily for Higgins, most people would never have considered Ted normal. Luckily for Ted, certainly no one would accuse Leslie of normalcy either.
“You’re a great hugger; has anyone ever told you that?” Ted asked, sniffling once he finally pulled away, wiping haphazardly at the tears he hadn’t realised began to fall.
“My wife.”
”Ah, yeah, that makes sense.”
“And the boys when they let me,” Higgins smiled, a bit sadly if Ted was reading it correctly. Henry hadn’t spurned any of Ted’s extra long hugs yet, but he knew the day was coming.
“What did you get Henry for his birthday?”
“An overpriced guilt gift. Isaac helped me pick out the latest gaming system.”
“You know, Ted. You can always go home.”
“If I didn’t know any better I would think you were trying to get rid of me.”
“Ah, never. But there would be no shame in it. What you’ve built here in Richmond? That can never be taken away. You’ve changed this club for the better and what you’ve done has left lasting change, no matter where we finish on the table this year.”
“You’re the most Diamondest Dog there is, you know that?”
“Just a friend looking out for another friend.”
Ted stood, thrusting a hand out to Higgins to help him stand as well.
“What do you say? We check out the cafeteria to see if they have any of that chocolate pudding left. I still have a few hours before Henry is out of school.”
“Okay, but only if you’re buying.”
“It’s all free, Higgins.”
“I was joking,” Leslie said.
“Oh, you got me!” Ted said, pointing a finger at him.
Higgins smiled, “You’re a good Dad, Ted. Never forget that, and Henry won’t either.”
Ted could only hope Higgins was as right about this as he was about everything else, but then again, he’s never had reason to doubt his friend’s advice before. Why start now?