Various people bugged me for years to watch Buffy: The Vampire Slayer (the TV show, not the movie). And I refused. Why would I watch a show with such a dumb name, one that was obviously about some girl all full of angst over some gorgeous vampire, season after season? Little did I know I had predicted the dumb Twilight books and movies with those thoughts.
I gave in when, living in Germany, a box arrived of taped episodes from a friend who was tired of my nonsense. So I watched – and learned Buffy: The Vampire Slayer was one of the smartest, most complex, creative shows ever on TV. At times, it really hard to watch, because it was the worst moments of high school and university, presented in demon-form… but it was cathartic. And SO fun.
No one was telling me I should watch Ted Lasso, but I just kept hearing how it was so brilliant. And I SO did not want to watch it. Because, for what little I knew, it was a series making fun of Americans, making fun of having a positive, upbeat outlook, of trying to be a good person, of trying to be nice. I expected a series where snarky, smart British people would continuously roll their eyes at the stupid overly-positive American football coach. And I just didn’t need it in my life.
Now, let’s be clear: I am a snarky and somewhat smart person and I have rolled my eyes at stupid overly positive American football coaches. And I’m darn good at British accents.
I’m so glad I didn’t read any reviews of the show. I’m so glad I stayed away from anything written about the show. And I’m so glad I accidentally subscribed to Apple+ for a month because I thought the Beatles documentary, Get Back, was on it (nope – it’s on Disney+). I thought, okay, what the hell, I’ll watch this damn show.
How good is this show? I watched season one of Ted Lasso in 24 hours. Stefan hates TV. He hates movies. He’s already watched half of season one – yes, I’m rewatching it. He watches an episode and then says, “Let’s watch another.” HE NEVER DOES THIS.
First off: you can watch all of Ted Lasso for $5. Yup, just $5. You can get Apple+ on whatever advice you use to watch Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, whatever. I use my Roku device. It’s the best $5 I have ever spent in my life. If you are thinking, “Oh, I’ll just wait for this to be on regular TV”, it will NEVER be on regular TV, because of it’s incredibly adult language and adult “moments” – there’s no nudity, but there are… moments.
If you haven’t seen it, and you are maybe sort of kind of thinking about it, please don’t read anymore. Please just pay the damn $5 and watch it. You don’t want to know anything more about it than you might already know. Trust me. Just one thing: you may need subtitles. Whew, those are some strong accents…
I knew I was going to write about this show. I just didn’t know when. But tonight, after a particular moment in Season Two, I had to write. And if you know me, I bet you know the moment.
I have always wanted to be buoyant. Effervescent. With no apologies. And around certain people, I could be: as a child, I could be that way around my paternal grandmother, who never said, “Oh, stop being so dramatic.” Who never mocked me and called me “motormouth.” Who never rolled her eyes at me. Every time other family members, or friend, or teacher, made those little mocking comments, I’d get a little more withdrawn. And by the time I was at university, I had the moniker of being angry and quiet by a lot of folks. I was good with it. It beat being made fun of.
I held back being me for so many years. And if you knew me in high school or at Western or in New England or Austin and you don’t think of me that way, you don’t think of me as withdrawn or cautious, congratulations: you were so wonderful to me and made me feel comfortable and I decided to let me guard down. Or you were an ass who made me comfortable just to mock me later – there were those, certainly – and you suck eggs for that. But most everyone else, especially everyone in California, saw a very scared mess who let every humiliation chip away at her, who second-guessed everything she said or did, and who often didn’t say what she wanted to say or do what she wanted to do, for fear of judgment or rejection.
Austin, Texas healed me from hurts that I never thought I’d overcome. And Germany, and my wonderful friends at the United Nations, and my polar opposite that I married: you cut me loose. And I will always love ya’ll for it. For about a decade, I was me, no apologies. I was Ted Lasso. It was terrific.
Then I moved to Oregon. I was still that person. I was Ted Lasso. Sincerely, from the bottom of my heart.
Oregon – the entire state, as well as, specifically, Forest Grove and Portland – worked hard to kill Ted Lasso. They have driven me right back under that dark cloud of reservation since moving here in 2009.
I’m tired of the smug comments about my accent. I’m tired of watching people bristle when I try to participate in an event or meeting. I’m tired of saying, “Good morning” and watching people – NEIGHBORS – drop their eyes as they pass, or cross the street when they see me coming. I’m tired of saying “Thank you!” and watching people smirk or frown. I’m tired of moments like this. I’m tired of two-faced Oregon friends who pretend to care and behind your back are delighting in all that they think is wrong with you. I’m tired of being dismissed again and again from consideration for a job or inclusion simply because I’m not a Pacific Northwesterner. I’m tired of being Carol fucking Milford in Gopher Prairie, Minnesota.
I was more welcomed in Kabul.
Combined with the almost 63 million people that voted for a misogynist racist, fascist and wannabe dictator – I was just done. Fuck all ya’ll. I decided I would be the person who walked down the street not making eye contact, not saying hello, and crossing the street when I saw someone coming – which I did long before COVID. When all the anti-vaccination bullshit happened, I wasn’t surprised – have you not been listening to people for the past damn decade? When people were surprised at the return of book bans, of white people pulling guns on peaceful protestors, of the insurrection at the capital, of a governor creating his own militia, I was the one who smirked. I was the one rolling my eyes.
It was so much easier not trying to be nice, and letting loose anger when I felt it. It really was. That part, I enjoyed very much. I even felt good being smug. But it was sad not believing that you should just be you and screw what anyone thinks. Not believing that, in fact, people really are, at their core, good at heart. Not believing.
And now I’m watching Ted Lasso. It’s the best-written, most thoughtful, hilarious thing I have seen since Sherlock. I put it in the top five best things on TV ever. When I’ve teared up while watching, until tonight, it’s been from joy, or from feeling touched by a beautiful moment.
But tonight, I cried. Very hard. Noises were made. And I have to take a break for a few days before I continue Season 2. And, again, if you know me, and you’ve seen the show, you know why. But maybe now, if you’ve seen it, you also know why I was so bouncy in my late 30s and early 40s. I knew that I knew Ted Lasso, but I couldn’t figure out why I knew him so well. Now I know.
A show about goodness, kindness and hope. About being nice. Things I’d almost given up on.
Also, a show that is a complete refutation of toxic masculinity. Wow, THAT was so needed now.
Still not sure if I’m going to start saying “Good morning” again though.
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