Chapter Text
AFTER GATHERING EVERYTHING THEY COULD NEED AND SUCH, BEAR MADE HER WAY OUT TO THE PITCH. A part of her was nervous. There were moments where working for a bunch of football players didn't play out in the best possible way. She wasn't sure if American football players and European football players differed, but that possibility was enough to have her jogging down the tunnel and toward the bright light beckoning for her.
She could hear the sounds of voices and whistles and it really took her back. To elementary track, to high school track, to college football games. It reminded her of the long days in the sweltering heat, running until her legs gave out on her, and listening to her grandfather cheer her on from the seat of his truck. She broke out into the light, immediately raising her camera.
Some were wearing grey shirts, others in neon yellow vests. Click. Their movements paused, frozen forever in the image she had taken. She turned, spotting her brother and friend, a smile cracking across her features. Click. They looked awkward there, spectating. Ted was as lost as a chicken in a field of ducks, but it didn't matter. He had Coach Beard to lead him with his endless knowledge.
She turned back to the pitch, capturing the perfect picture. Click. A player had flipped onto his back, sending the ball into the barrier around the net. It was evident in the photo that it was off, but it was cool nonetheless. She sighed, lowering her camera and finally making her way toward the coaches. "Jamie Tartt," she head Beard say, "Top scorer on the team."
She huffed out a sigh, hands moving to her hips as she took her place next to Coach Beard. Her eyes followed Jamie, noticing the way he shoved off another player's hand. "Looks like a punk," she commented, brown eyes narrowed. Ted waved her off, turning to the insider on their team. "Nate, what's he like?" he asked.
"Who? Jamie?" Nate replied, looking like a doe caught in headlights. He began muttering, stumbling over his words. "He's great. You know, at football," he concluded. Ted glanced toward the two behind him. He was expecting more of a deep dive into his personal life, maybe even his psyche. He wanted to know Jamie, as a person and not a footballer. "I read guys like him easy," Bear continued, meeting her brother's eyes, "He's a twat."
Beard chuckled under his breath while Ted looked at his sister with a stunned expression. "What? I heard someone use it on the plane," she explained. "And Gordon Ramsey says it." There was more shouting that dragged that conversation to the end. The same player from before kicked the ball a good distance away.
"Sam Obisanya. He's a right back defender outta the Nigerian league." Click. Bear smiled unconsciously, glancing down at the photo she had just taken. "Nigeria? Like Africa?" Ted asked in disbelief. Sam was puffed up, watching the ball. She imagined the picture with a black and white filter thrown over it. It could be a picture in Time magazine. "So, these fellas are from all over the place?"
"It's like the draft, except it isn't just exclusive to America," Bear explained. She looked back out to the field, camera ready. "I'm open, boyo," one of the players closer to them shouted. Ted smiled to himself. "I mean, he must be from England, yeah?"
"Wales," Coach Beard corrected him. Confusion puckered between the head coach's eyebrows. "Is that another country." Bear rolled her eyes at the two, inching toward the lines. She brought the camera back up to her eye and followed the movement. Click.
"Yes and no," Beard replied. Ted sighed, his eyes flickering from his sister and the players. "How many countries are in this country?" he asked. Click. They were turning back their way. She could easily spot Sam amidst everyone. He had a beautiful smile. It stood out amongst everyone else like a lighthouse over a dark and stormy sea.
Click. "Four," Coach Beard and Nate replied in unison. She snorted, half listening to their conversation and half focusing on the task at hand. She had tons of practice capturing motion back in Kansas. It proved only slightly more difficult here. She pulled her camera back, shielding the screen with her hand to get a good look at the photo she had just shot.
She noticed the ball in the corner, the players all moving fluidly. She cracked a smile, praising herself silently for the skilled shot. However, the praise died down as a sudden impact jostled her head back. Her weight shifted, throwing her into the grass, her camera barely missing impact with the hard earth beneath her. "Oh, no," she heard Ted say before footsteps silenced by the grass around her.
Three pairs soon turned into many more as players and coaches alike approached her. A red flush stained her skin. "I'm okay," she blurted out, ignoring the dull thumping in her skull and the throbbing that matched the racing of her heartbeat. Ted knelt beside her, grasping her hand and helping her sit up. "I got too close," she whispered, embarrassment lacing her tone. "Good gracious," Ted exclaimed in shock. "Mama's gonna kill me when she finds out you got hurt on my watch."
Bear looked up at her brother, brows furrowed. One hand slipped toward her skull, pressing into the tender skin. "Well, it's a good thing Mama isn't here, then," she replied, sarcastically. He shushed her, brushing some of her hair from her face. They were lucky their mom wasn't there. She'd storm down there and whoop them both.
"I am so sorry," a new voice sounded out and pushing toward the front of the crowd was Sam Obisanya. Her eyes widened upon seeing him, heart stopping dangerously in her chest. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. His face fell even more, screwing up in guilt. She laughed, a nervous tick, clutching for her camera. "It's fine," she replied, her tone raising an octave. "It didn't even hurt."
Ted helped her to her feet. She blinked, a sense of dizziness washing over her. She squeezed his hand, her other hand pressing her camera to her stomach. "It made for a gorgeous picture," she joked, looking at Coach Beard for help. He stared, blankly, before shaking his head. "I am so sorry," Sam repeated. "Are you sure you are okay?"
She nodded, swallowing down the bile that tickled the back of her throat. She didn't want to seem weak in front of these people. As a woman, she had to be strong. She had to be tough and scary. Or else she'd never be taken seriously. She turned her head toward Ted, and leaned in. "I'm going to throw up," she warned him, her voice barely audible. He grimaced at the fact. "Sorry, fellas. Go ahead and finish, uh, training," he instructed while pulling her arm over his shoulders.
"Nice kick," she complimented the player before allowing Ted to maneuver her away from the scene. Her stomach was twisting painfully. Her head was throbbing. "Nice kick?" Ted echoed, smiling over at his sister. She shrugged. "What else am I supposed to say? The guy hit me in the head with a soccer ball."
"You wandered too far," Coach Beard hummed, matching their stride. Her head lolled toward Coach Beard and she stuck her tongue out at him. He didn't respond, amused with her reply. "Let's just make sure you don't have a concussion," Ted said, breaking up the two's silent banter.
She scoffed in disbelief. "Am I the first ever person to get a concussion from a sport they weren't even playing?" she asked. Ted's chest rumbled as he tried his best to silence his laughter. Leave it to Beatrice.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER . . .
It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last time Bear ever had a light shined in her eyes. Or for her to answer the usual questions to determine whether or not she'd lost a braincell or two. But it was her first injury in England, and a new record. She'd been there all of a few hours and already sustained an injury that could have possibly really hurt her. But on the bright side, at least she's still kicking.
"It smells like a frat house," she sighed, swinging her legs from the tables in the center of the room. Ted chuckled, wandering on one side of the divider and looking over the lockers. It felt a little surreal being there. Just a day ago, they were leaving the confines of America for a whole new world. Now, they're there and still in a stinky locker room.
Several excited voices echoed down the corridor and through the opened door. Bear swiftly slid from her place and onto the floor, moving to stand beside her brother and their friend. In came the players, some shirtless, some not. Bear ignored the urge to ogle. It's not a new experience, even thought it felt quite different. Maybe it's the accents.
As the players passed, they examined the trio. The Americans were impeding on their space. They were trespassing on their grounds. It made sense for them to be a little weary. And if they had seen the press conference, Bear wouldn't blame them for wanting to chase them out with fire and pitchforks. She shrunk back as Roy Kent passed by, his stone gaze locked on Ted.
"Yeesh," her brother muttered, glancing toward his staff. "Last time I saw eyes that cold, they were going head-to-head with Roy Scheider." Bear's brows furrowed. "Jaws?" Beard replied. Ted scoffed. "No, All That Jazz. I'm gonna say something."
She bit back an argument. Ted needed to say something. He needed to greet the people, extend an olive branch. And hope that they don't kill him. "Howdy, fellas," he greeted the room politely. She glanced around him, noticing Sam sitting. He offered her an apologetic smile and a miniscule wave of his fingers. She felt her heart leap into her throat as she smiled in return. "Don't stop what you're doing," Ted continued, "My name's Ted Lasso. This here is Coach Beard and Bear Lasso."
Her eyes instinctively closed in shame at the nickname Ted refuses to let die. Back home, it was cute. It was her as a person. Everyone knew her as Bear. She didn't want her fresh start to be burdened with the past. "I know we don't officially start quite yet, but, uh, you know, we just wanted to pop in, say howdy, let you know how excited we are to be here--"
"Knock, knock!" a new voice joined. Heads turned to the door where a woman slowly entered, hand covering her eyes. "Is everyone in here decent?" she asked in a teasing tone. There were several responses that jumbled together and she dropped her hands quick. "Oh, boys, that's disappointing," she joked with a pout of her lips.
A higher power couldn't stop Bear from rolling her eyes. "Oh, shit. Am I interrupting you?" she asked, looking somewhat apologetic. Bear scoffed. "Uh, yeah," she replied. Some of the players shared looks, surprised by the brunette's response. Ted chuckled. "No, no, that's okay. How can I help you?"
Bear crossed her arms over her chest. Ted was already allowing someone to push him around, and she didn't even work there. "Oh, no," she replied, her tone sweet, and she pointed toward Jamie, "I'm here to pick up that one."
"Yeah," Jamie said, and Bear felt surprised by his accent. "Sorry, Coach. She made me an appointment. I'm getting waxed." A few of the players made their sounds, a low whistle here and there. "It's more for the fans than it is for me," he admitted, now fully dressed. "Score a goal, gotta take my shirt off."
He winked over at the three. "Sweetheart," the new woman cooed. Bear almost gagged. "I mean, I can stay if you want." Everyone's eyes seemed to be locked on Ted. Even Bear and Beard watched him, waiting for his answer. In typical Ted Lasso fashion, he waved off the man. "No, that's okay," he replied.
"Alright, cheers," Jamie replied. He extended his fist for Ted to bump, the older man staring awkwardly between them. Bear leaned toward Beard, shuffling her weight onto one side. "Twat," she whispered. The couple conversed playfully until Jamie's girlfriend left the room, hips swaying dramatically. The players all laughed, cheering and whistling for the girl before turning back to their own thing.
Ted turned back to his players, hands slipping into his front pockets. "Anyhoo, thank you for your time." Beard nudged Bear, nodding his head toward their office. She followed his lead, Ted bringing up the rear as they huddled into the office. "This place is nice," the youngest of the three said, climbing up onto one of the tables.
"No.. No, somethin' ain't right," Ted said. He sat down in his chair across the room from Beard. The two desks were on opposite sides of the room. She sat back, watching silently as the renovation began. Just as they began moving things, Bear noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye. Curiously, she turned her head toward the window and noticed Sam pacing.
When he looked back over, he met her eyes. He wore than same timid smile and waved the same, shy wave. She slipped off of the table and approached the door. "How are you feeling?" he asked once she took purchase of the threshold. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossing over her chest. "Fit as a fiddle," she replied. "So, no need to feel bad anymore."
"I don't think that will happen any time soon," he replied with a slight laugh. She tilted her head, looking up at him curiously. Her lips pursed as she straightened her posture. "Were you aiming for me?" she asked.
His face dropped. "No! No, of course not," he answered and she could tell that he was telling the truth. She dropped the skepticism and smiled. "Then, we're okay. It was an accident." He released a heavy breath. She hadn't noticed the way he was wringing his hands out in front of him. "Is there anything I can do to make up for what happened?"
She glanced over her shoulder, noticing Beard putting up posters on the wall. With a slight snort, she turned back to Sam. "Do you mind if I think about it?" she asked. He nodded his head, his smile slowly returning to his face. "Of course," he replied.
"It really is okay, though. Just so you know," she reiterated. She'd hate to think that Sam would be struck down with guilt. If his smile disappeared, she thought that the world might collapse in on itself. He only nodded, unsure of what to say. "Thank you, Sam," she sighed, and he couldn't stop the smile that crested across his face.
"You're welcome... Bear."
THIRTY MINUTES LATER . . .
It was nice having her own little nook for her things. She had a small table big enough for her laptop and a few picture frames. And she even had her own space on the wall for her Stevie Nicks poster. By the time everything was set up and put in their place, Ted had finally seemed to doze off to sleep, reclined in his chair and with his feet up.
It was Beard who woke him up, snapping his fingers on either side of his head. "Coach. You gotta stay up," he reminded him. Ted huffed out a sigh, shaking his head. "C'mon man, don't be a sleep cop." He slowly lifted his head, blinking against the bright lights. Click.
Bear stood to her feet, stretching her arms over her head. "Roy!" Ted suddenly shouted, seemingly more alert. "Hey, Roy!" The captain of their team stopped at the door, peering in with mild curiosity. Ted motioned him forward with a big smile. "Yeah?" he finally responded. "What do you want?"
Roy wasn't necessarily a big man. In all honesty, he was quite small and lean. Compared to the football players in America, he's a shrimp. But that didn't make him any less scary. He has this daunting aura about him that made Bear feel slightly uncomfortable. "It was real fun watching you out there today. You know, the boys really respond to you. It doesn't surprise me, though. You've had a heck of a career."
He seemed genuinely surprised by Ted's nice words. "Thank you," he replied. Bear felt herself slowly ease down in her seat, feeling somewhat more relaxed. It didn't last long, however. "Never thought it would end being coached by Ronald fucking McDonald."
Ted remained silent. Roy's eyes left her brother and landed on her. "How's your head?" he asked. Her eyes went wide, lips parting. "Um, fine," she replied. He then nodded his head before leaving the office. Three pairs of eyes remained on him until his body disappeared. Ted then turned to Beard with a slight tired expression. "You gonna let him call you that?"
"I don't think he was referring to me," Beard replied, tapping his fingers on the desk. Ted snorted, turning back to the open doorway. "He thinks he's mad now, wait till we win him over." Bear laughed at the thought. She could picture him, all red faced with steam coming out of his ears. A vein would pop somewhere, maybe his neck or maybe his forehead. She wasn't sure, she's never seen him excruciatingly angry yet. "He'll be furious," Beard emphasized.
Bear once again stood to her feet. She felt like she needed to talk a walk before her back locked up. She felt too old to only be twenty six years old. "Anybody got any tape?" Ted asked, looking between the two. The woman nodded her head, turning and pulling her tape out of her bag. "Not athletics tape," Ted chuckled, shaking his head at her.
"Don't knock it 'til you try it," she scolded her brother. "It helps a lot." He laughed, clearly amused with his younger sister. "I meant tape. So I can tape up my poster." Ted turned expectantly toward Coach Beard. His expectation was met when a roll of tape was sent flying toward him. He caught it at his chest, nodding his head in thanks at the bearded man. "Come help me set it up."
She sighed. She just wanted them to finish up what they were doing quickly so she could go to her new home. Her heart was calling for a soft bed. But she followed him anyway, approaching the bed she had been sitting on before and climbing up. "How are you feeling, big brother?" she asked, watching as he unrolled his handmade poster. He sighed. "Fine," he replied, not sparing her a glance.
Her head tilted as she looked up at the yellow paper. "Are you sure?" she pressed on. She didn't get a response, as her brother was now crowding a locker. "Hey, I think it's crooked—"
"What are you doing in there?"
Bear released a sharp gasp as Ted banged his head inside of the locker he had been crouched in. The brunette turned to spot the same woman from before. "Oh, shit," she cursed, eyes growing wide. "I'm sorry. Are you alright? I didn't mean to scare you that bad."
"Yeah, no, I'm fine. I'm fine," Ted replied, grasping at the back of his head. Bear slipped off of the bed and approached her brother. "Concussion twins," she joked, causing her brother to roll his eyes. "I was just, uh, making some adjustments to the locker room here," Ted explained, pointing at the poster he had just hung up.
"Nice, yeah," she replied. Her head tilted, much like Bear's had done before. "Though, I believe it's crooked." Ted joined the two women in staring at the sign. His eyes squinted. "Now here I am thinking it was the room that was all outta whack," he joked, "but you know what? I think you're right."
He chuckled to himself before looking back at the woman. "What you doing back here? Where's Jamie?" Ted asked. Bear also turned to look at the woman. She was much prettier up close. "Oh, he left his phone in his locker," she replied.
"Why didn't he come get it?" Ted asked.
"I knew it!" Bear blurted out. Curiously, the two turned toward her. "Knew what?" the other woman asked, her eyes soft and sparkly. Bear grimaced a bit before shrugging her shoulders. "He's a twat, right? A real asshole?"
She burst out laughing, surprised. "That's the first time I've heard an American say twat," she admitted. Her laugh was so contagious that Bear couldn't help but laugh along. She figured, in that moment, that maybe she had judged the woman too harshly before. "He can be a twat," she huffed, "but he can be sweet, as well. You just have to get to know him. But he's still getting waxed. He's surprisingly furry."
Bear felt like gagging at the imagery in her head now. Jamie Tartt, secretly bigfoot. "The hair was, like, growing back while she was doing it." Ted chuckled, squinting his eyes at the woman. "Come on, now." She continued to smile, humor sparkling in her eyes. "May I?" she asked, pointing at the locker. Ted nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah. Help yourself."
He flashed his eyes at Bear. She did the same, utterly confused by his meaning. He threw his hand up and out toward the poster. "I said it was crooked," she whispered harshly. He scoffed before deciding to approach the poster and reposition it. "It looks fine, Teddy," she groaned. Him and his perfectionism.
"Lower it down on that side," the other woman instructed politely. Ted turned toward them, surprised by the help. "Oh. Great," he replied before focusing back on the task at hand. The woman came to stand right next to Bear, offering her a smile. "I'm Keeley," she introduced herself.
"Keep going. Little bit," Keeley informed Ted. Bear smiled. "I'm Beatrice," she replied. Keeley smiled big. It had been a while since she had any girl friends. "Little bit more, Ted," Bear said, following Keeley's lead. He followed their instructions with no hesitation. Both girls exclaimed, "stop," in unison.
They turned to look at one another, amused. "Perfect," Keeley hummed. Bear nodded in agreement. Ted returned his feet to the ground, happy with the help and how it had gone. "Alright. How 'bout that? Nice teamwork." He lifted his hand for a high five. Bear slapped his hand, followed by Keeley. "Old-school," she chuckled.
"I'm Keeley, by the way."
"Yeah, hey. Ted Lasso," Ted replied. He looked at Bear, ready to introduce her, but she shook her head. "Already on first name basis," she informed him. He looked slightly shocked, but impressed. "Way to go, Bear."
"Bear?" Keeley asked, glancing toward the brunette. She sighed. "My nickname from childhood," she explained. "A nickname I've grown out of." Keeley nodded immediately in understanding. She looked to Ted, deciding now would be a good time to change the subject. "You know, you're trending hard on Twitter right now."
Bear's eyes widened slightly. She hadn't even thought about checking their social media. "How 'bout that," Ted hummed, oblivious. His sister grimaced, tucking her chin to hide the embarrassment written clear across her face. "Do you even tweet?" Keeley asked.
"Nah," Ted replied. "But I do beatbox alright." Bear wasn't fast enough. Ted was already beatboxing now, much like he does when driving to practices. Keeley looked stunned. "I never know how to react when a grown man beatboxes in front of me," she admitted.
"Well, I hope you never run into Biz Markie," Ted joked. Keeley clearly didn't understand, but she didn't seem to care. She continued to smile sweetly. "Alright. Well, if you get curious and you start searching around Twitter, I would avoid hashtag Richmond, or wanker, or dick," she advised. Ted nodded his head in appreciation. "I'll take your word for it."
Bear knew right then that she'd never let Ted download Twitter now. "Good, and," Keeley curtsied toward the two, "welcome to England." She flashed a wink toward Bear, the brunette smiling. Once she was gone, she turned back to Ted. He met her eyes, waiting silently for her to speak up. She wanted to say something. She really did. She wanted to tell him not to worry about what the public could be saying because he knew who he was. He knows that he'll do right by the club.
But as she looked up at him, her brain shorted. She couldn't think of a single thing to say. So, she didn't say anything. Instead she hugged him, tight. Ted paused, surprised by the show of affection, but quickly accepted it with open arms. "Thank you," she whispered. He scoffed. "What are you thankin' me for?"
"For believing in me," she explained. "It's my turn now, okay?" He rested his cheek against her head, squeezing her tight. "Okay," he sighed, smiling to himself. Anything is possible, as long as you have someone who believes in you.