Chapter Text
EVERYTHING LOOKED DIFFERENT THROUGH A LENS. Airplanes become small. They become still and quiet. People turn to props instead of agonizing souls floating through life with no direction. Through a lens, everything is left up to interpretation. Stories blossom and dreams become possible. At least, that's what Bear Lasso believes.
"It's just a little plane," Ted attempted to assure her, hands deep inside his pockets. Bear lowered the camera from eye level and stared out the big window toward the flying devices in the airport. "I know," she replied. Coach Beard sighed, peering outside with a blank expression. "It's tin," he stated bluntly. She nodded her head. "I know," she echoed, letting the camera fall from her grasp and rest against her stomach.
The intercom crackled on, a perfect customer service voice dawning over the intercoms. The trio stood there and waited as the call for their flight sounded. "It'll be fine," Ted said. She nodded her head, biting back her third I know. He glanced toward his younger sister curiously. "You wanna take some Dramamine?"
Coach Beard then turned to her. "Benadryl?" he asked. She cracked a slight smile, a breath of a laugh expelling through her nose. The two men leaned forward just enough to share a look with the other. "I'm okay," she huffed. "It's just a tin can of people sardines, right?"
"People sardines," Ted chuckled. He shook his head at the woman. "Never thought of it that way." Bear sighed, wiping her sweaty palms against her jeans. "Alright, fellas. Let's head out. Time to cross the pond or whatever its called." She put on a big smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. Not because she wasn't happy for this new opportunity. She's so excited, really, but not to fly in a plane. No, she'd rather ride a raft to England than sit in a flying death trap.
She wiggled her fingers and her toes, letting her eyes close for a brief moment. With a deep breath in, she turned on her heels and began marching toward their gate. "After you, then," Ted hummed, grinning over at Coach Beard. He motioned Coach Beard forward, bringing in the rear on their little makeshift train. "Time to spend nine glorious hours on a plane with two of my favorite people," he continued with a big grin.
Bear paused. Her whole body suddenly felt stiff. She turned back to face Ted with an astounded look on her face. "Did you just say nine hours?" she asked, her voice cracking in the middle. He didn't seem to notice the panic that flooded her irises or the way her fingers started to curl into themselves. He nodded, happily, ready to continue this journey. "Still don't want the benadryl?" Coach Beard asked.
Silently, she held out her hand for the pack of medication. If she was going to spend nine hours on the plane, she'd rather be sleeping than awake. He reached into his carry on bag and dug out the orange box. When it hit her palm, she offered the man a small, nervous smile. "Thank you," she exhaled.
"We should get going," Ted said. "Don't want them to leave without us." She took out a small square and popped it open, popping the little pink pill into her mouth. "No offense, Teddy, but this enthusiasm is making my stomach feel funny," she admitted. Her older brother only shrugged, amused by her admission. "I appreciate your candor there, Bear."
She gave him a two finger salute before handing the box back to Coach Beard. "Have either of you seen Final Destination?" she interrogated as the trio moved toward their gate once more. Coach Beard nodded his head. "Gettin' any visions?" he asked. She closed her eyes, pressing a finger to her temple. He watched as her brows furrowed and un-furrowed before she sighed, eyes blinking open. "Nope. Guess we're safe."
"Or Death doesn't trust ya," Ted hummed before greeting a woman in uniform.
NINE HOURS LATER . . .
"You didn't sleep at all?" Coach Beard asked from his position on Ted's right side. Ted shook his head. "Not a wink," he replied. "No, my brain just kept on cooking." Bear heaved a heavy sigh. She walked a short distance behind the two man with droopy eyes and disheveled hair. "At first, I was thinking about not sleeping. Then I was thinking about thinking about not sleeping. And that-- That's never good. Next thing you know, they're handing out warm chocolate chip cookies and the plane's landing."
"Wait," Bear blurted out, her steps speeding up to catch up. She squeezed between the two men with ease. "There were chocolate chip cookies?" she asked. Even Coach Beard seemed surprised by the news. "I didn't get a cookie," he said. The two both turned to Ted. "Did you eat our cookies?" Bear asked.
Ted waved off the question. "That's not part of the story," he replied. "I think this is us right here." He pointed in front of him toward a man holding a sign with Ted's full name written on it. Unconsciously, Bear's steps slowed as she reached for her camera. "Hey, how ya doin'?" Ted asked the man. Click. The first picture captured Ted and Beard approaching the man, the sign on full display. "My name's Ted. What's yours?"
Click. She captured Ted and the man shaking hands next. "Ollie," he replied with a beaming smile. She set the camera down and caught up to the trio. "Ollie, alright," Ted replied in his usual chipper tone. Ollie then began moving in, offering to take their bags. The three looked confused by his offer. "Oh, no, no, no, Ollie. We packed 'em, we'll carry 'em," Ted said. "Love to make a little pit stop though."
Her interest peaked. She'd love any opportunity of capturing the city of Thames. Ollie nodded his head, his smile still present. "Okay," he chuckled, "follow me." Bear hummed a bit before stopping the three. "First, um, do you mind taking my camera and taking a picture of the three of us?" she asked, already pulling the strap over her head. Ollie nodded, eyes wide, reaching for the camera. "Oh, picture time. I love picture time," Ted rambled tiredly.
Coach Beard shot Bear a look that made her smile grow. She knew that he wasn't that fond of being in front of the camera, but they were making new memories. It was a new start, and she'd be damned if she didn't get a proper photo of it. She grabbed his sleeve, ignoring the heavy sigh he expelled out of annoyance. "Just try and look happy about it," she hummed, directing the two to the perfect place.
Once they were set, she wriggled between them. "Say Thames!" Ollie cheered. The three smiled — or Ted and Bear smiled while Coach Beard looked straight into the lens — as the flash went off. Beard was the first to move off. He wasn't going to let her rope him into a second photo. She shifted onto her toes, glancing over at Ted. "One for Mom?" she asked. His eyes met hers. "Sounds good. We can send one to Henry too."
Ted wrapped an arm around Bear's shoulders and pulled her closer. She tossed up a peace sign, her smile growing twice as big. "Cheese!" the two cheered in unison before the second flash went off.
TWO HOURS AND SIX MINUTES LATER . . .
After visiting the Tower Bridge and letting Ted live out his Dorothy fantasy, the three Americans finally made it to Nelson Road Stadium. It wasn't as dramatic as Bear had expected. She thought there would be spotlights and flags and fans loitering around just to get a glance at the field. Instead it was pretty abandoned, like an amusement park from the sixties that got shut down because of haunting rumors.
"You wanna know how they came up with soccer?" Coach Beard asked as the three walked through the dark building. He didn't wait for either Lasso to answer before continuing with his genius. "So, these Victorian-era headmasters, all they wanted to do was get the boys to stop masturbating. So they invented a sport where the boys wouldn't use their hands at all, and they thought that might do the trick."
"Aren't there other ways to masturbate?" Bear asked, brows furrowed. Beard shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sure if someone is creative enough, they could find a way—" The squealing of a gate caught the two's attention. They spun around only to find Ted missing. Bear nodded her head toward where she suspected he ducked out, Beard nodding in agreement for them to follow.
It was like walking out onto a football field. Darkness with a light at the end of a tunnel. Bear lifted her camera eye level upon spotting her brother's silhouette. Click. Coach Beard stopped beside her. "Go on," she told him, waving him forward. "It'll look nice." He sighed before continuing until he stopped right next to Ted, looking out at the field. Click.
She glanced over the camera for a moment. Things were starting to get real. The plane ride, it was real. It was so real that it had her puking in the bathroom within the first hour. Even riding in a backwards car was real. But this — this is real. She's not in Kansas, sitting on the sidelines anymore. She's not watching sweaty, padded men tackle one another for a ball. She's in England, where they drink leaf boiled water and eat cookies called biscuits.
Click. The camera returned to its place next to her stomach. She hurried after the two men, excited to get her first glimpse of the pitch. "Damn," she sighed, hands moving to her hips. Ted and Beard both glanced back at the woman. "We're really not in Kansas anymore." She looked between the two men for a moment. "Last one down is a rotten egg."
They didn't expect her to abandon her bags or race down the steps to the pitch. Ted looked flustered, Coach Beard immediately following after her just a few steps behind. Soon enough, the three were excitedly taking the stairs until their shoes left the concrete for a soft grass. Her chest heaved as she took in deep breaths, reaching for her camera. Blue and red seats surrounded them, spelling out the mascot of the team. Greyhounds. An ugly dog.
Ted took a knee, expelling struggling breaths as he took in the texture of the grass. "Feels different," he admitted. "Well, it feels the same... but different." Coach Beard took a long look around the stadium. "Metaphor," he deadpanned.
"You know it, baby," Ted replied. Bear lifted her camera eye level, peering out over the field through the lens. Just like before, it looked smaller. It looked peaceful and still. "It's beautiful," she stated, zooming in to a small area just across the pitch. There was something moving in, moving around frantically. Her brows furrowed as the quiet shouts finally reached their side of the stadium.
Bear glanced over her shoulder toward the two men. "I think we've got a visitor, boys." Coach Beard's face shifted from a clean slate to an expression of confusion. The little man continued to shout at them as he approached. "Stop touching the grass! Get off! Get off the pitch! Stop touching the grass! Please!"
Ted hurried back to his feet, grabbing Bear by the back of her shirt to yank her back. She stumbled back into his side, the three staring back at the man running at them in slight fear along with surprise. "Oh, God. Are we going to get arrested? Is this illegal?" Bear asked, her question directed toward Beard rather than her brother. He only shrugged. She grabbed Ted's arm, fingers digging into his sleeve tight. "We're not gonna get arrested," he whispered, maintaining that positive attitude. "I don't think."
By the time the little fella had gotten to them, he was out of breath. He stared between the three in complete confusion with a side of anger. "Who are you?" he asked. They continued to back away in case they needed to make a break for it. "I'm Ted Lasso. This is Coach Beard here and my little sister Bear," Ted introduced them, pointing them out as he did so. The man's face slipped into a look of surprise.
"Oh, God. You're the new manager!" he exclaimed. "Yes, sir," Ted replied. The man looked flabbergasted. Quietly, Bear lifted her camera in hopes of capturing a photo. Noticing this, Ted put his hand over the lens, lowering her hands back down. "I'm so-- Take all the grass you want," he blubbered, even going as far to bend down and start picking the strands himself. "We just had it cut. I can go through the garbage. I can get you some more."
"He doesn't want the grass," Bear said. His head snapped toward the woman that stood approximately an inch and a half taller than him. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. Ted shot his sister a look. "She's right. It's all good," he sighed. Coach Beard stood off to the side, looking between the three. An awkward silence filled the area between them as the newcomer looked over each of the Americans. "Still, we got to get off the grass," he said.
Ted hopped next to Bear. "Yeah, yeah. Absolutely." Ted patted Bear's shoulder, encouraging her to move a bit faster. She turned on her heels and followed him back the way they had come. "Do we apologize?" she asked, her voice a whisper. Ted only shrugged before looking over his shoulder. "Sorry about that, grass." Bear and Beard both apologized in unison.
The ascent up the stairs felt like it took longer than the descent, but not as tiring. Beard got there first, then Ted, the Bear, and then their new friend. She happily accepted her luggage from their bearded friend, tossing her shoulder bag over her shoulder. Their new friend motioned them back down the hall with a small, nervous smile. "He's a twitchy thing, isn't he?" Bear whispered, looking at Coach Beard expectantly.
He shrugged before stretching out his arm, beckoning her forward. She did as told, following after the two. "So, we're supposed to meet with a Rebecca Welton," Ted said. The man nodded, glancing over his shoulder at the trio briefly. "Yeah, that's where I'm taking you," he replied. Ted looked surprised. "Oh, look at this guy. One step ahead."
Click. Uniforms sat on mannequins lining the hall, along with vintage ones in glass cases. Bear glanced toward Ted with a small smile to show she had heard him. "Hey, what's your name, by the way?" Ted then asked, turning back to the newcomer. He spun around, stopping abruptly in his spot. "Me?" he questioned shyly, wearing a smile that did nothing to hide the shock he felt. Ted nodded his head, seemingly oblivious to the surprise.
"No one ever asks my name," he said. Bear lowered her camera to focus on the conversation. Maybe it's a bit mean to say, but it all felt a little stereotypical. An awkward silence befell the four as they waited for his name. "We're asking now," Bear blurted out, offering him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Whenever you're ready," added Ted to hopefully soften her remark.
"Oh, it's Nathan," he finally answered. She glanced toward Beard to gauge his feelings on everything, but like usual, he remained cool as a cucumber. "Nathan! I love that name. Hey, love your hot dogs." Ted laughed at his own joke. "More of a Frank's girl," she hummed, turning back to the memorabilia on the walls. "Y'all got Nathan's hot dogs here?" Ted asked, noticing the lack of humor behind Nate's expression.
He shook his head, still wearing that same, awkward smile. "Okay," Ted deadpanned. Thinking this was the end of it, Nate continued on his way toward Rebecca Welton's office. "I love this kid," Ted sighed, smiling over at the other two. "Love him." He was the first to follow, then Coach Beard, and finally Bear.
Click. She watched her brother and friend grow further away to their destiny. In a few seconds, they'll breach the door dividing them from their future. She lowered the camera ever so slightly before snapping a second photo. Click. She stumbled on the first step, eyes widening as she braced herself before she could fall on her face. Beard looked back in surprise to see her having fallen, but he didn't say anything.
"I'll introduce you. Big boss," Nate rambled, stepping into the open doorway before them. Bear followed Ted toward a small couch outside of the office. "Everything's so fancy," she whispered, nudging his arm. His brows lifted, head bouncing in a nod of agreement. "Feels like I'm in Sir Ian McKellen's house."
Beard shook his head. Before he could make a remark, Nate came stumbling from the office and rushing down the stairs. Coach Beard and Ted both leaned in, staring down the path their new friend had taken before looking into the office. Bear stepped closer, leaning over Ted to get a look. There was an older gentleman and a woman extremely tall present. "Hey, how y'all doin'?" Ted asked, waving. "I'm Ted Lasso, your new coach."
Bear blinked. "You must be Miss Welton," Ted continued, entering the office to shake her hand. She looked astonished. Beard chuckled, quietly, to himself at the expression on the little Lasso's face. "Please, call me Rebecca," Miss Welton replied. "Ms. Welton's my father."
Even her voice sounded like something straight out of her dreams. Ted looked back at his sister, knowing she'd get a kick out of the joke, only to see her more starstruck and obviously not really listening. "If that's a joke, I love it. If not, then I cannot wait to unpack that with you." Beard tapped Bear's hand to get her attention, motioning for her to follow. The duo entered the office silently after her brother. "Uh, this here is Coach Beard."
Rebecca shook his hand with a smile. "And that is our sports photographer, Bear."
"Beatrice," she quickly corrected, extending her hand out to Rebecca. "A sports photographer," Rebecca echoed in surprise. "What does a sports photographer... do?" Ted glanced toward Bear with an eager excitement that had her rolling her eyes. She nodded her head at him, giving him the permission he so desperately wanted. "Bear here takes photos of the team as a whole or players alone during practice, games, and stuff like that for the social media and team websites. She did a heck of a job back in Kansas."
Hearing Ted gush over her work did always put a light in her day. Rebecca nodded her head, seemingly in interest. "Well, it is so good to finally meet you all face-to-face. Higgins?" She turned briefly toward the older gentleman present before realizing her mistake. "Sorry. This is Higgins, our current director of communications." The Lasso siblings waved at the man with smiles while Beard nodded, coolly. "Could you take Coach Beard and... Bear?"
Bear's smile faltered a bit, but she nodded her head. Way to look like a child in front of a beautiful woman. "And Bear to get them their IDs, housing information... You know, anything they need."
"Wi-Fi password, wet wipes," Ted added.
"Humidifier. Way ahead of you, Coach," Beard completed.
Higgins approached the two with a warm smile. "Are there any places I can get photos developed?" Bear asked, already starting to conversate with the man. He nodded his head with a bit of a smile. "I'm sure," he replied, "I can ask around for you, if you'd like."
"She'll never leave," Beard joked. The trio slipped down the steps where she had stumbled just earlier. "We'll have to make a stop beforehand. Coach Lasso is meeting with the press," Higgins explained. Beard and Bear stopped and glanced at the other. Ted wasn't awful with the press by all means, but this was new territory. Plus, he hadn't slept for over nine hours. "You're kidding, right?" Bear asked. "Is this, like, a hazing thing?"
"Oh, no. No, it's not hazing," Higgins replied. Bear grabbed hold of Beard's arm. "You two can stand in the back. I just have to announce him." She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Ted was getting thrown to the wolves. "He'll be okay," Beard said. Bear wasn't completely convinced that he believed himself, but she wasn't going to argue. It wouldn't help, anyway.
Higgins opened a pair of double doors. There were tons of reporters and cameras in there, speaking to one another, waiting for Ted's arrival. Bear and Beard took a spot in the back of the room, shoulder to shoulder, avoiding the television crew's cameras pointed directly at the table front and center. "He can do this," Bear whispered, stretching out her fingers in hopes of getting rid of the anxiety that settled deep in the pit of her stomach.
If anyone could travel halfway across the world to coach a sport he's never even watched before, it was Ted. And if that same man can do that, he could do an impromptu press conference. "Alright, without further adieu, the new manager of AFC Richmond, Ted Lasso!" Higgins introduced just as the door off to the side opened for Ted and Rebecca.
There was scattered applause barely audible over the flashing of cameras. Bear applauded for her brother, ignoring the glances thrown her way. Ted cleared his throat, approaching the small table with a nervous grin. "Okay," he exhaled, taking his seat. "Alright. How y'all doin'?" The press in the front row set up their recorders on the table before him.
"One sec. Let me just-- Throat got a little dry." He looked smaller through the lens of her camera. Click. One photo, a photo of his next step. He looked good up there, just like before. He was nervous, sure, but he'd get back into the swing of things. He always did. Click. He choked, threatening to spit out the beverage he had just taken a swig from. Beard and Bear both grimaced. "Did not expect fizzy water there. Sorry."
He giggled nervously, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. "Okay. So, hey. Why don't we just jump right in? Anybody got any questions?" She lowered her camera, watching her brother with a smile. Immediately, hands shot up from all around the room. "Oh, yeah, no. Should've saw that coming," Ted chuckled. "You know what? You can put your hands down. Real quick--"
Ted finally locked eyes with Bear. She offered him two thumbs up and a big smile. "How about I go ahead and address the larger-than-average elephant in the room. No, I have never coached the sport that you folks called football at any level. Uh, and, heck, you could fill two Internets with what I don't know about football. But I'll tell you what I do know."
Bear glanced out around the room at the scattered laughter. "I know that AFC Richmond, like any team I've ever coached, is gonna go out there and give you everything they got for all four quarters."
"Halves," a reporter spoke up. Bear hid behind her camera, eyes squeezed closed in embarrassment. "What's that?" Ted replied, brows furrowing slightly. "Two halves," the same reporter from before said. Ted's face dawned recognition, a smile evident on his features. "Oh, right. Sorry. Halves. They're gonna give you everything they got for two halves, win or lose."
"Or tie," another reporter stated. "Right. Y'all do ties here. Sorry. That's going to take some getting used to for me," Ted admitted. "'Cause back where I'm from, you try to end a game in a tie, well, that might as well be the first sign of the apocalypse." No one seemed to laugh along with Ted's statement, not even his two most loyal companions. "Now, look here. I respect what you folks in the media do. And my door is always gonna be open. Alright? You can ask me anything. No topic will be into touch."
Ted winked over at Coach Beard. Groaning slightly, Bear finally lowered her camera. "I'm going to throw up," she whispered. "Alright, one final question," Higgins announced. Several hands raised into the air, journalists just itching for a chance to ask the eldest Lasso a question that might trip him up, or might make him seem better than what he's painting himself. Ted looked over the group of people before pointing, "How about the fella right there in the second row."
An older man with nice hair stood, standing out in his brown jacket. "I like your glasses," Ted complimented him sweetly. The reporter then took off his glasses, a hint of a smile toying at the corners of his lips. "Thank you," he replied. "Trent Crimm, The Independent. I just want to make sure I have this right."
"Oh, boy," Bear huffed.
"You're an American who's never set foot in England, whose athletic success has only come at the amateur level-- a second-tier one at that-- and is now being charged with the leadership of a Premier League football club, despite clearly possessing very little knowledge of the game."
Bear hid her face. Hearing it like that didn't feel so good. "You got a question in there, Trent?" Ted asked, still wearing his signature smile. Trent wore a pensive look. "Yeah. Is this a fucking joke?" Everyone began to laugh at this, filling the media room with a gut punching ruckus. Ted's smile faltered slightly. "I mean, can you even name any footballers?" one reporter from before asked.
"Well, yeah, you got Ronaldo and the fella that bends it like himself," Ted replied. Bear peered over her hands at Higgins, hoping he'd step in and kill the abuse. However, he couldn't meet her eyes. "Do you even know how many games are in a Premiership season?"
"Not off the top of my head, no," Ted answered.
"Who won the league last year?"
"I actually don't know the answer to that. I'm sorry."
Back home, she would jump right in. She'd laugh it all off and make some stupid joke that would have Ted glowing. But here — here — she couldn't. She glanced at Beard, a worried expression warping her features. They were yelling, laughing, cursing. It was growing louder and louder, like he was trapped in a cave with no way out.
Ted reached for the water bottle to his side nervously. Bear's eyes widened. "No, no, no—" Ted took a big drink only to spew it all over the front row of reporters. Hurriedly, Rebecca stepped in. "Coach Lasso. Good Lord, you must forgive my fellow countrymen. Somewhere over the last few years, we seem to have abandoned all sense of manners and hospitality," she spoke loud and confidently. "My, my, aren't you a salty bunch."
Salty is right, Bear thought. Rebecca sighed gently, hands folded in front of her. "But I can't remember the last time the press room was this full," she declared. "Yet here you all are. Maybe you're not such a mad notion after all." Ted glanced toward Beard and Bear with a humiliated look on his face.
It's okay, she mouthed, moving her hand in a calming motion to remind him to breathe. He followed, sucking in air and exhaling it through his nose as quietly as he could. "And despite the number of you here, there is not a single person in this room who has seen Richmond play more than I have. And in all those years under the stewardship of the previous owner, I've witnessed nothing but profound mediocrity," Rebecca stated matter-of-factly.
Both Ted and Bear flinched at the remark. What a way to tell it like it is. "Am I wrong?" she asked upon hearing the muttering of the reporters and their sly laughter. Their reactions were enough to cement the idea that reporters are nothing but animals with no humanity whatsoever into Bear's mind. "It's a bit harsh," one of the reporters who had been mocking Ted said.
There was a beat of intimidating silence as Rebecca stared him down, the corners of her lips turned upward ever so slightly. She scoffed, quietly, under her breath. "Am I wrong?" she asked once more, her tone much darker and richer than before. As if she was challenging them to argue. Who else would know her team better than the owner herself? "No," he replied, appearing smaller compared to before.
Click. She didn't even notice herself snapping the photo before it was already done. She captured the situation perfectly. It was like photographing a lioness staring down a weak gazelle. It was enough to give her goosebumps. "Now, Coach Lasso may not have the CV that you all find acceptable, but he does have one thing this club doesn't: a trophy from this millennium."
The trio all looked shocked to hear her say such a thing. They've all experienced tough love, but this was harsh. "So, like it or not, Richmond are changing the way we do things. And from now on, that way is the Lasso way." Ted smiled, tapping his fingers softly against the top of the table. He was hoping the questions would be over soon so he can puke, or cry, or die of embarrassment. Just for a little while.
"We look forward to seeing you all at our next match with Crystal Palace. Thank you so much." Rebecca turned toward Ted, signaling with her eyes that the conference was over. He stood up a little too fast, slicking his hair back. Before he left, he bent over into the microphones one last time. "Nice meeting y'all. And sorry for spittin' on all your stuff up here. Thank you."
Bear released a heavy sigh, turning toward Coach Beard. "I'll get the housing info and stuff. You go after Teddy." He nodded in agreement as Rebecca and Ted walked past. Nodding their heads in unison, Bear and Beard went their separate ways. She'd meet back up with them in a little while.